Thanks, Metrica!

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A very special workout at a very special gym.
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Fru
Fru
37 Followers

Story for The Worm's 2006 "Role of the Dice: December's Story Exhibition;" a SECRETARY in a GYM with SUBLIMINALS. Feel free to contact me at the address in my profile.

*

Marcy shook her long hair around her back before she bound it up into a pony-tail. Her hair was always bound up; no matter what she did, it always seemed to be the appropriate course of action. Marcy was a secretary for the president of a major dot com company, which sold, as far as she could tell, something called "synergy." It didn't seem to be anything real, or at least anything tangible. The money certainly was, though, so she never brought it up. How could she, really? This company had given her everything; they'd helped her find an apartment after college and even given her a discount to this gym.

Marcy finished pulling her hair through the loop and checked her shoelaces. Tight, like her sports-bra; she'd found in the last few weeks that she *did* have a bit of an exhibitionist streak. Nothing was wrong with that, of course. Men certainly seemed to appreciate it.

She dropped her sports bag (tastefully embroidered with the company logo) into a locker and stepped onto the main floor of the gym. She put an extra swish into her step as she passed the men's side and put her white, monogrammed towel over one of the treadmills on the women's side.

Yes, there was a separate side for women and men; it was really quite ingenious. Many gyms offered separate times for women and men to work out because so many people got self-conscious in the presence of the opposite sex. This plan was flawed; everyone had to work. There was only one prime work-out time in the evening, and every good fitness-conscious adult wanted a chance to work out every day. So, Metrica Gyms came up with the solution to this knotted problem; there would be a men's side and a women's side, both mirror images of each other. Before the word "segregation" comes to your mind, breathe deeply and let it pass; it's no such thing, Marcy was told by an instructor her first day. Both sides are fully equipped with the latest in work-out gear, TV's, and mats.

Marcy had been a little leery about this system at first, but she had to admit that it had many advantages; she could work out whenever she wanted to and she only had to worry about stares going to and from the locker room; all four walls (including the divider that separated the men's and women's sides) were mirrored. The men could only see the women as they walked the short corridor outside the locker rooms to their separate side of the gym.

Marcy bent one leg back and caught her foot behind her exquisitely rounded bottom. One hand brushed it. Both her hand and her ass tingled. She sighed, held the stretch, and repeated the process with her other leg.

Languidly, she went through a few more leg stretches before pulling her headphones from around her neck and stepping up onto the treadmill. It was a very nice one, a new one as far as she could tell. It had metallic areas on the handles to place her hands and read her heart-rate, it had a padded track to protect her knees, and it had a special jack she could plug her headphones into so that she could hear the TV. Metrica took *such* good care of its customers.

*Let's see,* thought Marcy, *what should I watch first? This really beats work; no taking orders. I watch what I want to watch and only what I want to watch,* but she knew there was really no choice in the matter. She would watch the movie her boss mentioned seeing this weekend; after all, a secretary needed to be able to make small talk while she served the coffee. Luckily, Metrica's internal cable system allowed her to order movies instantaneously; they must have had *every* movie in existence! Metrica was *so* cool.

She found the movie and pressed play. It started up, and so did the treadmill. That was another nice thing about Metrica; the synchronization between the machines and the movies. At normal gyms, the movie would always get quiet just when she was going into her sprints and she couldn't hear. She would miss things!At Metrica, the workout equipment was wired into the TV's somehow (it was beyond a simple secretary like her, all that technical knowledge) so that the two merged for a flawless work-out and viewing experience.

The treadmill warmed her up as the opening credits rolled. She adjusted her headphones (provided especially by Metrica, *so* cool!) so there was no danger of them falling off. The machine started to pick up speed as the title came on the screen. It was a clever title and she laughed at it (she remembered being faintly shocked at it when her boss told her about it earlier, but that was just one more way women were inferior to men; they were *so* silly and inconsistent) but she couldn't remember it a minute later—it had faded from her mind like off of the movies she'd seen at Metrica. She figured it was clever of them; this way, she could watch and rewatch everything they had and never get bored. Metrica was *so* nice to its customers.

Marcy watched the main character go through her day. It was a secretary, just like her! How nice of her boss to recommend a movie she could relate to. He was *so* nice. Maybe she should give him something in return...

The movie secretary, Lacy, went to work in a sweet little outfit; a sleek minidress with garters and thigh-high leather boots that shone as she strode down the street, admired by every man she saw. Marcy made a mental note to buy an outfit like that; if her boss's reaction was anything like the reaction of Lacy's boss in the movie, Marcy wanted in on *that*. This was *such* a good movie.

She felt her cheeks start to glow as the treadmill kicked her up to a jog. She felt some heat down below as well, when the movie boss took a long, lingering look at Lacy's curves. Marcy got a respite; the speed dropped back to a quick walk as the movie boss went back to his important business and Lacy left to make him some coffee.

Marcy jogged as Lacy flirted with all of the various office-workers. Some of the girls, too!

A smiling, ebullient fitness instructor gave her a thumbs up as she passed by; it interrupted her daze and she looked up.

She saw herself, curvaceous and confidant, in the mirror. She was exuding a gentle glow from all of her physical exertions. Her curves flowed through one another, giving her a fluid, feline grace. She smiled, brushed a wisp of hair behind her ear, and turned back to her movie as she felt the machine increase the pace once again.

Lacy was reticent, enjoying her boss's advances but spurning them. What a stupid little *tease*! Marcy knew enough to know that *that* was bad. Wrong, mean, stupid! At least the dumb girl didn't protest, even if she *did* think she was equal to men. Silly girl. What had her boss recommended this thing for? No, wait, he knew better, right? So there must be some reason to watch on.

Marcy pouted at the screen. Even if her Boss recommended this movie, there was still too much walking; she wanted to stretch her legs and run and something exciting had to happen on screen to let her. She needed *action* onscreen! Oh my, but the Boss was attractive...he was making her *drip*. The way the camera would close up on his face as he checked Lacy out or made an off-color compliment gave Marcy the *shivers*; it was as if he was speaking right through the screen to *her*. Come to think of it, he looked a lot like her Boss in real life. Maybe, since she couldn't have the actor, she could have *him*. What a thought!

Marcy gasped aloud as she realized what she should do. She should seduce her Boss! Who knew that going for a run would lead to such earth-shattering ideas? Earth-shattering, yes, like their sex would be. She could almost feel it now, his giant cock between her tits, in her mouth, filling her pussy. Wow, what a rush! Thanks, Metrica! This was *so* cool, this was *hot*, she was *dripping*.

She gasped again as Lacy finally gave in.

"Sir? Sir! Sir...*Sir*," moaned Lacy, sinking to her knees. She'd finally realized that her mission in life was to *serve* her Boss, the man that gave her lowly life meaning, the man whose cock she *needed* inside her at every moment. "Puh-*please*," she gasped, reaching a shaking hand toward the conspicuous lump in his pants.

Marcy could feel the blood rushing to her nipples and cunt, through her veins and arteries, engorging everything in sight---everything but her brain. Her brain wasn't so important anymore, not to do her *job*, which was to please her Boss. All she had to *do* was please her Boss, and it was what she thought about every moment, every second, every millisecond of her waking and sleeping life. She *dreamed* about her Boss and all of the pleasure she gave him, all of the pleasure he got from her, wrung from her needy, *aching* body.

"Ohhhhh..." she breathed, desperate for the treadmill to let her off so she could go to the locker room and get off, thinking about her Boss and his long, hard prick. That *wonderful* cock that would be waiting for her on Monday morning...if she could survive the weekend without it! All she could do while the treadmill held her in its grasp was to live through Lacy...now *there* was a girl who was *living!* She was down on her knees, bobbing her head up and down on her Boss's cock, sucking and humming and slurping. He was moaning and pulling her hair. The camera zoomed in to show the delirious smile on Lacy's face. It matched Marcy's own lascivious grin as she jogged ever faster, preparing for the home stretch.

With a click and a bang, it was upon her; the Boss, overcome by how *good* his *secretary* was being, *good* just like Marcy would be, had turned Lacy around, shoved her over his desk, and plunged his hot pole into her needy cunt. Marcy moaned aloud, her hands scrabbling at her tits right in the gym as she watched Lacy get the fuck of her life.

In and out, in and out the Boss pounded. Marcy could hear Lacy's juices squelching around the massive prick hammering in and out of her hole.

The Boss's pace picked up and so did Marcy's. The good little secretary sprinted as he thrusted, moaned as Lacy moaned. It was a race to see who of the three would cum first, and it was going to be a photo finish.

"Oh! Please, please, please," she moaned. The machine's speed increased again as the Boss got closer and closer. Lacy started screaming and wailing, letting the whole office know how *good* her Boss was.

"I--oh--need--help--faster--I--" she gasped. Her grunts and phrases became more and more disjointed under the onslaughts of pleasure she was facing, her thoughts breaking like cell phone reception in a tunnel. "Pound--need in--get me--*kneelserveobey*--ohhhgawwddohhh! Bosssss!" She cried as she came in torrents, in a whirlwind of passionate giggles. Life was so *happy* and *gooooood* when you knew what your purpose was, what your *place* was. It was so *good* to *serve!*

She did her cooldown in a haze of happiness, barely noticing the stares she got from the other female patrons as the trainers tried to distract them, or the whoops and cheers coming from the male section behind the mirror. Marcy did a stretch or two on the side of her treadmill when the credits to that movie, darned if she could remember what it was about, finished and the machine let her off. She felt fit, hot, and sexy as she pranced toward the locker rooms. Boy, would her Boss be *happy* when he saw how *gorgeous* she was getting, especially when she wore one of her new outfits. Thanks, Metrica!

Fru
Fru
37 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymousover 12 years ago
metrica will be surprised

A new twist on an old subliminal theme movie.

Look forward to reading the account of Monday mornings focus meeting in the boardroom?

AnonymousAnonymousover 13 years ago
Oooohhhh

That was good! Great job!

AnonymousAnonymousover 15 years ago
What a fantasy

OMG you have to continue this story! Maybe change this story for us girls, you know, Marcy into a Mark. Oh, i'm hot. Thanks for the warmup.

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