“These fucking girls…” Becca whispered under her breath. “I swear their pants get tighter every year.”
From her vantage point on the gym’s 2nd floor balcony, pro fitness coach Rebecca Bloom took in the marvelous sight below. A sea of treadmills and weightlifting machines covered the ground floor, each machine carrying a fit young woman, wearing ridiculously tight workout gear. They bounced, flexed, and strained against their weights, as Becca enjoyed the floor show from her vantage point above. Her eyes were drawn to their muscular curves, lingering on the hardest and leanest bodies. She felt the familiar flush of arousal begin to redden her cheeks.
Years before, when she was just getting her start as a personal trainer, Becca had tried to explain away that flush of attraction as nothing more than the redness of “a good pump”. She had tried to resist acting on her urges. Tried to keep things professional. But she found she couldn’t get through a full day of training her clients without taking several lengthy “bathroom breaks” to masturbate furiously between appointments.
Becca always knew she was bisexual, but in those early years as a trainer, she kept it to herself. After all, she might not be allowed to keep her “privileged access” to places like the locker room, if her employers knew what she did with that access. Specifically; perv on the most muscular girls at the gym by taking secret photos of them while they changed, which Becca later masturbated to. Again… furiously.
But that was her old gym. Her old life. She was at GRANITE now, and business was booming. The gym’s owner, Amer “The Hammer” Sterling, knew Rebecca Bloom was GRANITE’s most popular trainer, hands down. She’d earned a reputation for achieving incredible results with her female clients, to the point where nabbing a spot in her one-on-one training roster was getting competitive. Her incredible physique might have had something to do with that.
Even now, Becca Bloom’s sleek, muscular figure commanded the attention of the entire 2nd floor behind her. They couldn’t tear their eyes from her smooth, chiseled curves. Her pale, nordic complexion. Her strong, angular jaw. Piercing, icy blue eyes, and black hair pulled high into a ponytail. Without having to turn around, Becca knew at least a dozen pairs of eyes would be glued to her muscular ass at that very moment.
With a body like hers, Rebecca had no trouble attracting male clients. They’d pay top dollar to be trained by her, just to see her athletic body going through the motions. But she never took the guys up on it. Because Becca Bloom was here for the pussy.
Over time she had become increasingly attracted to girls with muscle, and she found what really turned her on was seeing them grow. Her current job presented so many opportunities to watch fit bodies get fitter by the day, she couldn’t imagine trading it for the world.
2
Snapping her attention back to the present, one of Becca’s new clients bounced up next to her on the balcony, bubbly and high on endorphins from an exhilarating workout. Becca was training this girl for a figure contest, but she was putting on so much muscle she should really be competing in the physique division.
In the final weeks of competition prep, Becca’s clients always looked bigger, harder, and stronger with each passing day of the countdown. And they knew Becca always wanted to see their progress.
The cute blonde figure girl was still glistening from her workout.
“Hai Becca, you wanna check my conditioning?” She gasped as she caught her breath and prepared to pose. The girl stepped back under a pool of harsh overhead light, so the shadows would showcase her muscle shape and definition.
Trying to suppress a smile, Becca took out her phone and opened the camera app. She didn’t even have to ask anymore, these girls so readily flexed for her approval. Pumping their biceps as hard as they could to show off their improvements for Becca, hoping she would notice each added inch, and every new vein.
It was only natural her clients would want to document their hard work with photos, and Becca was only too happy to encourage them. As long as she tagged a few of their photos on her Instagram channel, her clients didn’t seem to ask about all the pictures Becca took and kept for herself. Or they simply loved the attention too much to care.
With the camera framed up, the pumped blonde lifted her shirt to show her shredded abs. She hooked her thumbs underneath the lower edge of her sports bra, as she tugged it much higher than she really needed to. She was so eager to show her body. Her ripped 8 pack was flexed tight, and her top was pulled up high enough to reveal the smooth underside of her heaving breasts. The visual was mouthwatering to Becca. She wanted to bury her face in those tits and feel the hard ridges of those muscular abs pressing against her lips, as she kissed every square inch of that smooth, hard flesh.
Shit, what was this girl’s name again? Kelli? Cassie? …The blonde with the perky nipples? Becca tried to blink away her lustful thoughts, to no avail.
So she decided to push her luck. “A little higher babe?” Becca asked.
And like magic, Kelli - or Cassie - obliged. She grinned, flexed harder, and pulled the shirt even higher, stopping just short of bearing a nipple. Becca rewarded her boldness with a saucy smirk. She reframed to make sure she was capturing the way the erect nipples pushed through the fabric visibly. That alone should be worth a few dozen comments, Becca thought as she snapped the photo for her Instagram followers.
“Damn girl. That’s good shit. Now show me your side pose.” She was stoking the fires with her requests, but clearly not giving those perky nipples the kind of attention they needed.
Becca was a master at motivating her clients to reach new heights, using a potent blent of attitude, encouragement, and seduction. She would fill them with confidence in their early gains, driving them to pack on more muscle. At the right moment, she would introduce them to the world of fitness, physique, and bodybuilding competitions.
Using those ever-increasing levels of peak conditioning as a yardstick to measure progress, Becca found it was easy to push her clients to get as muscular as she wanted them to. Which was usually… very.
As her clients moved up the ranks from figure to physique, to bodybuilding, each step seemed like a logical progression. Sometimes they were out-classed by a bigger girl on stage and needed to put on size. Other times judges thought they were “too hard” meaning they needed to move up to a heavier weight class. But no matter how fit they got, Becca always pushed them to get even bigger and stronger. And they loved her for it.
Once she had them wrapped around her finger, Becca would make her move. Usually in the weeks or days leading up to the big show, when they were at peak conditioning. It also meant her clients were on an emotional roller coaster. Carb-depleted, sexual dynamite waiting to go off. And when things got tough, Becca was the only thing in their lives that made sense. Their coach was only one who understood their all-consuming passion, their freakish drive to get bigger. Because she had planted it there.
Whether they realized it or not, Becca’s clit was the carrot on a stick these girls were working for. And the funny thing was, they all thought they were the ones doing the seducing. Becca made these girls believe they were so mind-meltingly hot, she was powerless to fight their attraction. Each of her clients was the unique snowflake who “turned Becca gay” for a night. Or a week. Or a full 8 weeks of contest prep.
Becca loved every second of those workplace-inappropriate flings. But the best part? She had photos of every girl she ever trained. She could savor every nude posing session she ever received. Every cunt-shattering orgasm given and received on a hotel room bed. She was something of a collector, but she suspected she was only keeping score to make it a challenge.
It was a fun life, transforming amateur fitness girls into muscular beauties, seducing them in the process. But the sad fact was, Becca was getting bored in paradise.
“Perky Nipps” finished her flexing, wrapped up the check-in with Becca, and headed to the showers. Her picture, the almost-nipple, had already racked up 112 likes. Too easy.
3
Becca’s gaze drifted to the lower floor of the gym, where she noticed an unfamiliar girl in a hoodie standing awkwardly by herself near the lobby entrance. Her striking red hair, slung over one shoulder in a braid, caught Becca’s attention from the 2nd floor. It was hard to make out her features at this distance, but something about her held the trainer’s interest.
The girl in the hoodie moved with hesitation, taking a few steps towards the front desk, before changing course, as though she had been walking towards the vending machines all along. No one else seemed to notice her, but Becca’s predatory instincts were already sizing up a potential new client. It was hard to see what kind of body she was working with under all those clothes, but the newcomer’s shyness hinted at the difficulty Becca might have getting into her pants.
Challenge is good, Becca thought. She continued to watch from above with a predatory gaze. Hoodie-girl disappeared into the women’s bathroom for a moment, but just as quickly re-emerged. Perhaps she had given herself a pep talk. She looked a little flushed. Becca held her poker face, but couldn’t deny this was looking like a great challenge.
After standing at the vending machine for a minute, fumbling in her pockets, and coming up empty handed, the redhead seemed ready to approach the front desk. She listened and nodded a few times as the front desk gave her the standard pitch, which always included a free trial for the first day… and a free consultation with a personal trainer.
Becca took the stairs to the ground floor, while the hooded newbie was being shown around on a tour of the gym.
Becca kept herself at a distance, like a lioness stalking a gazelle. She had worked with shy types a few times before, and she knew first impressions were everything.
The tour was wrapping up, and the introverted redhead looked happy to be left alone. She settled into an empty corner and dropped her duffel bag. As she adjusted her sweater and began to stretch to warm up, Becca could see this girl’s body was not as soft as her shyness and frumpy dress implied. As the girl stretched both arms above her head, Becca caught a glimpse of a few inches of exposed skin at her midriff. She was astonished to see deeply defined ridges suggesting some serious abs, and not an ounce of fat. The thought sent an electric jolt through Becca, as she imagined what else she might be hiding under those layers.
Still wearing the hoodie and baggy track pants, the redhead sat down at one of the machines and began to lift. Almost immediately she paused to increase the weight. Then she did it again. When she was satisfied with the resistance, the redhead began powering out reps. Becca’s eyes drifted to the pin on the weight rack, and once more she felt the tingle of anticipation increase, as Becca realized the newcomer was beating her own heaviest lift on this machine by 30 lbs. A surprising turn of events. She decided it was time for an introduction.
4
As Becca approached the new girl’s corner, she ran into a group of crossfitters she was training for a physique competition. They were on their way to a group session, so thankfully she didn’t have to stop and chat for long.
“Let’s see some hustle ladies, you’re not done until you’re on the floor!” she called after them, turning her attention back to her prize.
Becca’s heart raced as she turned back to see the hoodie girl was no longer alone. Mike, another personal trainer on staff, had swooped in.
“Don’t worry about changing it up, just find the weight that works for you. First time on these machines you want to take it easy but– woah, not your first time obviously heh.”
The redhead was cranking out heavy overhead presses and trying not to make eye contact with the chatty trainer. She offered him polite little smiles and mumbled agreement, but he didn’t leave many openings to fill.
“Oh ok, I see what’s going on here. You’re a pro, yea? Cause you kinda lift like one! You’re owning this stack of iron here lady. In fact you might be the strongest girl in this place right now.”
Becca was standing close enough to pick up most of the conversation, but facing away so she wouldn’t appear to be the eavesdropper she was. Mike’s compliment on the girl’s strength had caused a jealous little sting. She glanced down at her own brawny arms folded across her chest. She absent-mindedly rotated her wrist to pop her bicep into a hard peak, and felt it with her other arm, caressing the feathered sinews of definition she could feel beneath the paper-thin skin.
Becca was quite proud of her definition. She stayed in near contest-level conditioning year round, though she never actually entered any contests. She found it helped to stay a few steps from the finish-line, so to speak, to show her clients what they could really achieve with her training. Even if she wasn’t the strongest in the room, she usually felt good about her odds at being the leanest. But the crazy abs she had glimpsed earlier under this redheaded girl’s hoodie, had Becca worried about her supposed alpha status.
As she absently rubbed her still-flexed bicep, a tearing sound interrupted Becca’s wandering thoughts.
“Did you- did you just rip your…?” Mike stammered, unsure of what he was seeing.
The redhead was frozen with her arms upraised, holding the weight at its highest point. Her back was stretching the once-baggy sweatshirt to the ripping point at the seams. It was torn open around her mid-back, below the sleeves.
Becca's eyes widened as she re-imagined what might be under that hoodie. This girl was turning out to be bodybuilder-big. Sweaters like that were hard to bust. Becca had tried.
“Wow, well I hope your under…stuff, under-clothes aren’t ripped. Hey, I guess that’s progress though! Boom! Up a sweater size! That’s a milestone right?” Mike’s positivity was relentless.
The redheaded was blushing furiously, as she racked the weight and adjusted her hoodie.
“Hey don’t feel bad, I think it’s cool, you know! But shit, now I’m just talking your ear off. Guys like me are probably why you left your old gym huh? Well don’t let me give you the wrong impression, GRANITE is a sweet place to be. Aside from me, no one’s gonna give you any shit. And I’ll make sure of that, alright?”
Just then, Mike looked up and caught Becca’s eye. He winked at her.
“Listen, I won’t feel bad if you want another trainer.” Mike continued. “You seem like the shy type, I’m just a talker, you know? Can’t help shootin’ the shit. But there are some real cool people here! Hey let me get you one of our logo shirts, it’s on me! Bigger size tho, I gotcha covered.”
Mike turned to leave, walking in Becca’s general direction. He was playing it pretty cool, but she could see Mike was holding back an impish grin. Now that’s a wing-man, Becca thought.
“Fucking, pro.” She breathed in Mike’s ear he passed, sharing a conspiratorial fist bump out of view of their mark.
Mike was one of the few people Becca had really confided in over the years. He knew about her “addiction” and the mind games she would play with her clients to persuade them to fuck her. Not that anyone in their right mind should need persuading. Mike had of course, always wanted a piece of the action himself, but he knew better than to push his luck. He seemed to genuinely enjoy setting them up for Becca to knock down. Like some patron saint of lesbian experimentation, he just wanted to make it happen, whether or not he was invited to the party.
“This one’s a handful Becks, even for you.” He whispered back.
As the redhead began to strip off her torn hoodie, Becca took a moment to savor the situation Mike had just set up for her. Underneath the sweater, a plain white athletic t-shirt was revealed clinging tightly to the girl's muscular torso. The shirt sleeves were tight around her solid, brawny arms. Her breasts looked to be pretty large, but were pressed down against her chest by a sports bra hiding under the shirt. This girl was dressed in the least showy way imaginable, but underneath she seemed to possess the figure of a thoroughbred champion.
With a body like that, the girl should really have a pro card. But Becca couldn’t recall ever seeing her face before today. It was stunning. Standing closer now, she could practically feel the youth and vigor radiate off the girl like heat. The golden freckles dusting her cheeks captivated Becca. Her long eyelashes seemed to exert a gravitational pull.
Becca was standing about 10 feet away when the redhead looked up from rummaging in her duffel bag. Suddenly their eyes were locked. Becca knew she only had a moment before spooking her gazelle, so she started talking. She wasn’t quite close enough to pounce.
“Oh hey, sorry for staring. That was just impossible not to watch.” Becca turned her eyes back to her phone screen, holding it up in front of her face to make it seem like she had other things on her mind.
“I totally get it though,” she continued “when you just want to work out in peace without dealing with other people and their bullshit?”
The freckled beauty smiled politely, but continued rummaging in her bag without a word.
Becca decided to cut to the chase. “Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. Oh and full disclosure, I work here. Nice to meet you, I’m Rebecca Bloom.”
She nodded her head at the wall at the back of the gym, where a giant wall-sized mural of Becca was painted 20 feet high, smiling and flexing her bicep. Occasionally Becca resented having to stay in shape all year to live up to that giant advertisement for the gym, but she couldn't argue it made a nice impression on the newbies.
“So here’s the deal. If you signup for a membership and pick me as your trainer, I’ll make sure you never have to talk to anyone here you don’t want to. You’ll be off limits!”
Now the redhead was giving Becca her full attention. Still saying nothing, she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side, waiting to hear more.
“Ok, so we’ll just tell everyone you don’t speak English. Or even better, I’ll just say you’re deaf! Problem solved.”
“Are you-” the redhead spoke up for the first time. “Do you even know sign language?”
Becca’s face lit up. “Ah-hah, she speaks! I was beginning to wonder if you really were deaf and I just made a terrible joke.”
“Terrible joke either way.” The redhead flashed her a nervous smile. “Besides, what if I’m just reading your lips?”
Becca saw an opportunity to steer the conversation.
“Well, at least you’re focusing on my best feature.” The trainer pouted her lips in a playful kiss.
The redhead shouldered her bag, looking around for Mike like she was getting ready to be somewhere else when he returned.
“Let me guess, you work on commission too?” The redhead asked.
Becca held her hands up. “Hey, a girl’s gotta eat!”
Mike was right, this one was already proving to be a handful. Fortunately Becca had spent years perfecting her pitch.
“Seriously though” Becca continued, “If you do want a membership, I’ll let you skip the line, and the red tape. I can tell you know your way around a stack of iron. Only my clients get access to the 2nd floor. Ladies only. No. Dicks. Allowed.” She finished with a wink.
The girl seemed to be flustered by Becca’s assertiveness. But she did appear to be considering the offer. Becca continued her sales pitch.
“Listen girl, I know what it’s like to have a body that makes people lose their shit just by being in the same room. Let’s be honest, those other gyms don’t deserve you. This place, my team, that’s where you want to be. With the pros.”
It was a gamble. Becca held her breath as the freckled redhead finally met her gaze, and held it.
“Deal.” The redhead finally agreed, with trepidation. “But I’m going to hold you to your offer, no one bothers me right?”
Becca tried to hide her glee. “What’s your name? I’ll get you set up with a locker.”
“Thanks, you can just write Lindsey B.”
“And the B is for…?” Becca pried. More hesitation. “So I can put you on my client roster!”
“Lindsey Belmont, and remember the deal!” She hissed, keeping her voice down. Becca turned to see Mike was approaching with a rolled up t-shirt in hand.
Becca strode forward, stepping into her new role as Lindsey’s bodyguard. She placed one finger on his chest, stopping him in his tracks as she plucked the shirt from his hands.
“I’ll take it from here thanks.” Becca said cheerfully. Under her breath she added “I owe you something good.”
Mike seemed to have an answer ready. “One picture and I’ll be happy." He cut her off before she could respond. "That’s my price. Just wait for one that’s too good not to share, you know?”
Becca scowled playfully. She could be possessive of her trophies. Even so, she thought, a lioness always shares the bounty of her hunt.
She turned back to Lindsey and tossed her the shirt.
“Go ahead and put that on, it’s a size up. I’ve got a session starting upstairs, feel free to stay and workout, or call it a day and come see me tomorrow!
Becca hustled up the stairs to the 2nd floor like she was running late. In actually, there was no session waiting for her. She ducked around a corner, and dipped her hand into her pants for a quick victory rub. Nothing over the top, just a few seconds of good, hard mashing on her clit to take the edge off.
It had been so hard for Becca to play it cool... to take it slow. She wanted to be patient, but images of Lindsey were pushing every other thought out of Becca's head, until only fucking remained.
One day at a time, she reassured herself.
Lindsey Belmont was worth waiting for.
Belmont & Bloom will return in:
Chapter Two
This first chapter may be light on sex, but we're building towards something good! I promise the next chapter will contain plenty of girl cock ;)
If you enjoyed the story and want to read more, leave me a comment and let me know your thoughts! I'm doing all this for free these days, so your feedback and encouragement are what keep me interested in making more :D
Thanks for reading!