Flynn's farm (co-written with lilyrose)

chapter 1 by clownshower

Debbie wobbled in late to fitness bootcamp style class at Free Range Fitness on a sunny Saturday.

Around the room, fit hard-bodied men and women in stylish, form-fitting work-out clothes execute burpees with vigorous joy. Bright, white smiles permanently fixed on their picturesque faces. These people seemed ripped right out of the pages of Sports Illustrated. Molded with fine, detailed precision like clay by a dedicated artist’s hand. The artist hand of dedicated, disciplinarian personal trainer that is. The personal trainer of today’s bootcamp is Flynn. This 28 year old star trainer was NOT happy with Debbie’s tardiness.

Flynn has quite the reputation around Free Range Fitness. He’s a little bit (lotta bit if we’re being honest) of a hard ass. But more importantly, he gets results. He has the most clients, the best client weight loss record, and the top sales in supplements. His obsession with molding his clients in helping them achieve their fitness goal earned him the top spot of head trainer at the gym. He has that thousand yard stare. Clients testify that his piercing green eyes never leave you. They’re always watching. Always.

There was nothing he couldn’t do in the gym. Outside the gym, he couldn’t keep his marriage together. It was a sad thing to learn during COVID lockdown that he and his wife, Karen, were married to the wrong person. The world outside the home was chaos. The world inside the home was a firestorm too. His marriage fell apart. Karen drank. A LOT. She was quite the mean drunk.

The couple had met in freshmen year in college. He was a pre-med major. She studied marketing. She saw potential in him. After all, he was 6 foot 3 inches tall, full head of dark hair, had a body made of stone, veiny arms, firm rough hands, and had what seemed to be unlimited stamina on the soccer field.

An only child born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Pretty and petite. Fake tan from head to tow. Hydrated bottle blonde hair. Manicured toes and nails. Make up that is always well put together even at at an 8am class. Kissable pouty lips. Perfect white smile. Perky C-cup tits. Standing 5 foot 6 inches tall. A straight-A student. President of her sorority. Beauty and brains. A real life Barbie doll with her Ken in the flesh. Together, two were a picture perfect couple, but only on the surface.

The pair got married immediately after graduation. Type-A Karen had a set life plan and she wasn’t going to let anyone get in her way. Including, her own husband. She want the house with the white picket fence, the corporate marketing job, the marriage, everything. All as soon as possible. She looked the part of a Stepford Wife but isn’t docile like one. The Daddy’s girl always got what she wanted. Always. Yet there was no satisfaction in her or their marriage.

There was always something she had to nitpick with her husband. Seeing his friends burn out quickly from medical school and be crushed by the weight of student loan debt, he didn’t want the same for himself. Flynn chose a different path int he health field. He was an an accomplished dietician and personal trainer…but he wasn’t a doctor.

If he forgot to take the trash out, it was the end of the world to his wife. If he stood up for himself, he was being difficult because “happy wife, happy life”. The wife was never happy. Days spent inside the house during the pandemic meant Karen drank more and more. Trust me, she was a mean drunk. You see, a narcissist wants all the attention. Kids were out of the question because they would be the center of the universe for the couple. That couldn’t happen for the queen of mean.

They had consummated their marriage only once on. That time being their wedding night. To Karen, it was fine. Just FINE. Nothing to write home about. She didn’t care to engage emotionally during sex. She was a selfish lover, only caring to get her her rocks off.

In the bedroom, Karen only wanted her tiny, tight pussy to be eaten out only. Flynn’s tongue a virtuoso playing a symphony on her swollen clit. Taunting and teasing. Tongue tasting her up and down the length of her wet slit. Softly kissing her tender inner thighs. He was a master of the art of cunnilingus.

The effort was not reciprocated back onto him. No temptation to taste him. To feel him. To satisfy him. They argued about fairness but she wore her husband down. He gave in. Got along to get ahead to make the marriage work.

His wife had her hang ups but she was okay with Flynn masturbating near her. Though, she was particular in how he could cum. Flynn wasn’t allow to cum in nor on her. She would only hold one hand while his other would stroke his throbbing shaft. She wouldn’t watch. Grunting, low groans, and growling with his deep, gravely voice as he orgasmed. He seemed to produce endless ropes of hot, hot cum out of his girthy 8 inch cock. His potent seed always went to waste on the bedsheet.

Such a shame he couldn’t cum inside Karen. He thought his wife would look so sexy with a taught round belly, carrying triplets. There was no truer feeling Flynn felt strongly than the need to breed.

Once he was so sexually frustrated, he punched a deep hole in the wall. His wife never let him hear the end of that. Nag, nag, nag. Flynn would often seek refuge and use the personal gym set up in the garage. When he would spar with his punching bag, he imagined Karen’s face where his hardened fists landed. He would never follow through with that action in real life. A real man never hits a woman…unless the lady wants to be hit, usually during playtime in the bedroom.

When the lockdown lifted, Flynn had finally had enough. The couple separated and he filed for divorce. He renounced his wedding vows and took up new ones. He vowed never to be tamed again. Physically, he was the same as he was when they married except for a full well trimmed beard. Emotionally, he was a changed man.

He threw himself into his work. Fitness had saved him after all. Without discipline and obsession, he wouldn’t have been able to survive with his sanity in tact. When it was safe to go back to the gym, he was elated.

He wasn’t bitter but he did carry a chip on shoulder. Atlas would not be jealous at the weight of the chip that Flynn carried around. It would be a cake walk to carry the weight of that chip than a heavy pillar holding up the heavens. Still, he was a man with dreams of opening up his own gym one day. Alimony payments to his ex wife would put a halt to those plans for now.

Flynn had seen Debbie around the gym over the past few months. Usually he paid no mind but she always stuck out of the crowd. Debbie was a professional pig. No doubt about it. Debbie (Debbie like the zebra cakes) was an apt name for a woman would looked like she ate a cake a day. A gorgeous glutton. She had a small frame with a bloated belly. A deeeeep belly button centered on that heavy gut. Her face was soft with a minor double chin. Her greedy taste palate needed to be satiated at all times.

As a graduate student, she had no shortage of stress in her life. The course work and studying really adds up. Of course, she would convince herself she deserves a snack break or several. Food is always consistent relief and a constant comfort. Fried Mac & Cheese will always be there for you. Ice-cream Sundaes always thinks you’re the best. Fettuccine Alfredo with extra cream will always keep the late night scaries away.

Weight piled on easily. Self-control was out of the question. Every week, she grew a little softer, a little softer, a little wider. Her work out pants were tight maternity leggings. They were the only pants that would fit her round shape these days. Maybe she was once fit but that girl is a far cry from who she is now. Was she a marathon runner? Was CrossFit her life? Was she #FitnessGoals?

Earlier that sunny Saturday, seeing Debbie’s name on the sign-up sheet for his hardcore bootcamp was quite the shock to him. She would come in to use the machines but spend 30 minutes in between the smallest of sets on her phone. The fat girl walked at the slowest speed at the treadmills while snacking on chocolate bars and drinking milkshakes. God, she was so lazy.

Once after an aerobics class, she ordered an XL pizza and ate it in the guest lounge section of the gym. The smell of melted cheese and seasoned meat wafted through the air into every nook and cranny. At least 10 clients were thrown off their diet that day. Their fitness goals were set back a month.