Trained by the Muscle God

“Damn bro, you gotta get those numbers up!”

What the fuck? Who does this guy think he is?

I stare up at the gym ceiling, lying on the bench and struggling to lift the barbell as some random gym bro stands behind me. Who just walks up to someone while they’re lifting and insults them like that?

“Need a spotter?”

“Urrrggghhh…fine…” I mutter in between reps.

He steps in close and rests his hands on the barbell, allowing me to get a glimpse of his thick, beefy arms. Holy shit—this dude’s jacked!

I struggle to finish the reps. I’m definitely not fit, but I’m trying. I’ve always been a bit chubby, but I’ve recently committed to working on myself. I’ve been flipping through Instagram for “fitness inspiration”, which largely just consists of young, jacked dudes flexing and showing off with girls. As weird as that may seem, it gets me motivated. I want to be like that.

I finally sit up on the bench and get a look at this guy. Damn—he’s just like the social media guys! His tall, golden-tan body towers over me as he stares down with light blue eyes. The azure hue seems to contrast with his dark, chocolate-brown hair. The thick, messy nest is swept to the side casually, giving him a look of effortless style. I could spend all day combing my messy blond hair, and it’d still never look like that.

His physique though…goddamn. He wears a loose-fitting tank top that shows off his dense, rounded shoulders. His lats bulge and guide my eyes down the narrow, inverted-triangle shape of his torso. You can even see his abs through the fabric—what the fuck?!

“Bro, my eyes are up here.”

Ugh. This guy’s an asshole.

I look up at his sharp, masculine face. His narrow, foxlike nose complements his chiseled jawline and full, healthy cheeks. A cocky, arrogant smile forms on his lips, revealing brilliant white, fanglike teeth. Now I understand why this guy’s so smug…I bet girls just throw themselves at him.

“My name’s Trent. What’s yours?” His deep voice rings out.

“Sean. Thanks for spotting me.”

“No worries. I’m always down to help the new guys. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Yeah, I’m just getting started.”

“I can tell.” He glances down at my pudgy belly.

I grimace.

He might be a bit rude, but he’s right. I have work to do. In truth, this guy has my dream physique. He’s big and powerful, but not too huge. They call it “aesthetics” online. It’s when a guy trains to sculpt and perfect his body instead of just putting on a ton of mass and becoming a freakishly huge bodybuilder.

“But don’t worry, man. I’d be down to keep helping you out.” His expression softens.

“Woah, really?!”

“Yeah! I’ll fucking transform you!” He flexes his dense bicep, showing off the defined peak.

“Thanks, bro! When can we get started?”

“Let’s start tomorrow—I just finished for the day. I’m heading to the locker room to change. Wanna come?”

“Sure. I’m done for today too.”

I walk back to the locker room with my new friend. I can’t believe my luck! Trent clearly knows what he’s doing, and he’s willing to help me for free! I imagine it costs a small fortune to hire a guy like him as a personal trainer.

I glance out the corner of my eye as he pulls off his tank top. His back is ridiculously muscular. Beneath his tan skin is a network of muscles I never even knew existed. It’s like looking at mountain ranges on a topographic map.

His chest is just as built. Full, hard pecs protrude, each adorned with a small, dark brown nipple. His proportions are so incredible. He reminds me of the top guys on social media—David Laid, Jeff Seid, and most famously, Zyzz. I think every young lifter goes through a Zyzz phase. He’s an aesthetic legend.

But Trent though…fuck, he gives all those guys a run for their money.

I look away as he pulls his pants down. He has a great physique, but I’m not gay or anything like that. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.

“Alright, I’ll see you here tomorrow. Does noon sound good?” Trent walks over as I finish changing.

“Yeah, that works.”

“Cool, don’t be late.” He flashes a playful smirk.

As I drive home, I can’t get him out of my head. Yeah, he comes across as a bit of an asshole, but maybe that just comes with the territory when you’re that immaculate. He’s worked hard to have a body like that, and he deserves to be a bit cocky…and he deserves to be respected. I’m gonna work hard and make the most of his training.

When I arrive home, I head straight into my room and flop down on the bed. I’m feeling exhausted, but I still can’t stop thinking of Trent. I guess this is just admiration—it’s like meeting an idol or something. I wonder if he has a girlfriend…a guy like that has to. He can probably pull any girl he wants. I bet when he gets home from the gym, his girlfriend just falls to her knees and opens wide to accept him.

Woah.

What the fuck?

That’s a weird thought.

It’s gotta be true though. I’m sure a guy like him expects to be serviced regularly. I can just envision it…he slides out his thick cock, his pubes all sweaty from his workout. I bet he rubs it all over her face, marking her with his scent like an animal marking its territory.

I begin rubbing my bulge as I imagine the scene. Light pulses of pleasure emanate from my rod as I grind my palm against it through my pants. My rapidly inflating dick loves this.