The sun pierced through the gap in between the curtains, burning my face. I mumbled profanities at nature for disturbing my hibernation. Okay, we are in late March, but I still regard it as a breezy month reserved for bed activities such as scrolling my phone, watching Netflix on my laptop and napping.
My bladder forced me to get out of bed. I plodded to the bathroom, eyes half-closed.
Sitting on the toilet seat, my chin slipped out of my hand, dipping my head and jolting me awake. Shoo, that was close. I could’ve dipped to my side while sleeping and cracked my head on the tiles.
I rubbed my hands together as the water rinsed the foam. There was no point in washing my face because I was going back to bed. Before heading back, I opened the fridge and took out the leftover fudge from last night. I had stuffed myself with so much dessert after eating a pizza that I couldn’t finish everything.
After eating two slices, I walked to the bedroom. My head snapped at the mirror in the corridor. Woah. My baggy pyjama made me look massive.
I turned to my profile and checked out my butt, pressing my pyjama against it. Oh, my God. It’s not the pyjama. I turned to the other side, hoping that butt cheek was disproportionate to the other one. Oh, no. The other one was the same size.
I raised the pyjama above my abdomen, grabbed a flab and shook it. My abdomen trembled. What the hell? When did this happen?
I felt that my body had completely betrayed me. It was six months ago that I looked fairly decent. How could my skin expand like this? It’s so unfair.
I looked at my bedroom and then the fudge on the table. Either option seemed appealing. I looked in the mirror and reminded myself that both of those caused me to look like the Michelin Man.
Spring was a few weeks away, and I wanted to spend most of it by the lake before jetting off to Dubai for the summer. Of course, I had to look fabulous in the bikinis that I bought last year. Thinking about trying them on gave me anxiety. I was certain that they wouldn’t fit.
My cheeks puffed and then deflated as I blew out a long breath. Worse than being fat was feeling that I was heavy. I hated that feeling. It served as a constant reminder that I was lazy, unattractive and depressed. Let’s face it: being fat screams negative stereotypes.
How am I supposed to get a husband when I’m fat? Mom is gonna kill me when she sees me. For the last few years, she harassed me about starting a family. If she sees my weight gain, I’m certain that she’ll convince Dad to leave me out of the will. I can’t let that happen. I need money to travel the world, buy designer clothing and drive a Brabus.
After searching for a gym online, I called immediately to ask if they would accept me as a member. The sales lady chuckled and said, “Of course, why wouldn’t we?”
I panicked so much that I didn’t realise how absurd my question was.
Standing in front of my open cupboard, I reached for the leggings and then changed my mind. I couldn’t wear them yet. A baggy tracksuit was a safer option. The last thing I needed was sarcastic remarks at the gym from women. I know how those bitches operate. They love to uplift themselves while putting others down.
My heartbeat gained momentum as I approached the gym parking. I thought about the reactions of members towards me. What if somebody comes up to me and asks why I’m so fat? Oh, God. Surely nobody will be that brazen?
No, Jacqueline, just relax. Nobody is going to harass you. They have probably put on weight, too. I’ve got nothing to worry about.
I walked into the gym and saw one flawless body after another. Oh, God. How can they look so perfect? It’s like they spent the whole winter here.
Comparing my routine for the last few months to theirs made me more miserable. I felt that I had wasted precious time. Okay, just relax, Jacqueline. What’s done is done. You can turn over a new page today by working towards your dream body.
I went to the cycling studio and peeked inside. It was empty. Great. My face scrunched up as I stretched. Oh, God. Even that was painful. I could only imagine what exercising would feel like.
I turned the knob on the bicycle to the easiest speed and pedalled.
Ten minutes later, I felt my energy waning. Wow. I was surprised by how badly out of shape I was. Breathing out of my mouth parched it and made me desire a water bottle. Damn it. Why didn’t I bring one?
I went to the reception and bought a bottle, then sat in the lounge and sipped it. I couldn’t remember the last time I was that thirsty. It was probably last summer, which felt like ages ago.
A few women walked past me on the way to the locker room. Their flat stomachs, tight butts and curvy legs made me envious of them. I wanted to look like that. I deserved to look like that.
The way those women looked motivated me to get back onto the bike.
I took off my top and pedalled. Luckily, I wore a baggy shirt so nobody could see my flabs. As soon as I felt my calves aching, I closed my eyes and imagined lying on a beach in a bikini, looking fabulous. That motivated me to push through the pain and continue cycling.
I imagined heads turning as I strolled along the beach, guys catcalling and women lowering their sunglasses to make sure that they had witnessed a goddess. Call me Cleopatra.
Sweat dripped on the floor as I hung my head while pedalling. I panted, regretting not buying another bottle to drink while on the bike. Too late. Getting off the bike was not an option.
The momentum of my pedalling waned. My calves contracted, aching severely. I stopped.
I couldn’t continue. The excruciating pain in my calves prompted me to get off the bike and sit on the floor. I massaged my calves and looked up, eyes closed as I thanked everything holy for enabling me to end the pain.
Looking at the bike, I considered getting back on it. I hated the pain that it inflicted on my body, but I knew it drastically improved my stamina and burnt calories.
“I hate you. You’re the best and worst thing to happen to me. I’d love to go for another spin, but my body needs to rest. This is the first day, so I can’t let you completely ruin me so that I can’t come back. I’ll see you tomorrow. You and I will go at it again. Bring your A game, ’cause you best believe that I’ll be stronger,” I said to the bike, glaring at it.
I grabbed the bike bar and pulled myself up. My feet, calves and bum ached. I wanted to get to bed immediately and sleep until the following morning.
My face scrunched up as I walked slowly, carefully stepping with each foot to minimise the pain.
I bought another water bottle and sat on a couch, sipping it. Water had never tasted better. I finished the bottle quickly and bought another one for the road.
In the car, pressing the pedals aggravated the pain in my legs. Although I was in agony, it felt good because I was proud of myself for taking action. I knew that my muscles would get used to the exercises after a few more sessions.
On the way home, I drove past my favourite pasta place. Imagining the meatballs and the tomato sauce slithering over my tongue made my mouth water.
I considered pulling over and ordering a big portion to quieten my rumbling stomach. Although it would taste delicious, I knew it would defeat the purpose of training.
I stopped at a supermarket and picked up a Greek salad and some fruit.
At home, the water sprayed onto my face and trickled down my body as I raked my fingers through my hair. Strangely, I felt horny. Perhaps it was the steam rising from the tiles and the soothing stream of water massaging my body.
I thought about a tall, dark-haired, muscular man standing behind me, rubbing my arms and pressing his forehead against the back of my head.
Not being able to fight the urge, I turned to him. He pressed his lips against mine, and I slid my tongue into his mouth. He put his hands on my waist and pulled me in. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and our tongues twirled around each other.
Pressing my breasts against his chiselled chest made me hornier, and his dick pressed against my groin. I wanted him inside of me so badly.
I rubbed his back, feeling his muscles and then lowered my hands to his ass, squeezing it. Oh, God. It was rock-hard, just like the rest of his body.
He grabbed my wrists, parting my arms as he pinned me against the wall. His nose rubbed mine, and his lips almost brushed mine. But he refrained from kissing me. His taunting turned me on even more. He could give me what I wanted at any moment, but he teased me to let me know that he was in charge. I loved that.
His nose pressed against my chin, raising it as he moved his head back. I closed my eyes as the water cascaded off my face, and he nibbled my neck. I clutched the back of his hair and then raked my fingers through it.
His lips trailed down my chest, and he rubbed my pussy while licking my nipple. My lips parted as I exhaled lust that had burnt my chest. That did little to extinguish the fiery ball that expanded inside of me.
He sank to his knees and raised my right leg, holding it up as he pressed his lips against my pussy. I placed both hands on the top of his head and moaned as he swiped his tongue in every direction. Oh, God. He was talented with his tongue. It felt like Da Vinci’s brush being slapped over a canvas as he drew his masterpiece.
I raised my chin and growled as my forehead wrinkled. He knew where to hit the spot. I breathed deeply, my chest expanding broadly. He continued to lick me, parching my mouth as I lost my breath.
His licking was magnificent. It was evident that he had a lot of practice, and I was glad that he used his dexterity on me. I didn’t want him to stop, but I also wanted him inside of me.
He placed his hands on my hips and turned me. I faced my back to him, my arms pressing the walls above my head. He parted my buttcheeks and licked my pussy. I pressed my cheek against a tile and moaned. Oh, God. Who taught him to use his tongue like that?
I bowed my head, my forehead pressing against a tile. Oh, just stick it inside of my already, would you?
If he used his tongue so skillfully, I could only imagine how good his technique was with his dick. I really hoped that he wouldn’t disappoint me.
What if he used his dick better than his tongue? Oh, God. I’m gonna pass out. He’s going to coax so many orgasms out of me that I won’t have any energy to stand. I won’t be surprised if I lose consciousness. But it would be worth it as long as I recall the way he made me feel.
He bit my neck and told me that he was going to give me the ride of a lifetime. I believed him.
I felt his tip enter me, and I closed my eyes, anticipating mind-blowing orgasms.
The showerhead sputtered water, snapping me out of reverie.
Great. Just great. As I was about to have the best fantasy sex ever, the water stopped flowing and then splattered onto my face. Why is fantasy always better than reality?
Ugh, who was I kidding? That man wouldn’t want me the way I look now. But he will be interested in me when I improve my figure. Then, he won’t be able to keep his hands off me, and I’ll enjoy earth-shattering sex.
I patted myself with a towel and wrapped a small one over my head and a big one over my body. I looked in the fridge and saw pasta leftovers. My stomach grumbled as I thought about warming it up in the microwave. I wanted to eat it so badly, but thinking about my dream guy made me change my mind.
Every time I resist eating food with carbs and train, I move a step closer to being with the fantasy guy.
I sighed, thinking about the day that he would finally arrive.
That’s it, Jacqueline. Use that as motivation every time that you want to get off the bike or indulge in dessert and food that won’t help you lose weight.
Thinking about being with him made me eager to train. I thought about going back to the gym, but I didn’t want to run my body down. Overtraining can result in severe exhaustion and injury.
For the first time in my life, I was eager to train so I could see how I would look after losing weight.
I went to bed early. My plan was to wake up at 5 am and be at the gym half an hour later. I couldn’t recall the last time I had woken up that early.
The alarm clock buzzed, jolting me awake. I peered at it, hoping it was a nightmare that would end before I woke up at my regular time. But it wouldn’t stop. I pressed snooze.
It buzzed again. Oh, my God. That was like literally two seconds ago. Doesn’t the snooze setting last at least ten minutes?
My mouth stretched open, and I reached deep into my lungs to growl out the agony of sleep deprivation. I wanted to flip over and carry on sleeping. That would’ve provided me with satisfaction that money couldn’t buy.
But I knew if I didn’t get up, I’d look for an excuse later in the day not to go to the gym. It was easy to get distracted and prioritise trivial matters.
“Oh, God. Can somebody please shoot me right now?” I asked, leaning forward while sitting on the edge of the bed.
I looked at the pillow and imagined resting my head on it and waking up several hours later, feeling a burst of energy. Instead, I felt like I had dug ditches the entire night. And my day would only get worse once I stepped into the gym.
I loved the way I felt after a workout, but the most gruelling part was doing the exercises. Urgh. I wanted to swear at myself for self-imposing such an unpleasant goal. I didn’t know what I was thinking.
In the mirror, I saw a languished person aching to return to bed. I felt sorry for her, but I also hated her for what she had done to me. The stupid bitch. Why couldn’t she just accept that she was meant to have an ice-cream tube in her hands, not dumbbells?
I respected her for having bold dreams and looking after her body. It was an admirable goal.
“Maybe you’re not so bad after all,” I said, looking in the mirror.
A burst of energy filled my body, making me straighten my back and open my eyes wider. I smiled, then laughed at myself for being a couch potato stuffed with carbohydrates.
Calling myself that reminded me that I had to cancel my streaming subscriptions. I used to binge-watch several seasons while stuffing myself with chips and chocolate.
I couldn’t allow myself that temptation. No more TV. No more snacks. And definitely no more lying on the couch—that sets the laziness in motion. I chuckled, thinking about the oxymoron of laziness and motion.
While slipping into a baggy tracksuit, I wondered about how great it would feel to wear leggings. I thought about guys checking out my curvy ass, muscular legs and flat stomach. I knew that having those physical traits would make me a knockout.
In the car, I looked in the rearview mirror and smiled. I was proud of myself for getting up, getting dressed, washing my face and deciding to train. Acknowledging every positive action boosted my confidence and encouraged me to continue with those actions.
The guy at the front desk smiled at me. I could’ve sworn that he checked me out. That would happen more often as I shed weight and built muscle.
Walking towards the studio, I thought about the pain that I would endure for the next half an hour. Oh, God. Why?
Today is a new day, Jacqueline. Half an hour was for rookies. You need to pump up those numbers. You have to speed up this process. Spring is just around the corner, and you’ve got a lot of work to do, girl.
I got on the bike and turned the knob to a higher setting than yesterday. As I started pedalling, the agony in my legs dwindled. I thought it would get worse, but I felt better. That encouraged me to keep going.
Twenty minutes later, I was drenched in sweat, but I had more energy than yesterday. The first day is always the hardest.
I carried on spinning. Thinking about all the perks I’d enjoy by persevering boosted my energy.
Several minutes later, a guy with spiky hair and a muscular body walked into the studio. He looked at me and smiled.
“Hi, how are you?” he asked.
I smiled. “Good and you?”
“Awesome. Looks like you’re giving it your all,” he said, glancing at the sweat on my forehead.
“I’m trying.”
“I actually saw you here yesterday for the first time. Haven’t seen you before.”
“Yesterday was my first day.”
“Oh, wow. And you’re back. Most people don’t come back after their first day.”
“I seriously considered not coming, but I would’ve regretted it.”
He smiled and nodded. “You should be proud of yourself. Great attitude.”
I felt my cheeks flush. Nobody gave me such a compliment. I guess I can’t blame anyone for being a sloth.
“Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”
“Sorry. I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Cory.”
“Jacqueline. Nice to meet you.”
“Awesome to meet you. I love meeting like-minded people.”
“I can see you work out,” I said, commenting as I stared at his biceps.
“Ya, well, been training for about fifteen years. I’m actually a personal trainer here.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I work with people who are serious about reaching their goals. It’s one thing to work out by yourself. There’s no doubt you’ll see results if you remain disciplined, but if you want the best results immediately, you have to work with a professional. You need someone to show you the exercises for your desired results, someone to tailor a personal diet and hold you accountable. When you train by yourself, it’s easy to slack. But when you answer to someone and you put your money where your mouth is, it’s a completely different ball game.”
Everything Cory said made sense. He was right about needing a trainer to achieve my desired results.
He added before giving me his card, “If you’re serious, give me a call.”
I peeked at his butt as he walked out of the studio. God, it looked so hard you could bounce a quarter off it. I must admit that I would love to squeeze it.
At home, while eating a salad, I considered Cory’s offer. He seemed like a good trainer. He definitely spoke like he knew what he was talking about. And his physique confirmed it.
I’ve got nothing to lose. I can hire him for one session, and I don’t have to train with him again if he doesn’t show me that he can help me attain my goals.
It’ll also be nice to engage with a handsome, muscular man. I can’t remember the last time that happened. Maybe he’ll spank my bum if I don’t train hard. That’s not such a bad thing.
Ugh, listen to me. I’m fantasising about a man who wants to keep our relationship strictly professional. Then again, personal trainers are notorious for sleeping with their clients.
I messaged him, ‘Can we do a session tomorrow?’
A few minutes later, he replied, ‘I’ve got 10 am open or 2 pm.’
I arrived at the gym ten minutes before ten o’clock. Nothing irritated me more than tardiness. I wasn’t perfect, but I also wasn’t a latecomer. I expected everyone else to respect my time. Besides, consistent late coming reveals to me a person’s immaturity and poor time management skills. That’s a deal breaker for me.
I saw Cory on the other side of the gym, and he gestured that he would come over after finishing with a client. Even though he was in close proximity, I still expected him to engage me at the agreed time.
I watched the clock strike ten. A few seconds later, Cory walked over to me and said, “Morning. You’re ready?”
He stood beside me as I warmed up on the treadmill, speedwalking and arm swinging. Cory said warm-up exercises were the most important part of the training to avoid injury and enable the muscles to function optimally.
After warming up, I squatted. As I crouched, the agony in my legs made me feel like they were filled with bricks. I did three sets and sat down. Cory chuckled, recognising that I hadn’t ever done squats.
“Are we done for today?” I asked.
He laughed. “No, we’re just getting started.
I pushed myself off the bench, trying to get up, and my face scrunched up as I trudged to the next machine. My stiff legs made me consider reducing the session to half an hour. But I didn’t want to irk Cory. He seemed serious about helping me, so I didn’t want to disappoint him.
After the fourth exercise, sweat had completely covered my face and back. I felt pure agony, and every fibre of me wanted to quit. The joy of relinquishing pain would have overshadowed any regret that I may feel.
Cory was right. I would’ve quit after squats had I trained by myself. But with him, I kept persevering, more to please him than myself. He was impressed by my discipline, and I wanted him to think highly of me.
If he saw that I tried my best, I knew that he would exert maximum effort to ensure that I obtained my goals.
A few minutes later, I was on my hands and knees, sweat dripping off my face onto the mat.
“Sorry,” I said, for not wiping myself.
“Don’t worry about it.” Cory handed me a towel and water.
I drank half the bottle, then breathed deeply as I sat on my heels.
“You’re doing great. I’m really impressed with how you’ve trained today. Tomorrow, you’ll do even better.”
“If I’m alive.”
He smiled and said, “You’ll be fine. You’ve got the fighting spirit, and I know you’ll be here tomorrow.”
I didn’t want to dampen the mood with a negative comment, but there was no way in hell that I would return to the gym.
I couldn’t remember how I got home. The drive was a complete blur. The only thing I remember was thinking about getting home so I could go straight to bed. I didn’t care about showering.
In my lounge, I dropped my bag on the floor and exhaled an exasperated breath. What was I thinking, letting Cory train me like that? That was torture, not training. Never again.
In my bedroom, I collapsed on the bed, my head slamming onto the pillow. I closed my eyes.
When I opened my eyes, it was almost six pm. I slept for about seven hours, and I felt that it wasn’t enough.
My phone rang. I didn’t want to speak to anyone, so I ignored it. It stopped ringing. Thank God. I closed my eyes.
My eyes shot open as the phone rang again. Had it been within arm’s reach, I would’ve switched it off. The longer it rang, the more annoyed I became.
The desire to throw my phone against the wall made me get out of bed and plod to it. I snatched the phone off the dining table and saw that it was Cory. My first thought was to decline the call. But then I thought that it was a great opportunity to give him a piece of my mind.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hey, warrior. How are you?”
He caught me off guard by calling me a warrior. Nobody had ever called me that.
“Fine.”
“Hope you’re getting rest. You need to recover for tomorrow’s session.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that. I’m exhausted.”
“You started climbing a mountain today. The bottom part is always the hardest, but you took great strides to reach the summit. Don’t tumble back down. Go to the top and then run down. That’ll feel much better.”
Rejecting his offer would’ve been so much easier if he didn’t care about helping me reach my goals. But he did, maybe even more than me. I felt grateful to him for not giving up on me when I wanted to throw in the towel.
It was evident to me that Cory was a great trainer, and I would benefit tremendously from his coaching.
“Fine. You win. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“That’s the spirit. Get some rest, and we’ll pick up from where we left off.”
I sighed, wishing that Cory would’ve been a jerk. But he wasn’t. He was patient, understanding and supportive. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a person like that? But having him as a lover would be even better.
I sat on the couch, spread my legs and rubbed my pussy while thinking about Cory banging me from behind. I was certain that he had a big dick and stamina to last an hour.
He seemed like the type to spank a woman’s ass and then pound her even harder. I drilled my pussy faster just thinking about his aggression.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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