Black Cat Ch. 04

Madtown Fitness is the best gym in the city for the price. The gym offers machines for any fitness level; from the basic cardio machines to EliteFTS Collegiate squat racks. Their plate-loaded equipment is the best in the city. Dumbbells from five to two hundred pounds, Olympic lifting platforms equipped with Nebula half racks, with Pendlay Kilogram bumper plates. Several midwestern bodybuilders trained to championships there. They never increased the price due to the increased prestige, though. I signed up for a membership years ago, but with my work schedule and fulfilling a bitch's every whim I rarely was able to workout. That changed when I took my first step into the gym as a new man.

A new woman was working the front desk. Her name tag said, "Janice". She was an average height blond with perky breasts and looked like the kind of girl that could play a couple sets of tennis and then party all night. Her blue polo and shorts couldn't hide her athletic figure.

"Hi, Janice," I said as I handed her my membership card. She had a genuine smile as she took my card and put it against a NFC scanner. "I think I'm behind on my membership dues. Could you please check on that?"

She scanned the display on her desk and shook her head. "Mr. Banderole..." She puts the card into something under her desk. I hear a sickening sound of plastic being shredded. "Please wait here." She then turns around and walks through a door with a sign above it that said, "THE BOSS".

'Oh, great,' I thought. 'Now I've got to find a gym that has all the equipment I need.' After thirty seconds the most statuesque dark skinned beauty I've ever seen emerged from the doorway. She was tall, with short, shoulder length hair and piercing black eyes. She wore tight yoga leggings with a beige floral pattern and a Madtown polo that did nothing to hide her ample breasts.

I said to her, "What's going on? I'm here to pay my bill and work out."

"Mr. Banderole," she said with an air of authority. "Your sister called and settled your outstanding bill, ordered a VIP upgrade and paid for a year upfront." She reached into a drawer and pulled out a black membership card and handed it to me. "Here's your new card. Please let Janice know if there is anything she can do for you." She then turned and went back to her office without waiting for my reply.

"My sister paid the bill?" I rhetorically asked and examined the new card. On one side it had the gym's red logo and my name and member since date embossed in gold. On the back was the NFC chip and an illustration of a juiced bodybuilder in various poses.

"Yes, sir. She was very nice on the phone and said that if you asked any questions I was to say that the cat got my tongue."

I rolled my eyes. Of course Brenna did, that little minx. "Can you at least tell me what the VIP membership is?"

"As you know we are open 24/7. The VIP package gives you six hours a month of personal trainer time and a running tab at the cafe as long as the bill is settled every month by the first. You can have a massage with our on-sight masseuse or masseur twice a week and there's a twenty percent discount on anything in the pro shop. The card will let you into a private locker room with its own bathroom, shower, hot tub, sauna and complementary towels. Would you like to see that now?"

I replied, "Sure. Lead the way." As Janice led me down a side hallway I asked, "By the way, who was that and exactly how expensive is this?"

"That was Keena, the new owner. She's our main yoga instructor and I'm sorry. I'm afraid that a..."

"Yeah, I know. Cat's got your tongue. Fine."

"Your sister also said to tell you that curiosity killed the cat." Janice twisted around and smiled at my groan. When we reached an unassuming doorway she asked for my card. I handed it to her and she inserted it into a card lock similar to the ones you see at hotels. There was a buzz then a click as she opened the door. I followed her into an area bigger than my kitchen and living room combined. True to the description the carpeted room held a double wide locker with a bench in front of it, restroom facilities, shower and hot tub big enough for four people. A sauna was tucked into a corner. I tossed my bag onto the bench and stripped off my shirt.

"Nice. When did Keena put this in?" I said as I turned to Janice.

Her cheeks blushed as she checked out my chest and abs. I felt...admiration? Hmm, that was interesting. "She remodeled a storage room when a prima donna of a bodybuilder demanded it. He burnt out a few months later. I guess he wasn't as hot as he thought he was. By the way, the intercom by the door is wired to the front desk." She extended the card to me.

I make sure to slide my hand over hers before taking it. "Thanks. I'll let you know if I need anything."

She smiled as her pupils dilated. "Ok. You know where I'll be," she said as she left, closing the door behind her.

I hastily shucked the jeans, socks and shoes I wore. None of my underwear fit anymore so I went commando. I donned my basketball shorts, a thin Miskatonic U shirt, socks and shoes that were thankfully bigger than my usual size. When I was a second from opening the door I gasped as a surge of emotions hit me. I could feel the power filling my muscles. I checked the replies to my thread; the number had tripled. When I checked my profile I found I gained over a hundred followers.

I thumbed the intercom. "Janice, come to my room." I opened the door and shucked the shirt, lowered my shorts waistband below my hips, hiked up the legs and flexed every muscle in preparation.

I hear buzz then "Sure. Be right there".

I handed her my phone when she knocked on the door frame. "Take a vid while I pose."

"O-ok," she said as she took the phone. She lifted to her eye level.

"No. Lower the phone and shoot slightly up." She lowered the phone to her chest level, thumbed the record button and nodded. I keep my head up and lower my eyes to the phone's camera lens. "Thanks for the comments," I started. "Some of you think the pics are photoshopped." I growl into a bursting most muscular pose, "Does this look photoshopped assholes?!" I growl deeply and move into a cobra-hood-like front lat spread, held it for ten seconds, then did a double-bi making sure to flex my pecs and abs and bare my teeth. "Keep watching boys. I'm gonna fucking explode today!" I hold the pose for five seconds then tell Janice to stop recording. I hold out my hand for the phone as I drink in the vibe coming off her.

Instead of handing the phone to me she just stares at me with her mouth open. She snaps out of her trance when I take the phone. "Did...did you get bigger in less than five minutes? What are you doing?"

As I trim the video I reply, "Just a little experiment I'm running. You will be required to take more pictures and video throughout the day." After I posted the video to the thread and my album I looked up and gave her a dominating stare. "Understood?"

I don't wait for a reply and push past her. "There's a shirt required rule, sir."

"Not for me. Close the door on your way out."

I worked my way to the cafe. The trim guy manning the cafe bar tried to strike up a conversation when asked for a couple of bottles of water. He was about five and half feet tall with medium length blond hair. Before I could say thanks he started telling me his life story, beginning at birth in Haddonfield, Illinois. I was about to cut him off when I felt a tingle of attraction from him. By the time he started telling me about his high school graduation I cracked open the bottle of water and remembered I'm shirtless. I started bouncing my pecs throughout his summer off when he hitchhiked to Ventura to be a beach surfer bum for a year. I switched to pumping my biceps (alternating sides, of course) while he placed in a surfing meet. When he applied to UW, caught a plane back to the midwest, joined the university swim team and started working for the gym I started my abs. All throughout the ten minutes of life story (yes, ten minutes) I felt his attraction steadily grow.

"Wow, that's quite a story", I lied. "Put the water on my tab."

"We don't have a cafe tab..." he started. I raised the VIP card and he shifted gears exceptionally well, "...except for you. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yes, tell the masseuse I will need a massage this evening," I said as I turned to leave the cafe.

"I will," he called after me. "By the way, I'm Steve!"

I grumbled at the wasted time as I exited the cafe and started to cross the lobby to the gym floor. I was about half way through the lobby when I heard, "Mr. Banderole!"

I turned toward the voice and saw Keena purposefully walking towards me. Janice struggled to keep up behind her. Her expression could make a brick wall shake in trepidation. "Call me Br..."

"MISTER BANDEROLE," she interrupted. Her charge towards me stops a foot and a half from my chest. Janice clutched something to her breasts and had a worried expression, shoulders hunched. "There is a shirt required rule in this gym for a reason. You will wear a shirt to protect the members, yourself and the equipment. If you don't like that you're free to leave immediately. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

"Yes, Keena", I said while I locked eyes with her. She was not going to intimidate me.

"That's Ms. Panthera to you!" She also locked her fierily eyes to mine.

"Yes, Keena," I said with more emphasis on her first name.

The staring contest went on for a few more seconds, only to be broken by Janice. "I have a shirt for you, Bruce." Keena and I both snapped our eyes onto Janice at the same time. She slightly shrunk under our gazes. "It's a leftover from last year's bodybuilding completion. I hope you like it," she continued meekly.

I take the shirt and put it on. To call it a shirt is being generous. It was a huge wife-beater type bodybuilder shirt with the gym logo on the front, light gray and very thin. Even if it was my size instead of a couple sizes too big for me, it would have shown more than it covered. Keena crossed her arms over her breasts. I pulled both shoulders back, raised both eyebrows and said to her, "Better?"

Even though her expression said 'not really' she gave a small grunt, turned, stormed into her office and slammed the door.

I smirked and turned to Janice. "Thanks for the shirt." She smiles and I flex my delts. The tingle of her emotions was delicious. "Yeah, this'll be perfect. Remember, you are my photographer today."

"Yes, sir". The 'sir' was dripping with possibilities. The look in her eyes said pretty much everything.

We heard "JANICE!" from the office.

"Got to go," she said as she turned and jogged back to the front desk. "Enjoy your workout!"

After I admired Janice's ass I FINALLY got to start the reason I went to the gym in the first place. The first order of business is to strengthen my heart. I couldn't keep fainting like I almost did this morning. After stretching out I started on the treadmill at a fast walking pace, steadily increasing my speed until my watch said my heart rate reached 170 beats per minute. At that point I was running eight miles an hour. I infused a bit of power into my heart. The effect was almost immediate; my heart rate dropped to 100 bpm, but I didn't feel lightheaded. I increased the treadmill's speed to nine mph and let my mind's eye wander through my body. I flowed power to any spot that seemed to need help; my lungs could be more efficient, arteries and veins more elastic, and the liver could be cleared of doughnut grease. Soon I felt like I could increase the treadmill's speed again. I bumped the speed up to twelve mph. Shortly after that I became sweat covered, but my heart rate and respiration implied that I was just walking. I doubled that speed and kept going for two hours. When that time was up I stopped the treadmill, drained the two water bottles, wiped down the machine and relinquished it to the next user. I flagged down a trainer, showed him my card and asked for another couple bottles of water. He jogged to the cafe. While I waited I lifted the shirt and looked at myself in the wall mirror. Just as I had hoped, the cardio workout had consumed a lot of body fat. If the body fat percentage pics on MGF were correct, it looked like my body fat percentage was down to single digit, probably around six percent.

The trainer returned with the water and a towel. I thanked him and wiped my face with the towel. "I suppose the free weights are pretty busy today," I queried.

"They usually are, but it's such a nice sunny Saturday most of the guys are at the beach," he replied.

"Hmm...that's cool. Do you have time to help me develop a workout?"

He scanned me from toe to head and gave me a puzzled look, "You look like you know what you're doing. Are you sure you need my help?"

I was about to reply when I saw Janice walk past me. "I'll take it from here Jerry."

"Are you sure Jan? I can help..."

She gave her underling a stern look, "Yes, I'll work with him. You need to help Mrs. Yuscenchortstin out of the hot tub again. Scram." Jerry's face took on a look of resignation. He turned and slowly walked to the back of the building. Janice spun to face me, "Ok," she lifted a clipboard, "what are your fitness goals today?"

"I want to get as big as humanly possible."

"Hmmm," she flipped through the papers on the clipboard and muttered, "Yeah, you and every other jagoff meat head."

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing. Ok," she found what she was looking for and sorted that page to the top of the pile. "Looks like you already did cardio. Did you walk, jog or run."

"I ran."

"Good," she said as she checked a box on the paper. "For how long and how fast."

"About two hours. Max speed twenty-four mile per hour."

Her pencil stopped moving and her eyes met mine. A couple of seconds went by before she said "You're kidding. Usain Bolt does a hundred yard dash at that speed...and you did two HOURS? Hold this." She shoves the clipboard in my hand and takes my pulse in the other one.

"Well, yeah..." I started.

"Shhh!" Thirty seconds go by. She did the math in her head and said, "Are you sure you did that?"

"Since I'm covered in sweat and the veins in my legs are popping like firecrackers, Yeah, I did."

"She grabbed the clipboard back and gave me an unbelieving look. "Fine. We'll just get you started with bench presses and see how far you get."

We went to the free weights room. The bottom half of all the walls were mirrored. The upper half had huge black and white photos of an obviously juiced bodybuilder in various poses. It was obvious the photos were expertly photoshopped, especially his crotch. "Who's that?" I asked Janice.

"THAT is the gym's head bodybuilder, fucking Zapp Brannigan. Stay away from him. He's a big jerk and an egomaniac."

I lied when I said "I'll try," as I settled on the first available bench as she loaded up the bar with a pair of 45 plates. I grabbed the bar and she said, "Is that how you're going to hold the bar?" Without waiting for a reply she showed me the correct grip and posture. I then started pressing the bar. When I got to twenty reps she stopped me and added another set of 45s. I just easily pressed that weight to another twenty reps. With an unimpressed look on her face she added two 45s to each side and stood above my head in case I needed to be spotted. I looked up at her over her breasts and licked the sweat off my upper lip. I see her nipple harden as I drink deeply from her emotions. With a determined look on my face I grabbed the bar, grunted and lifted the bar off the rack. I almost lost my grip before I packed power into my arms and chest. I struggled through the first three reps until my muscles responded, then the bar became lighter and lighter until I was effortlessly benching the weight. I racked the weight at the fifteenth rep.

"More weight!" I growled.

"Bruce, I..."

"Dammit! FILL THE BAR!"

For a moment Janice looked started by my outburst, then she left to find a couple of weightlifters to help her load the bar. I mentally imagined a vacuum in my chest and arms. I felt a directionless tidal wave of power crash into me as my pecs, shoulders and arms double in circumstance. The shirt that was two sizes too big is now stretched tight across my chest like a second skin. When she returned with a couple of guys I was growling from my chest with each exhale. As soon as they filled the bar with all 45s I seized the bar so forcefully the plates jumped. I roared as I lifted the bar above me. The weightlifters took half a step back in astonishment. I hungrily ensnared their emotions and ram them in me. I slowly lowered the bar to my chest. When I stopped the downward movement the bar flexed under all that weight.

"Bruce, you're going to hurt yourself!"

I gave her a Kubric stare and began to press the bar. I lifted it halfway through my range of motion when my arms started shaking and I felt cracking in my arms. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! She's right! I forgot to strengthen my BONES! I instantly diverted the tidal wave to my skeleton.

"Guys! Help me get this off him!"

"NO!", I roared. Power filled my bones making them denser and harder. I completed the lift after the cracking and shaking stopped.

When I lowered the bar for another rep I noticed three guys (one was obviously a competitive heavy weight bodybuilder) and a gal joined Janice and the others to watch me. The bodybuilder's chest and arms weren't even half my size. A few in the crowd were checking out my crotch. Some others had little erections of their own. With a smirk I tell Janice to get my phone from my shorts pocket and unlock it with the face id. At the same time I make my Kegel spasm so fast it momentary becomes a second heart. By the time Janice touches my shorts I have a long, thick, hard, throbbing erection going down my leg. I'm positive the glans can be seen peeking out from under the shorts leg because I hear her gasp and the lesser men mutter.

"Start a video. Make sure to show how much weight I'm lifting," I command her. As soon as I see her start recording I explosively rip through twenty-five reps growling on each press. On the final rep I squeezed all the muscles involved in the exercise before racking the bar. The clank of the bar hitting the rack echoed throughout the gym and I stood up over the bench, legs far apart. I brought my arms up and, with a loud, "GRRRRR!!!!", I moved into a most muscular pose. I felt the shirt fabric stretch thin as my pecs threatened to rip through. I hold the position and ask, "How much weight was that, Janice?"

"E-eight hundred fifty-five," she stammered.

"Eight fifty-five with twenty-five reps!" I yelled. I challenged all the viewers, "You CHILDREN think you can do better?" I slowly moved out of the pose. My hands in fists, elbow slightly cocked, shoulders pulled back, abs sucked in, chest and pelvis thrust forward. Now I'm positive the outline of my cock can be seen through my shorts. A few bystanders stand in awe, their jaws dropped and eyes wide. The others turn away, feeling lesser. "Come and take me on, if you've got the balls for it. I will crush you!" I motion Janice to stop recording and give me the phone.

When she handed me the phone she said, "Bruce, I don't think I can do this anymore...record you I mean."

I stepped up to her, my pecs touching her breasts. "But you will," I said as I stroked her cheek. She tilted her head into my hand. Her eyelids fluttered closed. "Because you are enjoying it. Now what's next."

She put a hand on my chest, took a step back and blinked several times to clear her head. Her trembling finger pointed to the left."Th-that."

I uploaded the raw video to MGF and Instagram as she guided me to my next challenge. And so went the day; after I maxed out the weight on a machine or bar Janice would record my striated, hard body while I exerted my dominion on the viewer. I did notice that the gym was getting busier as time went by. Most people only half-heartedly worked out. They would do a few reps, then stare in my direction for a minute.