The Abatement of Kyle Trinter, Chapter 17 (Patreon)

Chapter 17

Kyle hated how fast his heart was beating as he walked slowly down the darkened hallway towards the living room, which was bathed in bright morning sunshine.

PhewPhewPhewPhewPhewPhewPhew

He heard the deep and foreboding sound of quick, rapid breathing, and he knew that Martha was doing some kind of workout or warmup in preparation for him. Even though he was still in the hallway, he was sure that he could already smell the musky scent of her perfume, made all the more intense and intoxicating by her body heat…could he actually feel that too? Even from all the way back here, in the hallway!? Kyle wondered if he was truly starting to lose his mind, but he quickly managed to remind himself that he was just recovering from his strange conditioning under Martha’s wing, and that now, she was giving him an opportunity to “toughen up” before she let him go.

PhewPhewPhewPhewPhewPhewPhew

With these things in mind, he clenched his jaw slightly in determination, ignoring both the hunger in his stomach and the twinge in his cock, as he rounded the hallway opening and came out into the cheery brightness of Martha’s living room. His eyes snapped straight to her, and what he beheld did not ease the hunger in his stomach, or the pressure in his groin. Martha was lying parallel to the floor, performing a strenuous set of one-arm push-ups that had been going on, in rapid, staccato succession, at the rate of two reps every second, for as long as Kyle had opened his bedroom door. She was dressed in a pair of black spandex shorts that were hugging for dear life onto the immense curves of her thighs, hips, and ass. Kyle saw that she was wearing a pair of white tennis shoes…but, more than anything else, his eyes were drawn to her top, which was a tight white t-shirt that looked to have some black lettering on the front that, from her current position, Kyle couldn’t quite make out.

But it was what was under Martha’s t-shirt that had drawn Kyle’s attention – her mammoth breasts, which looked as big and juicy as ever, were pressing hard into the tight white t-shirt, making it seem like the shirt itself was on the verge of ripping. And as Martha descended in the midst of her pushups, her breasts were so enormous that they were squished outward, on either side of her body, between her chest and the floor, making them look even huger. Kyle couldn’t believe it; as much as he had fixated on Martha’s boobs before, he had never quite seen them squished like this, and his hunger seemed to double in his stomach. He could literally hear her milk sloshing around inside those massive mammaries…from across the room.

“There’s my little trainee!” Martha smiled brightly, averting her head up slightly as she continued to bust out her one-armed push-ups at the same insane rate, “Hold on there, I’ve just got forty more…then we can get started!”

PhewPhewPhewPhewPhewPhewPhew

It was incredible – even though she was just doing push-ups, Kyle could actually feel the hardwood floor bowing slightly beneath his feet. She was so heavy that even her sturdy floors had trouble withstanding her weight. Kyle was now, in essence, forced to stand there and watch as Martha banged out the remainder of her set, taking her whole colossal figure in as he helplessly watched her thick curves bounce and jiggle with her movements. But, of course, more than anything, he was forced to watch those megalithic breasts go SquishSquishSquish with astonishing rapidity, and Kyle was so overwhelmed by the show of strength, and the sensory overload of watching her body, that he tried to distract himself by staring out of the open window. It really was a beautiful day, with a clear blue sky, and no clouds in sight.

‘I’ve got this,’ he breathed to himself, bouncing nervously up and down on his toes as he tried to ignore the fact that the bulge of his erection was clearly visible through his tight training shorts. ‘It’s a really nice day, and this is the first day of my training…of getting back out into the normal world. I should be thankful that Martha’s helping me…really, I should…and I need to show her that I can be a man and handle myself.’

In the midst of this silent pep talk, Kyle suddenly registered that he no longer heard Martha’s short, forceful exhales, and that he wasn’t feeling the floor bowing beneath his feet. He blinked at the sun coming in through the living room window, his heart skipping a beat, and then turned around…and found himself staring straight into a series of cartoonishly stretched-out black letters on a white background…Martha’s t-shirt…she had stood up and was standing there with her hands on her hips, looming over him as she stood very close to his body. Kyle stared at the stretched black letters, hardly understanding that they were letters at all, since all he could register right now was the alluring warmth and intoxicating, musky aroma that was coming off her body. He could literally feel the air trembling with the vibrations of her deep breaths. Everything about her was gigantic – everything – from her massive hands on her thick, wide hips, to the solid, sturdy muscle of her impressive forearms accentuated by her big silver bracelets, to the immense pillars of her colossal thighs stretching her black yoga pants to the limit. And those breasts…those huge, gigantic, fleshy globes…they had to each be at least two or three times the size of his head. And inside them…Kyle swallowed, his throat dry…her milk…he could smell it.

“Aww, don’t be too intimidated by what it says,” Martha chuckled down at him, her upper body jiggling in beguiling humor, “It’s just a fun little joke, after all!”

“What it…says?” Kyle asked, confused, but then quickly understood that Martha was talking about the letters on her t-shirt. He had been too focused on everything else to even process them as words. But now that Martha had called attention to them, he re-focused his eyes and read, with difficulty, the words that were absurdly stretched across her chest:

“Personal Trainer
[noun]
One Who Gets Pleasure Inflicting Pain on Others”

“Oh…eheh…” Kyle managed to say, trying to smile, but not quite able to as his mind flashed back to Martha nearly pummeling Ted to death. A cold fear surged within him, his eyes climbing up to her face, where her dark, flashing eyes met his and held them there in the midst of her smile. Kyle felt his fear diminish slightly. That smile…it was different…it was actually warm and…loving!?

“I got this shirt yeeeears ago,” Martha explained cheerfully, extending one of her huge, long, clawed fingers along the stretched-out words (Kyle noticed that she had painted her nails white…a completely different color for her), “Just as a joke when I was working in the…well, when I was working a different job.” She started laughing. “As you can see, I’ve gotten juuuuust a little bigger since then!”

It suddenly occurred to Kyle that he actually had no idea what Martha did for a living. He had never seen her go into work, or talk about her job, or even work from home. He could feel himself becoming intrigued when she had hinted at a past job – what was Martha like, working at…a job!?

“So you were…uh…you were smaller?” Kyle asked blankly, feeling like he had to keep the conversation going.

“Hey! There’s no need to rub it in!” Martha responded instantly, feigning indignation as she crossed her thick strong forearms across her chest, squishing her breast up against her powerful torso. But even her fake, playful outrage was enough to make Kyle take a step backwards.

“It’s not my fault that women put on a few pounds when they get to be middle-aged!” Martha continued, still clearly trying to play up her faux indignation, before she paused and lifted up her arms, flexing them in a striking display of size and strength. Kyle cowered beneath her, staring up in awe at the massive biceps and forearms being flexed high above his head. It was true, Martha certainly wasn’t “lean,” and Kyle found himself wondering what on earth Martha had looked like when she was 15 or 20 years younger…and, of course, none of this helped the erection pressing into the front of his shorts. But even though there was some added “padding” to her figure, the truth could not be concealed: Martha was an absolute unit, and the size of her muscles was plain to see.

“I still think I’ve got it, though,” Martha grinned, turning her head right to left as she admired her biceps, before fixing her dark, penetrating eyes down on Kyle. “Don’t you?”

He nodded mutely, not knowing what else to say.

“Well that’s good,” Martha nodded, lowering her arms, the big silver bracelets jingling as she moved, “Because it’s important that my little trainee has a healthy respect for his personal trainer. How else am I going to help you reach your ultimate goal?”

Kyle blinked up at her, apparently not reacting quickly enough, because Martha turned her head slightly to the side, raising her eyebrows as she kept her gaze fixed on him.

“You…DO have a goal,” she prompted meaningfully, “Don’t you…Kyle?”

Just hearing Martha use his real name like that made Kyle excited, and he remembered what was actually going on here. He nodded vigorously, causing Martha to turn her face up in a warm smile.

“Mmmm good,” she cooed, bending at the waist as she brought her face down, down, down, until it was even with his, with only inches separating them. Kyle could smell her warm, sweet breath as it washed over him. “I want to hear you say it, Kyle. What’s your goal?”

“M-My goal…” he stammered, trying hard to speak with conviction and force, before shutting his eyes, swallowing, and then looking Martha square in the eye, starting over again as he spoke in a loud, clear voice:

“My goal is to get stronger and…and tougher, so that I can go out into the world and start a…life, an ADULT life, without having people, uhm…without having other people boss me around!”

His voice had grown steadily in confidence as he spoke, and he finished off his declaration on a crescendo, so that his voice actually echoed off the walls. This was by far the loudest and most confidently he had ever spoken directly to Martha, and she reacted by smiling even broader, her eyes going wide in shining approval.

“Yes!!” she intoned encouragingly, nodding her head up and down with her huge face so close to his, “That’s IT, Kyle! That’s EXACTLY it! THAT’S the spirit I want from you!”

She straightened back up, putting her hands back on her hips once again as Kyle buzzed from her praise.

“Because, you know, this isn’t going to be easy,” Martha continued, her eyes going slowly and deliberately over his body, “Since you’re suuuuch a small, slight little thing right now. But I’ve got you for two weeks Kyle. That’s it. Two weeks. Two weeks to turn you from this unbearably cute, scrawny, timid little sweetheart into a tough, strong, assertive young man, who knows how to stand up for himself, and who won’t let ANYONE walk all over him. I think you can do it, Kyle. In fact, I know you can. Do you think you can do it?”

“Y-Yes,” Kyle nodded, inwardly wincing that he was still unable to speak around Martha without stuttering.

“I’m sorry,” Martha quipped, cocking her head to the side as she brought her hand up to her ear, “I didn’t quite catch that. I asked, do you THINK you can DO it!?”

“YES!” cried Kyle, nodding his head energetically in response.

“Good!” grinned Martha happily, evidently enjoying the new energy that Kyle was displaying. “That’s the confidence I want to see. That’s all I ask, Kyle – heheh, I mean, I know that you’re never going to be as big or strong as ME…but you don’t have to look like this to be able to stand up for yourself, right?”

“Right,” Kyle smiled, feeling the warmth of Martha’s positivity soaking through him.

“Mmmm all right then,” Martha said, suddenly clapping her hands, “Let’s get to work!”

She turned and walked over to the coffee table, reaching down to unlatch a black case on top of it that Kyle was just noticing now. He had to fight through a strange urge that had suddenly come up from within him, a kind of desperate sadness that was almost sickening – usually, by this time in the morning, Martha would have fed him some milk, and caressed him, and maybe even sucked his cock and swallowed his cum. But now that she was treating him like a “normal” person, none of that was happening anymore. The sinking feeling inside him was surprising…and intense. He missed all that stuff. But he inwardly recoiled at this feeling, determined to harden himself and re-condition his mind and body to be an adult.

“We’ll start with something small,” Martha declared, opening the case and beckoning Kyle to come closer. “Nothing too crazy in the beginning…”

Kyle approached, his heart beating way too fast for the occasion, and looked down into the open case. His eyes fell on a colorful assortment of hand grippers – six to be exact – ranging in color, left to right, from pink, to orange, red, green, blue, and black. A sense of relief washed over him as his eyes went over the grippers. This didn’t seem so bad, after all.

“Now don’t breathe too easily,” Martha warned, a tinge of knowing humor in her voice as she picked up the pink gripper. Holding it up to Kyle’s face, she pressed the two metal bars together easily, using only her thumb and forefinger. Kyle didn’t even see the muscles on her forearm contract; she appeared to be making no effort whatsoever.

“That may look easy enough to you,” she chuckled, opening and closing the pink gripper over and over with her two fingers, “But here…why don’t you give it a shot?”

She handed the gripper to Kyle, and he braced himself, trying to flex his hand and pull the two metal ends together. But he could barely make them budge. Shocked at how weak he appeared to be, Kyle set his teeth and tried again. This time he got the two handles a bit closer together, but not by much. He tried a couple more times and then relented, his forearm burning as he winced in pain.

“See?” Martha intoned mildly, a touch of gentle care in her voice as she smiled down at him, “Not so easy as it looks, huh?” She picked up the orange and red grippers in each hand and squeezed them together easily, opening and closing them over and over as Kyle marveled at the cords of muscle flexing and relaxing in her forearms. “And the pink one is by far the easiest one of these – it just keeps on getting harder and harder, the higher up you go!”

She put the orange and red grippers down and picked up the green and blue ones, working them over and over in much the same way as the first two, still apparently without any effort.

“Now I don’t know about green and blue,” Martha continued, over the steady clink of the grippers pressing together, “But I DO know, in two week’s time, that we can definitely get you working over the pink, the orange…and maaaaybe even the red one. It’s not going to be easy, Kyle, but that’s the whole point. The outside world isn’t easy, either, and I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you. No, I’m going to toughen you up. How about it, Kyle? Are you game?”

“Yeah…” he nodded, but then, hating how small his voice sounded compared to Martha’s, he repeated “Yeah!” in a much stronger, more assured tone. She smiled approvingly.

“Mmm, that’s exactly what I want from you, Kyle,” she intoned meaningfully, setting down the green and blue grippers. “I can’t do this for you. I can encourage you, and push you, and believe in you completely, but when it really comes down to it, it’s gotta be YOU who decides to push through the adversity and come out on top.”

Kyle nodded, not knowing what else to say, and his eyes again went over Martha’s huge, powerful body standing there before him, in all its 6’7 320-pound glory, and, for the first time he could remember, he actually managed to shut out his helpless lust for her to dominate him, his submissive longing for her to manhandle him, and his ravenous hunger for her to feed him. It was incredible; just seeing her standing there, with her gorgeous, dark eyes flashing down at him with genuine belief and energy, Kyle truly did start to believe in himself. If Martha believed in him, what did it matter that other people didn’t? What did it matter that they might say that he was too short or too skinny or too timid? SHE could dominate them all effortlessly – she was bigger and stronger than ALL of them, and SHE believed in him.

Kyle began to feel himself swelling with enthusiasm as a wide smile spread across his face. He couldn’t wait to get started with his training. But then, something pricked in his mind, and his eyes suddenly were drawn to the black gripper in the far end of the case.

“So that one…the black one,” he said, pointing at it, “I’m never going to be able to pull it? That’s the hardest one, right?”

Martha’s face abruptly grew serious, and she silently reached down and brought out the black gripper, bracing it in her huge hand as the silver bracelets jingle on her powerful wrist. She held the gripper up to his face.

“This is the Tetting Hercules gripper,” she declared, her voice deadpan and deep, without any hint of her previous humor. “With an RGC rating of 295 pounds. Most olympians can’t move it.”

She squeezed the black bars together…and for the first time, Kyle actually saw her hand tremble, as the cords of muscle on her mighty forearm flexed and bulged. Surprised, he looked up to her face, and saw that the muscles of her jaw were set; her lip curled, and Kyle could see that her teeth were clenched.

“And this is the first lesson of the day, Kyle,” Martha breathed, grinding the black bars of the gripper against each other, just to show how, despite the difficulty, she had overwhelmingly mastered the contraption, “I am your trainer, but you should NOT, under any circumstances, compare yourself to me.”

She suddenly swooped down with her free hand, swiping Kyle up off the floor, and proceeded to carry him around her living room, her huge breast pressing into his body as her massive hand snaked up around his buttocks, easily supporting him against her giant arm as she continued grinding the black bars of the gripper together.

“You’ll never be my physical equal, Kyle,” Martha continued, her voice matter-of-fact, “NEVER…and that’s fine! The point of your training is NOT to get you to MY level.”

Tossing the black gripper back into the case, Martha extended out her hand for Kyle, spreading her fingers and nodding to him silently. Kyle knew what she wanted from him and, with his cock back to twinging in his pants, he held out his hand to hers. He shuddered with timid pleasure as he felt the huge warmth of her hand against his. The comparison was absolutely ridiculous. The tips of his fingers didn’t even come up to her middle knuckles. Her giant palm nearly spanned the size of his entire hand, fingers and all…and Kyle saw that her pinkie finger alone was far longer, wider, and thicker than his middle finger. Her long, sharp white nails only intensified the absurdity of the comparison, and, just like that, Kyle’s heart was hammering away again in his chest, as a cold sweat began to break out across his forehead. He wanted her to take him, to dominate him, to make him her little baby again.

“You’ll never be on my level, Kyle,” Martha said softly, almost whispering in his ear as they both marveled at the hand comparison. He could feel her other hand gently squeezing his buttocks, not in a sexual way, but rather in a kind, encouraging way, in a way that made him pay extra attention to her words. “And that’s okay. You don’t need to be on my level to defend yourself against regular people. But it certainly helps to have someone like me as your trainer, right?”

Kyle nodded, looking up towards Martha’s face, and he was relieved to see her break into a smile again. All those flooding feelings of submissive desire began to draw back, and he felt a renewed determination and desire to play his part, to put in the work, to make Martha proud.

“I…uhm…th-thank you…thank you…Martha,” Kyle managed to say, his voice suddenly quivering with emotion. She was doing so much for him, really. She was going to make him a man again.

“Aww, it’s the least I can do, Kyle,” Martha replied brightly, bouncing him a few times in her arm before setting him back down on her hardwood floor. She cracked the knuckles of her giant hands and then thrust her arms upward, striking an immensely impressive double-biceps pose as she towered over Kyle, her bright smile flashing down at him.

“So how about it?” she challenged, “You ready to really get started?”

Kyle nodded, and with a smile of his own, he struck his own double-biceps pose in response, feeling a bit ridiculous, but somehow still empowered by his colossal trainer.

“Let’s do it!” he exclaimed energetically. Martha paused for a moment, her nostrils flaring, and for an instant, Kyle thought he caught a look of fierce hunger in her eyes. But the next second it all passed, and she was clapping her hands encouragingly.

“All right, aaaaall right, excellent!” she chanted. “Now we’ll start with the pink gripper, four sets of five half-squeezes each…we’ll start slow and build up from there!”

And they did. That first day of “training” was definitely the hardest for Kyle, and by the end of their first session, his hands and forearms were completely worn out. But, with Martha’s steady encouragement, by the end of the third day he was actually able to close the pink gripper completely with his right hand, a tremendous achievement that earned him a beaming smile from Martha, in addition to a body-jarring clap on the back. The rest of the first week proceeded more or less in this same exact cadence, with Kyle’s initial workouts being extremely difficult, but becoming easier and easier with time.

Martha ran the gamut on his body – she put him through arm curls, shoulder raises, dips, and pull-ups (and by the end of the first week, Kyle could do two whole pull-ups!). She made him do body-weight squats until his legs trembled; she made him perform calf-raises until he simply couldn’t do another rep. She made him do push-ups, getting down near the floor with him, her head turned sideways as she barked encouragement at him…until his chest sank to the floor. She made him do set after set of sit-ups, holding his feet to the floor with her huge hands, bracing the weight of her arms easily against that of his entire body, until his core felt like it was on fire. And all the time, she only encouraged him – she never put him down, or shouted abuse, or teased him, or made him feel ashamed that he couldn’t complete a rep. Instead, she kept a positive outlook, though taking care to keep the pressure on him through each workout.

“I’m only hard on you because I believe in you,” she would say again and again as Kyle fought for breath, his muscles exhausted at the end of the day, as Martha comforted him on her lap, bouncing him steadily on her knee to get his blood flowing. “I know it hurts now, Kyle, but remember, this is all to toughen you up. You wanna get tough, right?”

“Yes…!” Kyle would answer, out of breath, nodding his head forcefully. “I do! And I’m…I’m gonna do it! I’m gonna push through!”

“Mmmm, of course you are,” Martha would hum supportively. “And every day, every workout, every rep, you’re one step closer.”

By the end of the first week, Kyle was actually thinking more about his workout progress than he was about how much he missed Martha’s domination. Of course, the errant thought would pop into his head, but he truly was conditioning himself, both mentally and physically, to be an adult again. The harder he worked, the better he felt, and he was starting to see it in his body. His muscles were developing, his appetite for real food had doubled, and, more than anything else, he felt an inexorable sense of positivity and purpose beginning to take hold in his mind. He was really doing it – and, with Martha’s help, he was one week away from rejoining the outside world as an adult once more.

What Kyle hadn’t noticed, though – and, really, who would notice – was that all throughout the week, there had been a nondescript car parked across the street. If someone had looked closer, they would have noticed that this car had rental license plates, and that its windows were obscured by black curtains. And then, if someone had peered even closer, they might have noticed, between the passenger seat curtains, the glint of the sun reflecting off a pair of binoculars that were aimed straight at Martha’s living room window, or even the golden glimmer of blond hair that fell over one of the lenses.