Discarded Gym Clothes
Jared slumped on the cold bench in the locker room, staring despondently at the floor. It was his fourth time here, and he still felt so out of place. He was comfortable with the cardio machines, but the weightlifting area? That was an entirely different world—a world of animalistic grunting, clanging metal, and guys twice his size throwing weights around like toys. He had hovered near them earlier, feeling like an intruder in a foreign land, before retreating to the safety of the locker room. He desperately wanted to be like them but had no idea where to even start.
As he sat there, stewing in his frustrations, something in the corner of his eye caught his attention: a dirty black tank top lay crumpled on the bench across from him, stained with sweat and reeking of body odor. Next to it was a damp, oversized pair of gray sweatpants that similarly reeked. They looked as though they had been left behind by one of those jacked gym regulars that he was too intimidated to approach.
He reached out hesitantly, hoping to bring them to the lost and found. His fingers brushed against the damp fabric. “Gross,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose at the sensation. Yet, despite the dampness and rankness of the clothes, he couldn’t bring himself to leave them for someone else to deal with. His gaze lingered on the worn material, imagining the kind of person who had worn it: strong, confident, sexy. Everything he wasn’t.
Maybe the person was coming back? After all, there are showers in the locker room, perhaps they had simply forgotten to put their dirty gym clothes in their locker. But his body refused to listen to his brain. His arms began moving with a mind of their own. Before he could realize what he was doing and second-guess himself, he had stripped off his shorts, picked up the sweatpants, and slid them over his slim legs. The pair was still warm from the person's previous workout, and the front crotch area felt... crusty..? Jared was bewildered by the betrayal of his body. He hadn't meant to do any of this... why did he put on these gross sweatpants? In response, his arms ripped off his shirt and brought the filthy tank top over his torso, seemingly without him even intending to do so. The tank top was loose, hanging awkwardly off his skinny frame. It was almost disturbingly damp, as though the person who had worn it before him had taken a shower with it... and had never worn deodorant before. Before he had a chance to question what had happened, the tank top settled over his shoulders, and a strange, euphoric warmth spread through him, clouding his mind and releasing his inhibitions. He felt... different.
His eyes flicked over to the mirror on the wall. The clothes still looked oversized, but they didn’t seem ridiculous anymore. They looked... right. He looked at the door leading back to the gym floor, and for the first time, he felt the urge to head to the weight rack.
Walking through the gym floor, his eyes looked past the judgemental stares in his direction for wearing the oversized set of clothes. He didn't notice people fixate on the stains on the crotch or the fact that the tank top was still dripping with sweat. His ears tuned out the gags at the stench they exuded. Jared simply made a beeline for the squat rack. Using his minimal knowledge from observing the gymbros, Jared loaded the barbell with weights and placed himself underneath the barbell, the modest weight balanced awkwardly on his shoulders. He’d never been here before—mentally or physically. This was uncharted territory, but somehow it felt like he knew what he was doing and always had. As he squatted down and pushed back up, he felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt before.
He racked the bar, stepped back, and froze. A faint tingling sensation rippled across his chest and shoulders. It started subtly—like an itch, he couldn’t quite place—but soon intensified into a deep, pulsing, orgasmic warmth. Jared glanced at the mirror and his jaw dropped.
The first change he noticed was his hair. It puffed slightly, the dark brown lightening ever so slightly slightly. Strands began to coil and curl, framing his face as if they were growing right before his eyes. The curls bounced slightly with every breath, thick and untamed as if he’d spent years cultivating the perfect gym-bro mane.
Then he felt his chest suddenly tighten. Jared gasped, grabbing at his pecs instinctively. They felt heavier, denser—like a pump from a workout that wouldn’t fade. His fingers sank into firm muscle, his once-flat chest expanding outward into two solid slabs. He rubbed his chest, in awe of just how much there was to grab. The damp fabric of the tank top, which had hung limply before, now clung to his pecs. His firm nipples were visible through the tank top, which was now skin-tight. The weight of his chest pulled his shoulders back, giving him an imposing, confident posture.
The heat spread to his arms. Jared watched, transfixed, as his biceps began to swell. They grew rounder, and thicker, the veins snaking across them like rivers on a map. His forearms followed suit, the muscles twisting and bulging with newfound definition. His hands, once narrow and delicate, grew rough and calloused, his fingers thicker and more powerful. When he curled his fingers into a fist, it felt like he could crush steel.
Next came his shoulders and back. His shoulders rounded out like firm cannonballs, broadening his frame and making the tank top look as though it was going to burst from his frame. His traps rose like mountains on either side of his neck, which thickened and became more pronounced. Turning to the side, Jared caught a glimpse of his back in the mirror—it was wide, a tapestry of ridges and grooves that looked like they’d been carved by years of hard work.
The sensation moved down to his core. His stomach tightened and hardened, his abs popping into view one by one. A deep V-shaped groove appeared, leading down from his chiseled obliques to his hips. He ran a hand over his stomach, marveling at how solid it felt, the faint sheen of sweat highlighting every ridge.
Then his legs began to change. Jared stumbled, grabbing the squat rack for balance as his thighs expanded, the muscles growing so fast they pushed against the fabric of the once-too-large sweatpants. His quads and calves flared out with each stumble for balance, now thick and powerful, while his ass ballooned to gargantuan proportions, tightening his sweatpants even further and taking up valuable space for his swelling cock, which grew longer and thicker. A soft moan escaped his lips before he could stifle it as his now massive cock began to leak.
Through his orgasmic bliss while leaning against the squat rack, caught a glimpse of his reflection. His face had changed, too—his jawline was sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced. His once-boyish features now carried a rugged, masculine edge. His neck was thick and corded with muscle, tying the whole look together.
He couldn't take it anymore. He let out an animalistic grunt–just like the men who weightlift in the gym always do–as he cummed intensely into his too-tight sweatpants. His vision blurred with the orgasmic pleasure induced by his sudden shift in physique. Drool escaped from his lips as he was consumed by the unadulterated euphoria he now felt. Finally, with one last buck of his wide, muscular hips, he finished, and he began to try and compose himself.
He breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling with power. The tank top clung to his body now, soaked with sweat and reeking of effort. His scent filled the air—raw, earthy, and undeniably potent. Jared would have been embarrassed by it before, but now it felt like part of who he was.
He reached up to adjust the tank top, marveling at how his fingers grazed against the boulder-like mounds of his pecs. Turning back to the squat rack, he loaded more plates onto the bar. This time, when he lifted it, it felt like nothing.
Jared racked the barbell with a satisfying clang, stepping back to catch his breath. The weight he’d just squatted was something he wouldn’t have dared to attempt in his wildest dreams. Now, it felt like he could’ve added double the plates. His chest heaved as he inhaled deeply, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and cum.
He turned toward the mirror again, marveling at the sheer size of his new physique. Every inch of him seemed sculpted as if chiseled from stone. His tank top clung to his massive chest, the sweat-soaked fabric outlining every groove of his pecs and abs. His biceps bulged with each subtle movement, and his shoulders looked broad enough to fill the entire mirror.
“Damn…” Jared muttered, his voice low and resonant now. He grinned, unable to resist flexing his arms for the mirror. The peak of his bicep rose like a mountain, veins snaking across the surface. He turned slightly, watching how his back flared out like wings, tapering down to his impossibly tight waist.
Jared glanced around, then pulled his phone out from his gym bag. This body wasn’t something he could keep to himself. Standing in front of the mirror, he adjusted his stance, planting his legs wide to show off his tree-trunk legs. He flexed his arms again. The lighting in the gym was perfect. He snapped a photo, making sure to catch the curve of his biceps, the sharp cut of his jawline, and the unapologetic confidence in his smirk.
Satisfied, he tossed his phone back into his bag, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. For the first time in his life, Jared felt not just strong—but unstoppable.
Jared slung his gym bag over his shoulder, his massive arm flexing with the motion. The straps dug slightly into his broad, muscular shoulders, but he barely noticed. His chest still glistened with sweat, the tank top clinging to him like a second skin. Each step he took toward the exit felt heavy with purpose, his powerful thighs threatening to burst from his sweatpants and his calves popping with every stride.
As he pushed open the gym doors, the cool air hit his sweat-drenched skin, refreshing and invigorating. Jared took a moment to breathe deeply, his massive chest rising and falling. He grinned to himself as he strode across the parking lot
His car was, dwarfed by his hulking presence. Jared swaggered toward it, moving with an effortless macho bravado. His biceps brushed against his sides as he walked, forcing his arms to swing slightly outward. The scent of his workout still hung around him—sweaty, musky, and undeniably masculine.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, he felt the car groan slightly under his new weight. The steering wheel felt smaller in his powerful hands, and the seatbelt stretched tight across his chest, barely able to contain the bulk of his pecs. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror and smirked. The jacked, curly-haired bodybuilder staring back at him was a far cry from the skinny kid who had driven here earlier.
He adjusted the mirror to take in more of his reflection. His jawline looked razor-sharp, his hair wild and tousled from the workout, and his shoulders seemed to crowd the frame. Jared couldn’t help but flex a little as he reached for the ignition, veins popping along his forearm.
The car roared to life, and Jared revved the engine, enjoying the vibrations running through his chest. He shifted into gear, peeling out of the parking lot. His smirk widened as he turned onto the main road, his car rumbling like a predator on the prowl.
Jared didn’t know exactly where he was going, but it didn’t matter one bit. His new life wasn’t about the destination—it was about the ride. And, man was he ready to take his body for one hell of a ride.
