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Gym Membership, Part 7 (Multi TG RC)
🕑 Added 2025-01-03 04:06:25 +0000 UTCBy FoxFaceStories
A Commission for GWW1992
New Life Gym isn’t all that it appears to be, as Jack, Rob, Jenna, and Greg are about to find out. These unrelated persons are all trying to better themselves during the less busy hours, but the changes that slowly occur to their bodies aren’t entirely what they expected, not that they entirely notice what’s happening. As the four of them change gender and appearance, the employees of the gym, once transformed themselves, watch on in amusement, knowing that a New Life awaits the customers this gym has chosen to bless.
Part 7: Party Time
For the first time since he’d been dumped, Rob was getting optimistic about his chances. Sure, he was somehow shorter, and his longer hair needed trimming (didn’t I already do that two days ago? How is it so long already?), but he no longer looked like a skinny beanpole of a human being. He was proud of his darker skin, which had a gorgeous olive tone, and even a lot of his freckles and blemishes had disappeared. Sure, he wasn’t as well-muscled as Greg or Jenna, or perhaps as Jack was going to be soon, but he was proud of his body and hoping to find a nice girl to show it off to, and perhaps finally move on from his ex.
Which was why it was a shock to him when the taxi pulled up with Jenna inside it, and she was borderline unrecognisable.
“Jenna?” he gasped. “Holy shit, you don’t even look like you!”
“What kind of way is that to talk to a lady?” she said, practically harrumphing.
Maybe the lipstick and dress was too much? she thought to herself.
Rob entered the taxi a little embarrassed. “No! I mean you look, well, hot! If you don’t mind me saying.”
Jenna chuckled. “I don’t mind that at all. I mean, perhaps a little strange from such a younger man, but that’s a good sign, right? I just thought I’d try being a bit ambitious tonight since I’m feeling so good. Clearly you have too; you’re looking rather, er, attractive yourself, if I might say.”
Rob beamed. He had indeed put effort into himself, though it was different than usual. He’d found some makeup and foundation in his bathroom and had no idea how it had gotten there, but the natural gloss it added to his lips and the slight blush it added to his cheeks just felt right. He was still wearing a smart buttoned white shirt, but he had decided to let two more buttons be undone than his usual style. It let his new mounds breath, revealing a hint of cleavage. Of course, he didn’t fully recognise it as cleavage on anything but a subconscious level, but the effect was certainly there. He was wearing a pair of women’s shorts too. These were definitely his ex-girlfriend’s, obviously she had left them over, but they fit him so well and snugly that he rather liked how they revealed his increasingly pronounced derriere.
I’ve put almost as much effort into this as an actual lady, he thought, considering how he’d even straightened his dark hair, which was down to his shoulders. Funny that . . . wait, why is it funny?
Similar thoughts were churning in Jenna’s head as the taxi drove them to town. She had taken the incredibly bold step of wearing an old dress Steven had once gotten for her: a thin red number with even thinner straps, designed to pull tight against her figure. She’d only worn it once, and Steven had remarked about how poorly it fit her lumpy body despite his best hopes. She’d buried it in the back of her closet, swearing never to make a fool of herself like that again. She didn’t feel like a fool now though, because while her stomach was just a little bit bigger than she would have liked, and her shoulders a bit too broad, her figure a little too short and so on, there was no denying that regardless of all of this, she was wearing it well. Her breasts were pert and full, filling the cups properly and leaving a devastating line of cleavage, and her thinner waist allowed her womanly hips to emphasise her hourglass figure. She still felt a little too old and out-of-date for it, but she had already decided to go big or go home.
And besides, Rob rather thinks I’m hot. I’ll take being atractiva for a night!
Indeed, the two actually found it a little hard not to glance at one another, even before they arrived at the club. Rob wasn’t quite sure why he’d decided to wear lifts, but something about having footwear that was akin to wearing heels was surprisingly comforting. He exited the taxi and helped Jenna out, and for a moment he studied her.
“I’m not imagining it, you really do look younger, Jenna!”
“I feel younger,” she said, grinning. “Let’s hit the bar, then the dance floor. This latina still has some fiery moves to teach a white guy like . . .”
He doesn’t look that white. More Asian than anything.
“Like?” Rob asked.
She shook her head, that familiar fog descending upon her mind. “Never mind. Let’s have an enjoyable night and see what dates we can find!”
The next two hours went splendidly for the pair, who continued to catch up after repeated escapades. They drank: Jenna as she hadn’t in years, and Rob with the eagerness of the young man he still thought he was. They also danced: the club was heavy with hit music and the vibe palpable. Jenna had never been a big dancer, but now that her muscles were only increasing and her general fitness with them, she continued to return, happily showing off her tighter body as she did so. Rob joined her. He had only ever danced with his girlfriend, but now he danced with Jenna, his chest jiggling with the motion, his rear too, and his longer hair shaking all about. It was positively freeing. When Man, I Feel Like a Woman began playing, the two of them sang out in their high voices.
This song is really vibing with me for whatever reason, Rob thought to himself. This is better than any weed, I swear.
Which was not to say that he didn’t want to take any, just that he was enjoying himself here far more.
“Not such a twig now!” Jenna laughed, her accented voice projecting an almost sexual confidence rather than its prior coarse tone.
“Not at all!” Rob laughed, swinging his hips about in time with the music. He’d drunk a little, enough to make him tipsy and happy - it didn’t take as much as before, thanks to his changes. “I’m feeling more built than ever! I could seriously dance the night away, ha!”
He still had that slightly goofy laugh, even with his feminised voice. It was the one his ex always made fun of, but Jenna just laughed along.
“You have such a laugh of character!” she shouted over the music. “It really works for you!”
“It does? I always thought . . . I never liked it much!”
“Mierda! Nonsense! We were both in relationships, and our partners were trash! Forget about them! We’ll find new partners! C’mon, let us dance like I’m young again and we’ll find new partners!”
The energy was rising in the room, an almost electric sensation passing between the two dancing figures. Rob forgot his failed relationship, even forgot the way his roommates had mocked him for it. All that mattered was that he was having fun with his friend, and that she was having fun too. They were freed from their past, and despite their initial intentions, neither had even tried to find company outside of each other. The few times one had gone to the bar or scanned the room for other attractive options, they had found themselves hardly in the mood and far more interested in dancing or drinking or exchanging anecdotes and stories together.
“I am having more fun than I ever had in two decades of marriage!” Jenna cried.
“I can’t say I’ve ever had that, but this is better than what went down with she-who-will-not-be-named!” Rob said, drawing ever closer to Jenna. “It’s too bad you aren’t a little younger, Jenna. I would have liked to have met you in your prime!”
“Go ahead, tiger!” Jenna said, tipsy and loving it. “This is my prime! I’m more in my prime every day, so enjoy it if you want it!”
Rob did want it. In that moment he realised he did.
Without so much as another thought, he took Jenna face in his hands and planted his lips upon hers. Her eyes went wide for a few moments, then she closed her eyes and embraced him in turn, returning his kiss and moaning gently into his mouth. The music began working to its crescendo, but all that mattered to these two were each other. They caressed one another’s forms, shifting their hips in time to the music, but they didn’t break the lock of their kiss, instead letting their tongues snake and dance in one another’s mouths as the ecstasy built and built and built.
Rob felt it first, that fiery energy racing through his system just as it had before. He recognised it from several previous exertions at the gym, but now it was his connection to Jenna and his choice to move on from his former relationship that stirred the move to an ever more ideal body. The urge to change rose up within him, and without fully understanding what was happening he accepted it, willing it to take over and flourish. Jenna also felt this rush, the need to move on and find something new, and in that moment she desired to blossom further, to have a new start as a strong, beautiful woman, free of baggage, free to do new things and no longer hide behind wit and sarcasm and instead revel in who she was.
Both of them accepted the gift that the New Life Gym had offered them, even if they were not fully aware of the entity responsible. And in that long, extended kiss, the next big transformation occurred. Rob’s skin continued to darken, any remaining blemishes disappearing entirely but for a beauty spot upon her right cheek. His hair fell down his shoulders, extending all the way down to his waist, all while his eyebrows thickened further, his nose broadened slighter, and his neck became slender. His body swelled in all the right places, subcutaneous fat extending across his thighs, his hips, his buttocks and waist. His breasts swelled, no longer hidden, and they became large, easily D-cups in size. His nipples were large and sensitive, tender to the caresses that he deeply desired upon them, and he found himself thrusting out his chest against Jenna, pressing his boobs against hers. In so many ways, he had gone from a skinny beanpole of a Caucasian man to a shorter and attractively thick Polynesian woman; stronger than ever, but with impressive curves and delightful deposits of fat obscuring the very real muscle that lay beneath.
Jenna barely noticed this, so lost was she in her own changes. She moaned, her voice taking on an increasingly sweet and sensual tone, still possessing her own fierceness but tamed by the reversal of age. That same de-aging struck the rest of her; she already looked like a woman in her early-to-mid thirties at the latest, but now her remaining wrinkles faded away, the nascent crow’s feet in her eyes smoothing over, her cheeks gaining a fullness to them that spoke of youth and joy and a lifetime yet to come. Her hair gained a new lustre, and her eyes seemed to grow, large and gorgeous upon her face to match her impressively large and glossy lips. In moments, she looked like an influencer beautician or would-be model, complete with carefully done eyelashes and pencilling upon her eyebrows.
The changes rippled down through the rest of her body. She became built, her abs developing far beyond what she could ever have imagined, and her shoulders looking like those of an Olympic female swimmer’s. Her bust expanded further, becoming ripe E-cups that only enhanced her dominant beauty. It was as if her aggressive, confident, and all-in demeanour had finally found form in literal strength, her beauty matching that raw power. Her thighs, once saggy and far too wobbly, were now packed with muscle, and yet none of this diminished the femininity she had so long been ashamed of due to her ugliness. Instead, it only enhanced it.
The two kissed again, passions flared by the changes. But in that exchange, and in the wandering hands that crept over each other’s forms, an awareness finally dimmed. Not even the power of the New Life Gym could keep the wool over their eyes any longer, and given that they were not in the gym currently, its grip was even looser. The pair parted their lips from one another, surprised by what they had done but not regretting it.
And that was when they noticed each other’s changes, and then their own.
“Holy shit, that was incredible,” Rob said, breathing heavily, his breasts rising and falling. Or were they hers? For despite the presence of a small manhood between her legs, it was hard not to think of herself as a her. “I can’t believe we just did that. I can’t believe I just did that.”
“Do you regret it?” Jenna asked.
“No, not at all! I - I wanted to do it.”
Jenna, for the first time in a long time, actually felt shy. “So did I, Rob. I didn’t expect I would want a young man like you, but if you like an older woman like me, then-”
They paused.
“An older woman like you,” Rob said, marvelling at how the woman was now clearly in her early twenties.
“A young man like yourself,” she replied, gazing into the eyes of a gorgeous Polynesian woman.
“Um, we weren’t slipped anything were we?” Rob asked. “Because it looks like you turned into a total Amazon, and I grew a pair of big tits.”
“No, I see it too! This isn’t your weed, is it?”
“I promise it’s not! I haven’t even tried acid in months! Oh shit, I think this might be real, Jenna!”
And just in time to be wonderfully and terribly appropriate, Panic at the Disco began to play.
***
Greg had been tempted to join Rob for a night on the town, but ultimately had decided against it. Catching up regularly with their little ‘gym family’ as they had taken to calling it had dredged up some deep feelings within the young man. The loss of his parents remained with him, often emerging at the strangest and inconvenient of times, and this was one of those periods.
So he decided to continue doing what had saved him in the first place; pump iron at the gym, and pump it hard. His body was yearning for it, the ache across his body demanding further transformation. Not that he noticed just how transformed he was already. His skin had taken on a light olive tone, and his face reconfigured to give a suggestion of South American heritage. His hair had remained blonde, but not only was it now down to his shoulders, but it had the suggestion of being dyed rather than natural in its colouring, with dirty-blonde roots that bordered on light brown barely visible. His figure had continued to shrink, much to his initial annoyance, but the weird part was that he was getting proud of how curvy and defined his body was getting, rather than purely an exercise in bodybuilding. In fact, it was the strangest thing, but his mind was starting to wander occasionally to implants, and how they might heighten his form.
Maybe just some for my chest, to make them bigger and rounder, he mused to himself, not even realising the implications of his statement. Perhaps a butt lift too. Lip fillers would complete the look. I don’t know why, they would just do it, I think.
He was starting to get a notion of why, however, when a familiar figure entered, wearing a set of tight black exercise shorts and tight black sports bra, both of which did a marvellous job of showing off her pale form.
“Hey there, big guy,” Abigail said, a look of amusement radiating from her expression.
“Still trying to, like, get b-bigger,” he groaned, lifting the heavy weights as he did his seated bicep curls.
“A shame, really,” she said, taking a position next to him and mimicking his routine, albeit with smaller weights. Her stance had a wonderful way of showing off her lovely bust. Her black hair with its purple streak was in a lovely ponytail, and Greg winced a little, wishing his own hair could look so lovely.
“Why’s that?” he grunted, again lifting the weights.
“I thought you were looking nice and slim, lately. Well, not slim. But not built like a brick fireplace either. You’ve got a cuteness to you, dare I say a sexiness.”
Greg nearly fumbled his form for a moment. He was trying not to look at Abigail’s ass; it was almost like she had twisted deliberately to show herself off to him in this way.
“Like, you think I look sexy?” Greg managed, trying to sound cool. His voice was squeakier than he remembered it being, but it was also sort of . . . nice?
“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Abigail mused. “Of course, you were also an asshole before. You know, about me being a chick, about me taking videos in the gym. Pretty misogynistic, don’t you think?”
Greg swallowed. His nipples were burning, stiffening, as if ready to grow further. His manhood wanted to retreat in the face of her words, and he was starting to think that might actually be a good thing.
“I wasn’t, like, meaning to-”
“Yes you were. I could have kicked you from the gym, you know. But I saw potential in you, Greg. I did a bit of research; you’ve been kicked from other gyms for how you act with women, but the weirdest thing is that it’s not the typical harassment. You’re always trying to comment on their form, sure, as you did with mine, but you mainly seem to not like them. Or . . . is it something else?”
Greg lifted the weights. God, they were so heavy at the moment. Or perhaps it was simply what he was grappling with thanks to her words.
“What - what do you, like, mean?”
Abigail dropped her weights loudly to the ground. She placed herself before him so that he was looking up at her divine, sexy goth figure, and placed her hands on her generous hips.
“I think you know, Greg.”
“I, like, don’t!” he said, even though emotions were already bubbling to the surface.
“Oh, really? You’re telling me you don’t know? That there was no reason you wanted those girls to be away from you? Wanted me away from you? Is it just a little possible that you sent them away not because you disliked them, or thought they were inappropriate, but because you were . . . jealous of them?”
Greg swallowed. No, he thought, it can’t be. I mean, I have those dreams. Those weird fantasies about being . . . but every guy has those! They’re, like, just standard shit and all that. Being an alpha male is all about pushing that shit down so you totes don’t get all feminine and weak and shit, or whatever.
“I - look, Abigail-”
She smirked. “Call me Abby. We’ve been working out long enough to be a bit more personal, right?”
Was she posing that way deliberately? Greg couldn’t tell, but it was doing funny things for him.
Oh God, her hips. Her figure. I want that figure. No, like, I don’t mean that. I mean I want her. I want her and I want to have a sexy figure like hers. Wait, no!
“I - I guess so,” he managed, voice just a little more squeaky.
“Then you can be honest with me. You can be up front. You don’t want to be a massive bodybuilder, that’s all just compensating, right? You want to be a woman. A fit one, maybe even a hot buff one. But you’ve always fantasised about your ideal body being that of a gorgeous lady, right?”
Greg’s breath quickened, and he found himself sweating. He swallowed several times in quick succession, as if a lump was caught in his throat.
“I - I’m just trying to shape my body into-”
“The perfect form, I know. But then why begrudge women doing the same and recording their workouts? Why get kicked out again and again when it’s clear to me that you don’t actually hate women?”
She knew down and, being bold, she his hands, helping him heft the weights a little.
“Admit, Greg,” she said. “What happens in the gym stays in the gym, and that goes for honest truths as well. You want to be like this, don’t you? You want to be like me.”
Greg was upon the same cliff edge as his friends. He had no idea that Jack had already changed earlier that day, or that Jenna and Rob were currently racing back to her house to figure out what was going on. He’d turned off his phone to focus on exercise, not knowing that it was currently blowing up with messages.
It also meant that what he said next, in a moment of total vulnerability, came without any other awareness of what was going on. He steadied the trembling in his lip, managed to look Abigail in her eyes just for a moment, then looked away.
“I, like, totally do,” he admitted. “I really want that.”
“Then take it,” Abigail replied. “And the gym will give it to you. You feel the energy, don’t you? The build up in your body?”
He did. He assumed it was just exercise aches and adrenaline, but it was something more.
“What - what is it?”
“It’s what you need, Greg. Go on, accept it, and it’ll make you what and who you’re supposed to be.”
Greg nearly walked away. He puffed out his now-soft chest, trying to act the part of the man as he stood up. But he didn’t loom over Abigail anymore, far from it. And he wasn’t being brave, he was terrified.
“I - I don’t think I’m strong enough to,” he said, the words scratchy in his throat.
Abigail smiled, and this time there was no smugness in it. She extended a hand.
“I’ll be right here, big guy. You can do this.”
Greg took a breath, then took her hand, then took a moment to close his eyes.
“I want this,” he said aloud, truly understanding for the first time that this was truly the case. It was enough for the energy that had built up within him to finally release.
“Ahhhh,” he breathed, a pleasurable calm coming over him. His body untensed, and his last resistances crumbled away. “Mhmm, I can f-feel it. It feels - ahh - so g-good!”
“Damn right it does,” Abigail said. “Just ride that wave, honey.”
Greg did. He gasped as his flesh began to twist and change. Something grew within him, shifting around his stomach, expanding even as his manhood retreated further, almost to the cusp of nonexistence. His waist pulled inwards, and his muscular rear took on an impressively rondure nature. At the same time, the man grunted as his hips flared wider, the very bones changing shape to grant him the kind of baby making hips he’d always found annoyance in women who showed them off. He understood now that it had merely been envy. Now he had nothing to be envious of.
“Oh f-fuck! It’s, like, so much!”
“Fuck yeah it is,” the goth proclaimed. “Let’s see those tits grow, babe!”
They did, surging forward to become impressive C-cups, if not full D’s in size. They were pert and full and rounded, jiggling beneath the shirt that Greg wore, which was now loose around the waist but tight upon his new chest. His nipples swelled larger, rubbing against the material and making him moan.
“Nghh . . . ahhh, it’s f-fucking, like, wonderful!”
“Fucking A, keep going! Keep changing! Don’t forget your face, doll.”
Greg didn’t. Now that he had accepted the person he wanted to be, the mental image he had long held off was crystal clear in his feminising mind. She would look deeply sexy, with permanently pouty, kissable lips, ones that would look great with bright red makeup. Her eyes would be dark, almost mysterious, with just a slight almond shape to them. Combined with her olive skin, aquiline nose, and thick eyebrows, as well as her lighter hairstyle, and she would appear to be a gorgeous blend of various ethnicities, a product of a loving melting pot. But such beauty would be tempered by the steel that was the rest of her body, one that would ripple with womanly muscle. She still wanted to be a bodybuilder, but in the form of a woman, one who could look drop dead sexy in a dress and dynamite powerful in a sports bra and workout pants. But she would be short, too. The need to be tall was gone, and in its place was a pure desire to also look . . . kinda cute.
“Mhmm, cute but sexy, sexy but powerful, powerful but cute,” Greg moaned, her tone taking on a rather attractive Brazilian accent. “I, like, totally want that. I want to be free.”
Free. Free as a woman. The person I’m meant to be.
“You will be,” Abigail said, grinning from ear to ear as Greg’s changes continued. Soon the other woman was even shorter than her, looking like a pint-sized powerhouse. Her hair had slithered down almost to her ass, but it was her face that was the true marvel: she looked beautiful. “Hell, I’m not sure you aren’t now. Honey, you look damn delicious! Fit as hell and cute to boot!”
Greg opened his eyes. Her eyes. She was a woman deep down, she understood that now. She had fought it for so long, trying to be the big alpha male, the toughest kid on the block. Now, she was no longer deluded. She was perky and happy and . . .
“Holy fuck,” she breathed, her new voice tinged with her new accent. “I look like a hot Brazilian chick!”
“I’m pretty sure you are!” Abigail announced with a laugh. “And not a bad one at that!”
Greg stared into her reflection on the New Life Gym’s mirrored wall, her breath rising and falling, causing her impressive bust to do much the same.
“I - I need to go!”
Greg turned and ran, much to Abigail’s surprise.
“Wait! Greg, wait!”
But even that name didn’t seem appropriate for the new woman. She could still feel her manhood between her legs, still sense just a few sharp edges and chiselled points - such as her jawline - that were in need of correcting. But she was a woman now, and she felt free.
It was also terrifying as shit.
She grabbed her phone as she fled the building. It had a lot of unread messages and missed calls. As she got into the car, Abigail still calling after her, she saw the contents of one.
Guys! Guise! Jenna and I are just totally changed!1!!1! I’m becoming a freakin woman. We all are, I think, except Jenna got super hot. SUPER HOT. For some reason we couldn’t notice the changes until now but we were changing the whole time! Call me or Jen now because this shit is whack! I’m smoking so much weed to compensate, we both are!!!11!1!!!
Abigail tapped the car window, spooking Greg.
“I can explain everything!” she called through the glass.
Greg bit his lip. That attraction, that desire to trust Abigail was still there.
“Then you’re coming with me,” he announced, his Brazilian accent as strong as his determination.
Abigail nodded and opened the passenger door.
“Shall I explain on the way?” she asked.
“You, like, damn well better. I feel so good but all my friends are changing! So you owe me an explanation about, like, all of this! Right down to me sounding like a total influencer or whatever.”
“Of course, I’ll tell you. You might even remember.”
Greg got the address from Rob’s messages and got the car moving onto the road.
This is the craziest shit, he thought. Just the craziest. So why don’t I feel bad?
“It’s the gym,” Abigail began. “It has a sort of power. It always has, in fact . . .”
Greg listened as she drove, taking it all in.
To Be Continued . . .
