A new kind of workout

chapter 1

I'd always been slim.
I used to be so careful.
I worked as a personal trainer. My day would often start early, but the other trainers and I at the gym I worked for tried to share the workload out between us all so that we did not become completely exhausted
Three times a week, I led a small running group. Well, I say led, but sometimes I had to stay at the back, encouraging the stragglers to keep up. It hardly pushed my own capabilities. I struggled to run slowly. I'd mix it up a bit by running backwards or sideways so that I could watch and encourage my client as we went. A two to three hour ten mile run barely had me breaking into a sweat.
On the days I did not do an early morning run, I had a freelance client I usually took to the park. They were paying me a lot of money to get fit, but they were one of the most lazy, stubborn clients I'd ever met! I often had to chase them out of bed and I had to push them to do more and work harder the entire time. This often meant that I did, what I considered to be, a mild workout alongside her.
I held a spinning class most mornings at eleven. I had to lead from the front demonstrating as I shouted out the next moves.
At two o'clock in the afternoon, I held an aerobics class of some kind. One day it was metafit. Another day it was bums and tums or just a general tone up class.
I should have rested in the evenings, but there was a lot of money to be had from those people who had to work during the day.
On Mondays and Wednesdays I ran a Zumba class at five o'clock. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I held an aerobics for weight loss class and on Fridays I did a class for teenagers.
In between all that, I had my own selection of gym clients that I needed to supervise. Sometimes, this was nothing more than a bit of encouragement and a chat while standing beside them as they strained and sweated on the workout machines. Sometimes I had to demonstrate a technique or jump on a machine nearby to push them on.
Weekends were supposed to be rest days, but I often worked overtime, filling in for sick colleagues and the like.
I did a bit of everything in the gym. When it was quiet, I'd lift a few weights or do a short ten minute run on the treadmill.
I sometimes had to cover holidays and even had do aquarobics in the pool. The only thing I didn't do was dance and yoga.
I was barely still. I always chose an activity holiday. Lazing around on a hot beach was not for me. I skiied, I scuba dived, I did mountain climbing, horse riding, caving and hiking.
Some would have said I was super-fit. Someone who could have competed in a 'gladiators' style TV show with no extra training.
My diet was also part of my own training regime. Lots of water, lots of protein shakes, fresh fruit and leafy veg, lean protein such as chicken and fish. No dairy, very little fat, or carbs. I rarely ate out. Everything was controlled. If I was hungry, I'd try drinking water first. If that did not stave off the hunger, I'd try curbing it with a protein shake or a piece of fruit.
My body was a temple, with very little body fat, lots of lean, toned muscle. I had slim cheeks, a chiselled jaw, with no hint of a double chin.
I kept my head shaved and wore caps a lot. That way I was not constantly washing and drying my hair. Showering was quick and easy and my caps kept the sweat from dripping in my eyes.
I rarely wore anything other than skin tight Lycra, or sweatpants and sweatshirts. My work uniform consisted of sweatpants and a polo shirt with trainers, but sometimes, I'd strip down to shorts and a vest.
I was young, I was handsome and I had a fabulous body. What was there not to like?
Yet, take me out of my own environment, put me in a suit and send me to a night club and I lost all my confidence.
I had never liked the drinking scene. I only imbibed during celebrations when I would allow myself a sip of wine or champagne. It was rude not to wasn't it?
I'd rarely finish a glass. I'd been drunk once and hated it.
I'd never had a proper girlfriend (or boyfriend). I was a complete virgin. I had never even come close to having sex. But I figured that I never missed what I'd never had.
Of course I had plenty of offers! I would often be propositioned. I turned them all down.
The reality was, I lived on my own and felt very awkward in those social situations. I always seemed to say the wrong thing, offend someone or simply could not think of anything to say.
When I started working for my current gym, I invented a home life for myself. I was gay, I had a live-in lover called Pete, who was a very busy solicitor. When it came to Christmas parties and such, when I could bring my 'plus 1', Pete was always too busy to come. I showed them pictures of Pete and I on holiday, but the photographer was never any good and never caught his face on camera. It became a standing joke at work. They knew what he looked like from the back. They'd seen him from a distance, they'd seen various body parts, but I made sure they never saw his face...because Pete did not exist!
My family lived some distance away, so I had little contact with them.
The only people I knew were through the gym, or they were free lance clients. I had no real freinds.
I was also rarely still for longer than ten minutes. There was always something that needed cleaning in the house, or fixing. I was proud of my house. If Pete had existed he would have never found a thing out of place. I liked a minamilist style. That way there was less to dust and less to clean. Everything had it's place. Everything had to be put away clean and tidy after use.
I didn't watch much telly because I was not still long enough to watch a whole programme. I didn't mind listening to the radio because I could listen to music, keep up to date with the news and get on with my jobs.

If anyone asked me if I was happy, I was lying if I said yes. I was stuck in a rut. I was lonely and I filled that great big hole of boredom with my cleaning routines.
17 chapters, created StoryListingCard.php 6 years , updated 5 years
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Growrnshowr 6 years
This story just gets better and better, any chance you can actually mention what he weights soon please smiley
Aquarius64 6 years
Applejack, this story is still in development. The main character started out as straight. He’s TOLD people he’s gay, he pretends he has a gay boyfriend, but as he is still a virgin I don’t think he knows whether he’s Arthur or Martha yet and if he doesn’
Lawjack 6 years
It's a gay male weight gain. Not straight
Aquarius64 6 years
Do you mean my title and my description?
Well, I’m still writing. I’m still working out what is going to happen. My stories are organic. They develop as I write them and unless I have adapted the story from something else, I have no idea where they are
Lawjack 6 years
You need to correct the tagging
Aquarius64 6 years
Thanks for the comment, but the staples and stitches were out. It was the wound that burst, but I take your point about the pain.
I have worked on a surgical ward for far too many years to mention, so I know a bit about how they heal, but not from the pa
Chrysophase2003 6 years
Nice Chapter 3. One point. Popping Staples or stitches hurts so much you just see a flash and regain consciousness on the floor.
Built4com4t 6 years
brilliant backstory ...two chubby thumbs up