Chapter 8

'This' was the Fitness Center, where a somewhat different training session was going on...

Marcus "Mac" or sometimes "Big Mac" Goff had been cycling through the weight machine stations when Mike and Lois had first clicked past. Marcus was a fitness coach -- and he looked the part, heavily muscled, slightly Teutonic of facial feature and gracefully catlike in his movements. He was a lifter -- a gym rat -- all of his friends were lifters, and all of his girlfriends were lifters. He was here, though, because he needed something different, some change of pace...

His friends all had -- and worshipped -- hard bodies, male and female alike. He himself could -- and did, when properly stimulated -- go both ways, accepting attention form both males and females. But hard bodies were hard bodies -- and Mac had reached the point where male hard bodies and female hard bodies didn't seem to be much different. The big thing that bothered him was breasts -- female lifters lost theirs and went flat, as a rule, and he had this unaccountable fascination with big, natural jugs...

Model-types could occasionally have some endowment to them, but they were thin and sticklike and brittle -- and not generally a lot bigger in the breast department than female lifters. No, big naturals tended to be mounted on a different model...

Mac had a lot of trouble with the concept -- both from his own belief system and from the ragging that he got from his friends -- but he couldn't help goggling at the big, fat, soft racks of tit-flesh that some of the chunky housefraus that worked out at the health club where he worked carried on their chests. They bobbled, they jiggled, they did little dances as the women thumped on the steppers or the treadmills or the bikes -- sometimes seeming to be independent not only of each other but the woman they were mounted on. Thin, well-muscled women had breasts that gave a little springy bounce, maybe, when they jogged, but the ones Mac loved did figure eights and rocked and bobbled and flopped and did AMAZING things!

The women that sported the flesh that brought joy to his eyeballs were regularly awful; to a man to whom the body was a temple, they tended to be garbage dumps. But Mac would inevitably find himself hovering over some poor, sweaty beginner, teaching her proper movements and helping her benefit from her pain-filled labors in order to have an opportunity to watch her chest rise and fall -- and make other movements. His friends and colleagues -- male and female -- disparaged these poor, stupid cattle among themselves (not publicly, they were their bread and butter, after all) calling them sweathogs -- or just pigs. There was no comparison between those jiggling piles of flesh and their hard, sleek bodies, and while they might feel sorry for them, in general, they were beyond help. "Hey Mac, look at that little piglet on stepper number four! Sweet in the face, but gawd..." Only that morning one of his female colleagues had leaned close and said that -- and it was typical. He had friends who worked at the all-female clubs that laughed themselves sick telling horror stories about some poor wreck with thunder-thighs and a cellulite-pocked moon of an ass trying to do some simple exercise... The women that came to his club seemed to come in two schools; the vast majority never lasted more than a month -- or at best, a month at a time as they ran out of willpower and dropped out then came back gamely for another run at a cause already lost... "We should teach her the refrigerator lift," was one of his colleagues' favorite sayings. A small -- VERY small -- number, made real progress -- some for a while, and some steadily -- and when they got there, they were just as snobbish -- if not more so -- than the pros...

Could Mac pick up one of these women? To date, he hadn't, although occasionally one made it known to him that she might be approachable. Most were married -- and the club was his workplace -- and, well, the breasts were beautiful, but the things that came with it didn't meet his standards -- he couldn't justify getting involved with an overweight woman just to have her breasts.

So Mac went to the Inn -- not because he was desperate; he could pick up girls, quality girls -- no problem. He was looking for some kind of miracle chick -- one he couldn't even visualize, because the parts seemed to come from two different kits...

Ten o'clock came and went and nothing appeared either on the Hosts or the Visitors screens in Mac's room that captured his interest, so he went down to the fitness center to work off his excess testosterone. The weight machine was a joke, but he could find ways to get tired on it... That's what he was doing when Lois and Mike first viewed the fitness center.

Enter Melissa Thorndyke, wearing an XXL white T-shirt that said 'For a good time call' and an up-arrow over a red sports bra, spandex sweatpants, and running shoes.

Melissa was twenty-six, a college grad, and worked at a local branch bank. She had a fresh face, light brown hair, freckles, and washed-out blue eyes that could be very expressive, dimples...

... And a pair of BIG, 44DD jugs. Unfortunately, the rest of Melissa was similarly sized -- which was why she showed up in the fitness center. Melissa had never been small -- and seldom 'gotten lucky' as a result; when she had, it was her monster mammaries that reeled the fish in, as a rule. That being the case, she generally knew what to wear and how to wear it to attract attention -- not that it had been helping, lately...

Melissa had collected a boyfriend during her senior year in college and they'd lived together for some time -- but Nick had never wanted to move beyond that -- and eventually, she found out that warming his bed and feeding him and doing his laundry didn't keep him out of other women's panties.

The crash had been horrific, and Melissa, utterly despondent, had let herself go to Hell for almost a year -- but three weeks previous, her boss told her that her performance ratings were in the toilet and she needed to do something serious in the way of an attitude change or she was going to be jobless after the next review. Then her doctor told her that she was showing the early signs of diabetes and MUST get her act together if she wanted to avoid all kinds of health problems.

That got her to the gym and to Weight Watchers -- but both experiences were miserable for her. A girlfriend, however, had discovered an ad for the Inn and suggested to Melissa that if she had the impetus of having a man -- or several -- showing a little interest, it might help her set and achieve her goals...

This trip had been without expectation; she was here to learn the ropes and see if the Inn was the Mecca it claimed to be -- and tonight hadn't been all that exciting. Still, she'd seen some things that indicated to her that if she could get above the bar, there would be rewards out there... Romantically, the visit had been a bust, but there was a fitness center, and it was likely to be deserted; she could slog on the treadmill or the stepper and improve her endurance without the shrew at the health club making backhanded compliments and smiling her smarmy smile...

There was a muscle hunk in the room when she got there, so she asked the guy, "You don't mind if I use the stepper..." He'd waved, and that was all she wrote -- Melissa had no illusions as to his level of interest. She got on the stepper and started slogging...

... And it sucked. She was sweating like a pig in thirty seconds and puffing and blowing... The stepper was the same model as the one she used at the club and she'd set the same settings, but she hadn't brought her headphones, and all she could do was stare at the countdown clock and think about how goddamned painful this was...

Mac had seen her and been mildly irritated initially, but she'd been polite and he didn't own the place. He'd seen her picture online, too, and it hadn't sparked any interest. Now, watching her, he felt sympathy for her but was in no position to volunteer to help. He shifted to the bench and started pulling the bar down, running a couple of hundred pounds -- easy stuff.

This movement brought him to a position generally in front of Melissa, so her eyes naturally drifted his way -- and stayed there. He was this collection of lumpy muscle that she figured could lift small cars, and he was wearing loose shorts... Was there a little something extra there at the opening of the right leg? That made Melissa REALLY hot; she got pink and panted and the sweat ran... "Hey, can I take off my shirt? It's hot in here..."

Mac didn't think it was particularly hot, but he was shirtless. Besides... He waved at a sign on the wall that said, "Our patrons are reminded that this is an adult area -- full nudity is allowed. Patrons bothered by this should use the family fitness center as we are specifically providing an environment where patrons may go nude." "Looks like it to me. The way I read the sign, it's your call."

"Thank God!" Melissa gasped, throwing the wet shirt over her head. "I'd strip down to nothing, but I don't want you to have to either puke or leave..."

Mac smiled. "You'd be surprised what I've seen -- I'm a fitness trainer."

Melissa, just getting going again, snorted. "Are you guys all sadists? My trainer seems to think I should enjoy the pain..."

Mac grinned. "That's because we do -- the endorphins kick in and give us a high -- but some of us forget that average people either can't or don't want to push that hard." He didn't know why he was talking to her -- except maybe because it gave him a chance to get a good look at the yard of cleavage she was displaying, even in a sports bra...

"I need... other incentives..." Melissa puffed. "Actually... I... have incentives... but... when I'm pushing these pedals... they're too far away..."

"You need a distraction," Mac told her. "Something to take your mind off what you're doing."

"Uh huh," Melissa panted. "Well, there's you..." Mac snorted, and Melissa pressed, "Gee, I can look, can't I?"

Mac snorted. "Sure."

"Why aren't you nude?" Melissa panted. "I bet... you aren't... shy..."

Mac eyed her. "I just noticed the sign myself. Do you need that much of a distraction?" Was the woman coming on to him?

"It would... sure get... the juices... flowing..." Melissa panted. "I... know better... than to expect... more..."

Mac sat up fully, straddling the bench. "Tell me about your incentives and goals."

"Uh oh..." Melissa panted, "I... let the... sadist out..." But she grinned, and Mac found himself grinning back. "Had a... boyfriend... Lost him... Let myself go," she gaped. "Too heavy... Doctor says... health problems... around the corner... Need to... get my... shit together..."

"Pretty ephemeral, if your legs hurt," Mac noted, nodding. "You need a more focused goal or two -- and a distraction. How much longer?" He waved at the stepper.

"Oh, God," Melissa panted, "Four minutes and forty seven seconds..." It was eternity in Hell...

"Okay, supposing I worked out nude. Would that do it for you?"

Melissa ducked her head but her eyes glowed. "Probably."

"What's in it for me?" Mac had a sudden flash...

"I... What would you want?" 'I'd fuck him -- I'd burn this thing out trying to get to it!' Melissa thought.

"I'm uh, into big naturals..." Mac said quietly.

"Well, shit!" Melissa crossed her arms at the bottom of the bra, skinned it up, and sent it flying, "THOSE I've got!"

Mac's eyes bulged. His mouth opened. They were MELONS! With big, fat, soda-can sized areolas in baby pink topped with fat, chewy nipples! "Wow!"

Melissa dimpled. "Why, thank you, Sir!" she puffed. "Is there... anything else... you want me... to do?"

"Just keep stepping," Mac groaned. "I want to watch them... move..."

"Okay," Melissa grinned. THIS was cool -- watching him devour her titties with his eyes! But... "You haven't..."

Mac's eyes never left her as he stood and shucked out of his shorts. Melissa was more than pleased with the result -- he was a god! With an erection! Pointed at her! "Ooohh, that's so nice..."

Mac sat back down, straddling the bench -- and his hand went to his erection, sliding up and down it before he realized what he was doing. "Oops! Sorry!"

"You can... do that... I'd be happy... to watch that... I'd be happy... to do more..." she puffed. "I... take it... as a... compliment!" She kept stepping. "Are they... moving... enough?"

"Yeah." They shook. They shimmied. They bounced. They did little combo movements that involved two or more of the above... They bounded together and swayed apart and... Mac was in Heaven! Women in the gym had never taken their tops off; Mac realized now that he'd have fucked any one of several of them, if they had. The fact that they were sort of under control and not fully visible was the only reason he hadn't broken down and accepted an invitation... He could fuck THIS one! She'd as much as said so! And those were the finest set he'd ever laid eyes on... He was fisting his cock again. "I think you need a new personal trainer -- don't you?"

"Yes!" Melissa's eyes were glazed; she was marching on that stepper like it was actually getting her closer to that beautiful dick the head of which kept appearing and disappearing in his fist... "I sure do!"

Mac, totally into the situation, got up and came close, watching her eyes map his cock. "You need a goal. What do you want?"

"It..." she gasped. "I want to suck it. I want to hold it in my hands..."

"Finish your stepping, and you can suck it," Mac told her. "I'm going to play with those titties while you suck it. We'll make some new exercises with rewards like you've never had before..."

"Yesss. Oh, God..." Melissa had never wanted anything as bad in her life! The guy was Adonis! She wanted that cock -- it had to be seven inches -- somehow, she would find a way to wrap herself around that... She KNEW he could probably go all night! He could have her titties -- do anything he wanted with them! She didn't care! She started hammering away at the stepper, jacking up the speed of her efforts, pouring it on -- she wanted to get there!

Mac reached out a hand and palmed an orb; it shook and jiggled and bounced and shimmied in his hand, dancing to her efforts like a wild thing -- and Mac jerked his hand away from his cock for fear that he would shoot and deny the woman her reward...