First One Free (Patreon)

"Exceed your widest dreams," the spam had said. It was a cheesy sales pitch pun from some local trainer. Try one PT session for free. It had stuck in Jordan's mind all morning though. Apparently there is a real advertising strategy to sneak spelling mistakes into ad copy to make people read the text slower and remember it better. He didn't think the amateurish spam had been quite so calculating, but the effect was the same nevertheless. He had thought of starting to exercise, and a free PT session might be just what he needed, so in the post-lunch lull he replied to the e-mail and was pleasantly surprised to quickly receive a response with suggested time slots. He had kind of expected it to be a scam. All the time slots were for four hours as well, so way more than any of the other offers he'd seen. Was it even effective to train for that long? Well, Wednesday 4pm to 8pm he would know.

The guy, Gary, an athletic but not crazy built man in his late thirties met him outside of the gym and walked him in through the front desk. The super-blond, super-tanned girl waved them through. He showed Jordan the locker room and handed him a shaker with opaque contents. "You're gonna need all of it," he said with a smile. Jordan emptied the shaker, changed into his workout clothes, and joined the trainer in the exercise room.

What followed was the most intense training he'd ever had. It was low intensity, but relentless. The guy had him do the same exercise over and over again with very light weights. They were basically going from machine to machine. After two hours he was handed another shaker, this time with a translucent red liquid that tested like synthetic strawberry. "Electrolytes" Gary had told him. He felt like he was running on fumes when finally Gary told him how proud he was of the work Jordan had put in. There was still one hour left of the time, and Gary explained that one very overlooked part of proper exercise was to properly stretch and relax the muscles after a workout, so they recovered as quickly as possible and increased in strength and volume as much as possible.

They went into a small side room with a massage bed where Gary slowly and methodically worked on Jordan's body with some kind of soothing oil. It felt heavenly on his sore muscles. Gary told him he would feel more soreness the coming days, but it was just natural while the body built muscle mass. While massaging he gave Jordan some easy tips on post-workout care, basically drink a lot, and went through some rudimentary dietary recommendations, all of which Jordan thought he would never do.

As they were getting close to part ways, Jordan was bracing himself for the inevitable sales pitch. $1000 per month or whatever the going rate for a PT was. There are only so many hours per day for them to sell after all. He almost felt robbed of not having to use any of the scenarios for wiggling out of any commitment that he had run through his head the night before. "Just email me if you have any more questions," he said. Not until Jordan had already showered and left did he consider that perhaps Gary was working for the gym somehow. Get people in for a killer session and then have them return, but shouldn't there be some follow-up then too? He was going to follow the hydration advice after all, he thought as he was heading home. He was incredibly thirsty, which wasn't a surprise after such a workout. Perhaps even buy a case of isotonic bottles as Gary had suggested?

Jordan was in pain as he woke up early morning the day after. He'd expected to be sore, but this was worse than he had ever experienced before, and he spent some time contemplating sleeping in. After minutes of tossing and turning he decided it was not going to happen, and perhaps a shower would better ease his angry muscles. Immediately getting up he realized what a transformation he had gone through during the night. His belly which had been slowly expanding since graduation was gone and his chest looked a little bit more like pecs than boobs. His arms looked about the same as yesterday, but when he moved and flexed them the difference was obvious. The shoulders looked more pronounced as well, perhaps more from posture than more muscles, but the change was obvious there too. He was shocked how one session could make such a big impact, and in just one day. Maybe he would follow the diet suggestions. This was close to his dream body that a few boring dishes and some crunches would nudge him that little extra step to visible abs and arm definition. Besides, he was starving.

It was impossible to concentrate on the work because of his constant low-level discomfort. Whenever he sat still for just a few minutes he felt stiff and as soon as he moved he felt sore. Only halfway to lunch he was starving again and raided the office kitchen's snack bar for trail mix and energy bars. He was hot too. He imagined all the worker cells being busy repairing all the muscle damage from the workout. But it meant that his normal cup of coffee wasn't anywhere near enough and he ended up with a water pitcher and a glass on his office table that he kept refilling.

For lunch, still hungry, he had plenty of helpings from a China buffet. He tried to think about the advice he had gotten from Gary on chicken, broccoli, and rice, but in the end he got plenty from all the dishes. By half past two he decided he needed to leave early and rest up at home. The feeling of burning hot had just gotten worse and he felt clammy from sweating. Perhaps he had the flu? That would explain a lot, the body aches, the slight fever. On the way home he bought a big four cheeses pizza and plenty of isotonic drinks, devoured it as soon as he got inside, and promptly crashed in bed for a nap.

It was dark as Joran woke up in agony. As he reached for the lamp switch he heard the sound of fabric tearing. He froze with his hand on the switch after he had flipped it, staring a the alien arm controlling the bedside light. It was massive, even in this stretched-out form, with finger-sized veins snaking up the tanned skin. He slowly drew his arm back, shocking himself with the size of the bicep as the arm bent. His mind raced with thoughts. Is this a fever dream? Don't think so. How did this happen? Don't know. Is it even possible? Sure looks like it. What does the rest of the body look like? What will the guys at the office say? What about mum? Tanning while sleeping?

He lept to his feet to the sound of more clothes ripping apart and stumbled over to his dressing mirror. Why his shirt wasn't holding up was immediately obvious. His shoulders were inches wider, as were his chest and his arms. His trousers were visibly straining from the size of his legs as well, and probably ripped apart on the back.

Getting out of the clothes turned out to be complicated. Where the seams hadn't given up the fabric was straining aginst his muscles, hugging his body. His attempts to undress were also hampered by him suddenly not being able to reach everywhere. His muscles had gotten bigger everywhere, but he or his arms hadn't gotten longer. He gave up and used some scissors to undress, and then cut off the arms of a T-shirt to get something on his upper body that fit. Just as he was about to put it on he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and for a split second thought someone else was in the room with him. Just a day ago he was considering getting visible abs, and now he had ones big enough to show through a tight sweatshirt.

He drove to a 24/7 supermarket wearing just the cut-off T-shirt and a pair of basket shorts to get some real clothes, then, having changed in the bathroom he went to the gym just as they opened. It was the same girl at the front desk as when he and Gary were there. She obviously didn't recognize him, but to his surprise she told him Gary didn't work there. She was at first hesitant to talk about any other customers, but must have decided to treat Jordan as "one of them" given his pro-body builder physique and said a guy had paid for two people including access to a treatment room. She hadn't seen him neither before nor since.