Trainer Samir (Patreon)

I follow the receptionist down another flight of stairs. I've seen a few really odd and inventive layouts in low cost hotels, predominantly in buildings converted to hotels, but this would have to take the prize. I suspect this "spa" is just a hot tub in an old cellar room, but it was included in the room rate. There were no signs for how to get to it though, and now the receptionist has led me two floors below ground. The walls here are just white painted rough concrete with imprints from the wood it was poured into, the floor similar green concrete, and the lights are naked incandescent white tubes giving everything that extra apocalyptic look. I have a feeling I will only spend just enough time in the spa to head back to my room without the receptionist noticing how quickly I've left.

"After you", he says as we stop in front of a grey steel door that looks more like the entrance to a bomb shelter than a spa. The door opens out towards us, and I round him to enter the room behind the door. It's if anything even more puzzling. Grey plastic floor and matching grey walls that looks like fabric of some kind, and another steel door in the opposite end of the room. As step into the room I see a man that looks like something straight from a non-straight porn video. Tanned, bearded, muscled, tattooed, wearing some kind of black latex singlet, a pair of obnoxious yellow adidas sneakers with matching socks, and not much more.

"This is Samir, your personal trainer," the receptionist announce behind me. I spin around only to see the door close. I take a step towards it and grab the handle which limply give way without engaging the door mechanism. Just as quick as I was to grab the door apparently Samir has approached me from behind and I feel him quickly grabbing my other arm and with a few metallic clicks secure it. It's not until he just as quickly have my other arm behind my back I realize that I'm being shackled, and probably should struggle. "Why are..." I begin to ask just as the other arm is locked together with the first one and he interrupts me with "Sschh, quiet now. Don't worry."

"But I'm..." I again start to object, and he quickly puts his hand softly over my mouth and says "Sschh" just next to my ear. "I'm your trainer. You can leave as soon as you are well trained." Then I feel the cold steel of the scissors against my shoulder as he begins to cut my T-shirt.