swolemates
Man, couldn’t beat a good workout before lunch, right? After spendin’ yesterday all cramped up in fuckin’ lectures and discussion groups, Beatriz was more than fuckin’ glad to be doin’ something physical for once. The powerful smell of pheromones in the gym was gettin’ her all riled up too - her body bristled with dark hair, sweat clinging to the almost-fur as she grunted with every exertion. Shit, she’d missed the gym; back home, the local workout spot was nothin’ more than a human gym filled with scrawny wolves and those funky-lookin’ witches who always seemed to pop out. Llynhurst catered to supers properly - more weights, stronger machines, muscle and sinew on display at every turn. She’d never found bulk and brawn hot, but she could fuckin’ appreciate a fellow athlete, right?
Speakin’ of fellow athletes, one corner of the gym kept catchin’ her eye as she worked. Some big machote was liftin’ up a storm, and the werewolf found herself matching his pace instinctively. Mierda, the fucker could lift for sure. With a roll of the shoulders, Bea dropped her weights and left her station, padding across the gym to the big blue fucker. No sense in fuckin’ around - she was impressed, and liked what she saw. “Hey, amigo. Saw you ain’t got nobody spottin’ for ya. Need a paw?”
