Weight Lifting (Iris and Sam Part 2) (Patreon)

 It’s a well-known phenomenon that the weight area of the average gym is a very intimidating place. Iris had experienced the anxious conflict between wanting to finish a workout and the fear of being judged by heavily muscled, sweaty men in muscle tees hogging all the machines many times. She was no gym rat, but exercise made her feel good, and most weeks she hit the gym three or four times. Gym rituals were familiar to her. 

Especially the discomfort of the weight area. She had started going to her last gym because it boasted what had, at the time, seemed like the best possible gym experience. It had an enormous lap pool, excellent wi-fi, massage chairs, every workout machine known to mankind, and dozens of classes available on any given day. The first few weeks, Iris had finally gotten to take a Zumba class for the first time. She popped into the intermediate yoga class several times, too, and loved the spin classes. Iris would happily crank out her cardio alongside dozens of other women, her workout playlist piping through her headphones. 

But she couldn’t seem to make it into the weight training area. Every time she walked in, she was the only woman. While no one seemed to be outright glaring at her, none of them seemed particularly happy she was there. They seemed to take longer on the machines, forcing her to either wait obscenely long times or finally give up and return to doing cardio. No matter what time she showed up, she ran into the same attitudes, the same gatekeeping. It didn’t take her much longer to find another gym. 

And here she was. She had toured this new gym, Apex, before joining. It was much simpler than her last one, and clearly heavily geared toward very intense fitness types. Lots of body builders, lots of athletes. She wasn’t sure it was entirely right for her, but she loved how integrated all of the strength training areas were. It felt like a place where she could come in, do her whole workout, and head out. Easy. Focused. No extra frills or distractions.

But the nervousness remained. She was on the elliptical, heart pounding, pushing hard, trying to fight off her fear. She knew it would be okay, but… what if it wasn’t? 

She forced herself off the elliptical and picked up her water bottle with an index card dangling off of it with her routine for the day. Today was arms. She walked straight to the machine that she needed, intending to begin with triceps. She searched for the attachment she needed, and as she did her eyes landed on… him. The guy she had watched eat enough food to incapacitate a table of people. Benching 200 pounds. Almost twice her weight. For eight reps. Iris watched, mesmerized, as his cheeks reddened with each rep. His shirt had ridden up along his belly, and she could hardly contain her pleasure at the ripples and jiggles going through him. He finished and sat up, shirt slipping back down and belly nestling between his spread thighs. Iris immediately found the grip she needed at attached it to the nearest cable, setting up the amount of weight she wanted and trying not to regret her gym choices. 

She hadn’t seen her new favorite fat boy since she had watched him gorge himself on enough ice cream to satisfy a large family. And now here he was, at the gym of all places. She could never have imagined that under all that plush would be someone who came to a no-frills gym, seemingly regularly. He exchanged familiar-looking hellos with other gym-goers and seemed quite comfortable, and massively strong. While she was working with the dumbbells, she watched him working on leg presses. Four hundred pounds of leg presses. Again, his face was reddening. He was sweating. (She tried not to imagine the taste of salty workout kisses and failed.) And yet, he was doing it. Kicking ass on every machine, at every exercise, despite being one of the largest people in the entire gym. He looked like he was pushing himself hard and loving every second of it. Iris was deeply intrigued.

While she was working on her ab workouts, allowing her arms to rest between sets, she lost him. She got up to finish the last part of her arm workout—lat pull-downs. She heard a throat clear behind her and turned. It was him. He smiled at her and gestured towards the machine. “Your form is a little off.” His voice was soft, but each word was enunciated perfectly, like he was taking his time with each one.

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Do you mind if I—?”

“No, no, go right ahead.” 

She tried not to squeak as his hands (all pudge on the surface, all strength beneath) shifted her arms and shoulders, directed her posture. The light brushes of his fingers against her skin gave her goosebumps.

“Try that.” It was all she could do not to shiver. She tried to focus on counting reps and not on the fact that she wished she had worn more than a sports bra and a flimsy workout top. She wondered if he found her appealing. She wondered if he was helping her because she was new and wanted to help, or if he had noticed her. Oh my god, what if he saw me staring earlier? She refocused on reps. Five. Six. Seven. What if he recognizes me from the restaurant? Iris barely finished counting to twelve.

“How did that feel?”

“Much better. I could feel it a lot more significantly in the places where I was meant to.”

He pointed towards a mirror on the wall. “Okay, so look at your form right now. See how your back is positioned?” He gently touched her back. She was hyper-aware of how damp and sweaty she was. There was no way he felt any attraction to her in this state. And yet… his fingers seemed to linger a bit on her bare shoulders. “And your arms are right at that angle? You want it to look just like this every time.” She nodded, turned around, smiled at him. God, he was so cute. Soft black hair, a bit long—like if he were just a bit thinner he’d be on the cover of GQ sometime soon.

“Thank you for your help.” She turned a bit and extended a slightly sweaty palm. “Iris James. It’s great to meet you.” 

He smiled, sincere and perhaps a bit playful. “Sam Yamautchi. It’s good to see a new face here. Feel free to ask anyone for help if you need it. We’re a little family here. No form goes uncorrected.” Iris nodded. He has a name! She was fluttery inside. They were only inches apart and she could feel the warmth of his body radiating. She was dying to bury her face in his doughy stomach, wondering how far she could go before hitting what she had to assume were some rock hard abs somewhere in there. 

Before she could get too dreamy, she cleared her throat and smiled a bit. “Well, I better get back to it. I have to finish up this set.”

“Of course. I’m just finishing up. I’m sure I’ll see you around, though. Nice meeting you, Iris.”

He got onto the treadmill directly behind her. And since she had a mirror right in front of her, she got to spend her last few reps watching Sam bounce and jiggle in ways so tantalizing she was disappointed she hadn’t brought a spare pair of underwear with her.

///

Sam watched her walk towards the stationary bikes. The way her fitted Lululemon pants hugged her generous and noticeably firm backside was setting off all kinds of positive signals. She looked gorgeous in them, first of all, and they hid absolutely nothing. But he was most interested in the fact fact that they were a pricey brand; it showed that she had some level of dedication to her gym time. 

He sped up the treadmill and increased the incline. Twenty more minutes of cardio to go. He pushed himself. Anyone watching would have been astonished by the way he somehow managed to keep going when he looked as soft as he did. He was finishing up his second mile seventeen minutes in. Not marathon-winning speed, sure, but he wasn’t here for that. He was here for bulk. For testing his mettle with weights and seeing how much stronger and bigger he could make himself. He was here for a challenge.

He thought of Iris and smirked to himself. He had a feeling Iris would not be much of a challenge. If he was right, she was the girl from the restaurant. She looked a little different without makeup and with her hair tied back, but he was pretty sure it was her. Now, Sam had had his fair share of stares while he ate meals. Usually they were unkind—people assuming they knew something about him, about why he was eating, about how he spent his life, looking on with disgust. But some stares were admiring. No one had ever seemed quite so enamored as Iris had been, though. Sam had somehow never managed to lock eyes with her during his meal at the diner, but he had felt her eyes on him from the moment she’d sat down. It had made the meal all the more thrilling. His belly rounding out as he satisfied all his cravings from the past few months, the glorious heaviness of it all, and someone beautiful practically salivating over watching him enjoy himself? It had been a dream.

He finished his cardio and climbed off the treadmill. He was ready to go home, fix himself a protein shake, and take a long, hot shower while he planned out what he was going to have for dinner.

///

Iris slowly became a well-recognized face at Apex. She could greet people by name and it had become a comfortable place for her. It was nice to have found a gym that suited her.

It was, apparently, a gym that suited Sam even better. He came every evening. Iris almost couldn’t believe it, but no matter what day she came, if she arrived after 6 PM, Sam was guaranteed to be there, pumping iron. She was amazed, a bit confused, and more than a little dismayed. He didn’t seem to be losing any of his softness, but wasn’t that why people went to the gym? Especially people who spent multiple hours there every day? Of course, it was his body. But a little part of her felt like it was a bit of a waste to have a man with an appetite like Sam’s burning off thousands of calories a day in a gym. 

They had more little encounters as he helped her correct her form. She asked him for advice on building workout regimens, and he had lots of good ideas. He asked what her goals were and she would shrug and say she was mostly in it for a good jolt of endorphins. He liked that answer. The workouts he suggested for her were tough, but never wholly outside of her abilities. And she liked trying what he suggested. This was something he clearly knew a vast amount about. They would often stand outside the doors to the locker rooms, discussing their progress and how they were feeling. Iris noted after a time that he never talked about his weight or a desire to become more trim. She hoped she wasn’t just imagining it.

One evening, she finally got up the chutzpah to actually ask him out. It was about three months after she had joined Apex, and she was nervous but ready. He looked as plush as he had on that first day at the diner, and in the time that they had known each other, he had become a friend. She was jogging on the treadmill while he walked past her, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel as he headed to the locker rooms. She waved her arm and smiled at him. He noticed, then turned and walked towards her with an expectant look. She felt a little queasy but it was time to take the plunge. While still jogging, she asked, “What are you doing on Saturday?” The jogging hid the fact that her breathlessness was caused entirely by her nervousness. He looked faintly surprised at the question, and then his face broke into a grin.

“Saturday is my cheat day.” Iris tried not to let her eyes widen. Was that what was happening when he was at the diner? “I was planning on a day in.”

“Well… would you mind making it a day out? With me?” She bit her lip.

“So long as we can go where there’s food, and lots of it. I haven’t had a cheat day in months and I don’t think I could bear to put it off another day.” He had a twinkle in his eye as he said this. Iris felt, as she had many times, that he knew more about her than he would ever say.

“Where did you have in mind?”

“I wanted to start off at Éclair’s. I’ve been fighting a donut craving for so long. Do you want to meet up there?” 

Iris could hardly contain herself. “That sounds great. We can meet at 10.”

“I was thinking 8. It’s early, but I had big plans for the day.” There was that twinkle again, paired with a knowing grin. Iris tried not to read too much into it. If she did, she might collapse with delight. 

“Eight, then. Bright and early. I’ll see you there.” Sam headed to the locker room and Iris continued jogging, running with a feeling like she had just won a big, fat prize.