SkinnyToChubby
Member
~BBW, ~WG, Lesbian - A skinny girl's decision to join a gym goes in directions she couldn't have imagined.
[Author's Note:] This is my first story (and first posting). Seems a little crazy, since I've been checking this site regularly for at least 12 years. Time for me to give back. Please let me know what you think.
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I feel like I've been doing a lot of sitting around lately. Basically, I've become a slug. I go to work, sit, come home, sit, then sleep. So when I walked by the new gym up the street from me the other day, I stopped and noticed it. I also noticed the sale sign outside (who doesn't like a sale?). I thought that perhaps if I joined a gym, perhaps I'd have a little more energy, more concentration at work. Maybe I'd feel better about myself; that's at least why most people go to the gym. Not that I needed to lose weight or anything -- far from it. I'm probably the skinniest person I know; certainly the skinniest of my friends. No, I just figured that joining a gym is a mandatory party of every self-respecting 20-something girl's life. It certainly seemed a ubiquitous element of the lives of all of my friends.
So that's how I found myself sitting at this desk, staring at an impossibly fit-looking girl named Courtney, filling out the fundamental statistics of my life on a clipboard. Name: Victoria. Age: 26. Height: 5'5". Weight....
"Excuse me, is it ok if I don't know the answers to all of the questions?"
"What's giving you trouble?" asked Courtney, probably wondering how I could not know my own name.
"Well, I actually don't really know how much I weigh," I responded.
"Oh, that's ok, we're going to give you a whole complementary body analysis before you start training, so that we know where you stand and so you can best determine your goals."
"OK, that makes sense." I really couldn't imagine what they would test, but it seemed like this place really knew what it was doing.
After filling out several other forms and agreeing to pay considerably more money on a monthly basis than seemed even remotely reasonable, Courtney asked me whether I wanted to start right away or if I wanted to come back. It being a fine Saturday morning, I figured, there's no better time than the present, so I agreed to start right away.
Courtney led me upstairs, through the warm-up room covered in mirrors and lined with mats, and into a small room to the side. This room had only a small desk, chair, cabinet and scale. Courtney asked me to sit down in the chair. She took a few basic vitals: blood pressure, resting pulse, etc. Then she asked me to take off my shoes and step on the scale. It was an old-school doctor's scale, white and metal with sliding weights. I stepped on and Courtney, standing next to me, slid the large weight to 100, while she slowly inched the small weight until it rested on 9.
"109lbs," Courtney announced.
"Is that ok?" I asked.
"Well it's definitely on the light side, but not dangerous or anything. Here, let's see what you're made of." Courtney smiled and pulled out a small tool from her desk drawer. "This is for measuring body fat. Stick your arm out straight."
I did as told and Courtney pinched the skin under my arm. It felt strange, but didn't hurt. Courtney informed me that my body fat was 18% percent, which is apparently on the lowest edge of "healthy" for a woman. The gym called it "athletic" level, like for a bodybuilder. But I was no bodybuilder.
Courtney told me that the testing was all done and asked me to sit down. "What are your goals?" she asked.
"Goals?"
"Yes. Why did you join the gym?"
I had to think about that for a second. Sluggishness, subtle peer pressure -- these didn't seem like good reasons.
Courtney volunteered, "Well I assume you didn't join to lose weight. That's why most people join, but based on this," she pointed to my testing sheet, "that wouldnt even be healthy."
"What if I didn't want to be so skinny?" I didn't know I was going to ask that until the words were coming out of my mouth.
"Do you mean like bodybuilding?" Courtney asked.
"Well, that sounds more hardcore than anything I had in mind." What did I have in mind? I looked at myself in one of the mirrored walls, hand on a slight hip and a puzzled look on my face. "I guess I'd like to be curvier, you know, maybe filled out a bit more." I had been so thin all my life, it would be nice to feel more feminine. "But I don't want to look like Arnold Schwarzenegger."
Courtney laughed. "I wouldn't worry about that. If you want to do some bulking up, there are some great strength training exercises we can do that won't leave you looking like you're on steroids. And I think that would be a healthy way for you to get in better shape and see some visible progress."
I told Courtney that her suggestion sounded good.
"Are there any areas you want to focus on? Legs, arms?"
Again, I thought for a moment. "Well, how about chest and butt?"
Courtney had a somewhat puzzled look on her face, "I suppose we could do some toning, but I don't think you're going to want to trim those up much more..."
"No," I interrupted, "I want them bigger." I blushed. I never really thought about my body as much as other girls do. Did I secretly want a curvaceous, hourglass figure when I had the stick-thin figure all the girls at the gym downstairs were struggling for?
"We'll focus on muscle bulk there then. Plus I'll consult our nutritionist, see if he has any ideas."
"Sounds like a plan then," I said, feeling like it was probably time to get going.
"Yep, it's a plan. Tomorrow at 8am then?"
I told Courtney there was no way on earth that was happening on a Sunday, so we agreed on 10am and went our separate ways.
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I woke up at 9am Sunday morning, figuring that an hour was more than enough time to emerge from the cocoon of my bed, get into the gym clothes I had bought the day before after signing up, and eat something before strolling down the street to the gym.
I had stopped by the Nike store a few blocks away after visiting the gym and picked out a few cute-looking gym outfits. The one I laid out for myself today was a matching pair of blue spandex shorts and tank top. I had grabbed extra-smalls of both; my usual size. Slipping on the shorts, I saw that I had chosen correctly as they were tight, but stretchy, the way I assumed spandex pants were supposed to fit. Not being a terribly sporty person, I was no expert in spandex. I then put on the tank top. This fit similarly, but I hadn't really appreciated that it would only come a couple inches short of meeting the shorts, so a narrow strip of my stomach and belly button were exposed. Oh well, I figured, that should teach me to try things on.
Looking at myself in my mirror, I realized that the ensemble worked, even if it wasn't my usual look. My blue-green eyes stood out, framed by my high cheekbones, with my blond hair pulled back in a pony-tail. With my honey skin and full lips, I had always been told I was pretty, but I never received too much attention, perhaps because I did little to invite it. I liked to dress very conservatively -- the queen of the turtle-neck sweater and ankle-length skirt. The gym outfit I had put on was probably the most form-fitting thing I had ever worn in public, and I felt a little naked. It was obvious how thin I was, with my skinny limbs, A-cup breasts (further flattened by a sports bra) and generally twiggy figure. The exposed strip of stomach betrayed no sign of fat, and my belly-button was nearly flush with my trim stomach. I frowned, examining myself, and told myself that today was the first day of transforming myself. So, I ate a granola bar, drank a glass of water, and set off to do just that.
Arriving at the gym, I was greeted by Courtney and a guy I hadn't met before. "Victoria, this is John," Courtney said as she gestured at the man standing next to her.
John put out his hand, "A pleasure to meet you," he said as we shook hands. John stepped back a foot, looked me over head to toe, and said, "Courtney has informed me of your goals for yourself and her training plan for you." I blushed as John looked me over, acutely aware of how exposed I was in my new gym clothes. "I'm the nutritional trainer here. May I ask what you ate for breakfast today before coming here?" I told John about my granola bar and he frowned. "No matter your goals, that probably wouldn't be the best breakfast. You know it's not just elementary school BS when they tell you that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. But especially considering your goals, a granola bar is totally insufficient. Before you leave, stop by my office" -- John pointed to a small office down the hall -- "and I'll give you a more appropriate nutritional plan, as well as some supplements that I think will be helpful." I thanked John, promised that I'd stop by before leaving, and turned to follow Courtney to the main part of the gym where the various exercise machines and weights awaited me.
Courtney led me into the main gym, and pointed out where and what the equipment was. She explained, "Especially for women, my focus is usually on cardio because of its weight loss and weight maintenance benefits, but as that isn't really a goal of yours, I'm going to de-emphasize cardio in your program. It's still an important part of health, so it's not getting totally cut, but it's not our focus."
I nodded in understanding.
Courtney then pointed towards the weight machines, explaining, "Were going to focus on weight training. I know you're concerned about looking like a bodybuilder, but trust me, that doesn't happen overnight, and there are ways to avoid that based on how you train with me and based on John's program for you."
First, Courtney had me run for fifteen minutes on the treadmill. To put it plainly, I thought I was going to die. I had not appreciated what terrible shape I was in. I may not have been fat, but I certainly wasn't fit. Breathing heavily, I disembarked the treadmill and followed Courtney over to the weight machines. We did more machines than I could remember afterward, but I remembered doing only short repetitions of (for me) heavy amounts of weight on each machine, which Courtney said would help build bulk. Most of what we did was leg, and chest, plus a machine where I laid on my stomach with my butt in the air, which Courtney jokingly named the "butt builder". That sounded useful to me. It was discouraging seeing my reflection in the mirrors on every wall as I was doing the butt builder, seeing the scrawny butt that I had to build upon.
Finally, after an exhausting hour, I was finished and was about to head out when I remembered that I was supposed to swing by John's office. I was a broken, sweaty mess, but I stumbled into John's office and said, "You wanted to see me?"
John looked up from whatever he had been reading and laughed, "Yes. It looks like Courtney certainly kicked your ass for the first day." I laughed and nodded. "Well I've got here for you a nutritional program that I think will mesh well with your workout routine. As you will see, there's an emphasis on protein and calories sufficient to help build muscle. I also have a few supplements for you."
John started scrounging through the cabinets in his office and put a few bottles on his desk, large and small. He put his hand on a smaller bottle and explained, "This here is a good multi-vitamin with some natural herbs that help with soreness and should give you some extra energy." Then John pulled out a very large cylindrical container. "This here is a protein and calorie supplement that's very important when you're trying to build muscle bulk. I thanked John and told him that I'd give it a go. "Great, well let me know if you think it's helping; Im looking forward to seeing your progress." So am I, I thought to myself, and I told John I'd keep him apprised.
So I headed home, exhausted, sweaty, and thoroughly self-conscious of how scrawny I was. But at least I definitely didn't feel lazy.
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Tuesday came around quickly, and if I thought I had been sore the day before, it was nothing in comparison to the debilitating pain I was in when I showed up for my next training appointment after work. Courtney took one look at me limping my way in and shook her head, smiling and laughing a bit to herself.
"Hi! It looks like we might have gone a bit overboard on our first day, eh?"
"It shows, does it?" I asked, laughing too as a dragged my miserable self up to her.
"Tell you what, there's no point in you training with me today--"
"--no, I can give it a try," I protested.
"No no, there's really no point, it would do more harm than good. Listen, it's really my fault I worked you so hard the first day, so why don't I introduce you to another important aspect of a comprehensive training program: sports massage."
Now this was starting to sound good.
"Massage isn't just a luxury. When done properly, it can help rejuvenate muscles, stimulate muscle growth and re-energize you. And since you're new and I abused you, this one's on us."
This all sounded a lot better than what I had walked in expecting, sore state that I was in, so I didn't have to think twice before agreeing.
The masseuse for the gym was named Becca, and she was the kind of woman who could possibly make even me feel fat. In full hippie regalia, her hair tied back and her stick-thin arms exposed, I wondered how she could have what I had always imagined to be a rather strenuous job given the emaciated shape she was in.
Becca asked me to take off my clothes, lie down on the massage table, and slide under the towel that was on the table. She stepped out of the room while I got into position. This was my first massage, and it felt very strange to be getting naked in a room so that a stranger could touch me, but I figured this is something people do. So I peeled off my gym clothes, crawled onto the (cold!) bed and lay down, towel draped over my butt and my head in the massage pillow.
I heard the door open, and Becca said in her soothing voice, "I understand that this is your first time and I know that you're pretty sore from your workout the other day, so I'll go easy on you. Please let me know if anything I'm doing hurts and I'll stop right away."
After a very relaxing hour, Becca stepped out of the room so that I could get dressed again, and she told me to be sure to drink plenty of fluids. I was covered in massage oil and felt like a piece of putty. It had been quite an experience. Relaxing, to be sure, but at moments a little thrill had gone through me as this absolute stranger ran her hands down my legs, or when she massaged my butt (the largest muscle, she reminded me). She even had me flip over and massaged my stomach and shoulders. It had been wonderful.
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The next day, I woke up feeling dramatically better. Still a bit sore, but I was ready to get back in the gym. After work, I headed home, changed, and walked over to the gym. And so things continued for a few weeks: I went to the gym four to five days a week, worked out with Courtney, and she kicked my ass. It was about three weeks after I had started this regimen that I found myself changing to shower after going to the gym when I stopped and really took a look at myself. I was exhausted, covered in a thin sheen of moisture from the workout, with my hair pulled back, but as I took off my gym clothes, I realized that I could really see the difference the training was making. At first, the most noticeable thing was that I could see the muscles in my arms for the first time (that had been my focus for the day). But taking a closer look at myself, I realized that I had started filling out a little. I could see a little extra muscle tone everywhere; not "muscular," but I wasn't quite the beanpole I had been. And I had boobs, or at least the start of them. I had taken to wearing sports bras a lot, which are never comfortable, but I had noticed at work earlier in the day that my regular bra was feeling particularly constricting. I stood in the mirror, cupping my breasts in my hands and realized that it was probably a time for an upgrade. I couldn't help but smile. It didn't seem like this "upgrade" of mine was entirely muscle, but then I realized that between the nutrition plan John had put me on and the supplements he gave me, I was eating a lot more calories, and it looked like they were going to good use. I twisted myself around and tried to get a look at my butt, to see what progress had been made. It seemed like it might be a bit fuller, but it was hard to say. I was very excited with the progress, but I wanted more.
I arrived at the gym the next day totally motivated. Before we got started, Courtney told me that it was our one month anniversary together, and she suggested that we head upstairs to check on my progress, reminding me that keeping accurate records was important. I agreed, and we headed up to the office I had last visited on my first day. Blood pressure out of the way, Courtney asked me to take off my shoes and step on the scale.
"116 lbs," Courtney announced.
I had gained weight. This never happened before.
Courtney saw the concerned look on my face. "Don't worry, that's to be expected. You don't think these new muscles are weightless, do you?" She smiled and patted my arm.
Courtney also measured my body fat %. It was 19%, up 1%. "That's a negligible change, probably just a result of the extra calories you're taking in to build muscle. It'll burn off eventually."
This too was new to me, though I didn't actually think I looked any fatter.
Courtney and I headed downstairs to the weight room and I worked myself harder than ever before.
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A couple weeks later I noticed that I was really starting to make progress, maybe too much progress. On one hand, I had been building a fair amount of muscle in a lot of the right places, and I thought I was starting to look a little curvier, at least when dressed. My pants had started getting a little tighter in the butt as I built up my glutes, and my new b-cups were starting to feel a little tight. But standing naked in front of the mirror, I wasn't sure I liked what I saw. With the noticeable start of a six pack and visibly muscular limbs, I was worried that I was getting that too-muscular look that I had been worried about getting. I needed to talk to Courtney and John about this. I wanted a more feminine figure, and I was worried that I was starting to move in the opposite direction.
At the gym the next day, I spoke with Courtney about my concern. She suggested that I speak with John. I don't think that any girl finds it easy to talk about her body; I certainly didn't, but talking about this stuff with John was doubly uncomfortable because he is a guy.
I poked my head into John's office, "Hey John, I was wondering I you might have a second to talk?"
"Of course I do," John responded, smiling. He waved me in to his office, and I stepped inside. I hadn't started my workout yet, but I was clad almost entirely in spandex, and I could tell that John was taking in what he saw in front of him. "What did you want to talk about? It looks like you've been making good progress."
I blushed at his observation. "Well, actually, I'm not sure that I'm exactly making the kind of progress I want."
John pointed at my partially exposed abs and said, "Youre clearly adding muscle, and according to your last evaluation, you've added 7 lbs of muscle--"
I interrupted him, putting my hand on the abs he was just pointing at, "--see, that's the thing, maybe I don't want to just add muscle. I came here wanting to look curvier, and I don't know if that is happening."
John looked at the folder that had my evaluation stats in it, and he looked like he was thinking about something. He took out a calculator, crunched a few numbers and said, "I don't think you need me to tell you that you're very thin, and your routine here hasn't really changed that, even if it's added a few pounds of muscle to your frame. If you really want to add some curves to your body and dont want to look more muscular, the only real option you have is to add fat instead."
I didn't know what to make of this option. "I don't want to get fat, I'm just hoping for a more hourglass sort of figure."
Well perhaps just ten pounds or so. Your body fat is so low right now, you could easily put on double that and still be in a healthy range that most girls at this gym would kill to be in. Hell, most people would say that you'll be healthier with a slightly higher body fat percentage than you've got right now."
I raised one eyebrow, smiled, and said, "Are you call me too skinny?"
Now I was John's turn to blush. "I'm saying that my suggestion for how you can best meet your personal goals is a moderate increase in body fat. Bear in mind though, this is not targeted like the weight training your doing with Courtney. If you gain ten pounds of fat, it will likely contribute to those curves you're looking for, but it may also conceal that toned stomach of yours."
"Oh that's ok," I said as I rubbed my abs "this wasn't really the look I was going for."
John smiled. "In that case, I'm going to suggest that you double up on the protein supplement I gave to you. It's packed with healthy calories. And try to eat extra small meals if you can squeeze them in."
"I'll do what I can. Thanks for the help." I turned around and began to walk out of the office.
"No problem. And Victoria," I turned my head back to see John, "don't look now, but you've got a few more curves than I think you know about."
He was talking about my ass! I guess all that time on the "butt machine" was paying off. Beet-red, I walked back into the hallway and into the locker room. Standing in front of the large mirrors, I twisted myself around to see what John was talking about. I guess my butt was getting bigger, though in a petite, pert sort of way. Looking around to make sure the locker room was empty, I patted myself on the ass and whispered to myself, "Lets see what you can do with a few extra pounds."
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Over the next week, I took John's suggestions to heart, doubling up on his supplements and eating like it was my full-time job. Speaking of a full-time job, work was really busy that week and I had to miss a couple of workouts, so by the time Saturday came around and I had been eating for two for a full week and had only made it to the gym once, early in the week.
Sliding on my gym shorts, I noticed that they were unusually tight. The spandex halter top was just as tight, and when I checked the mirror to see what the story was, the issue was apparent.
I had gained weight.
Not a lot, but enough that to me (and the gym clothes) it was noticeable. "Well," I thought to myself, "it seems like John's plan is working; let's see what we've got here." I checked myself out thoroughly, and it looked like the weight was distributed pretty evenly in the right places. The effect was subtle, and I had been so busy all week that it was no wonder that I hadn't noticed the change, but standing before the mirror, I could see the difference. My chest looked a little fuller, my thighs a bit too. I could see that my abs were somewhat obscured underneath a thin layer of fat, which did a lot to reduce the bodybuilder look I was worried about. And inspecting myself in my floor-length, tri-fold mirror, I could tell that my butt was a little fuller and sticking out more, with my spandex shorts noticeable straining to hold in my swelling rear. The overall effect was that I still looked thin, or at least average weight, but my body looked more smoothed out and filled out.
For a moment my girl instincts kicked in and I began to panic in the face of a noticeable weight gain, but then I reminded myself that this was intentional and healthy. Plus, looking at myself, I realized that I looked good. Really good. This self-improvement project was finally starting to come together and I liked what I saw was shaping up to be the new me.
Courtney was out for the next couple of weeks, so I worked with a substitute trainer during that time. Near the end of those two weeks, I began to have some trouble with my work wardrobe. I usually wore suits to work, but by the Thursday before Courtney was scheduled to return, I found that I had a number of outfits that I had simply outgrown. This was shocking to me; I had been wearing the same size clothing since high school. Nevertheless, there I was, trying to button a pair of slacks that I had only just barely managed to squeeze past my ass, when I realized that no matter what I did, I was not going to get the pants buttoned. I looked at up at the scene of my defeat in the mirror, wondering what I was going to wear to work, when the full scale of my situation came into focus.
Staring back at me in the mirror was a girl who was obviously too fat for her pants. Mind you, I was not too muscular, or buff. Rather, poking out over the waistband of my tight panties was the surprisingly soft-looking start of a little pot belly, a couple of inches of chub rolling over the panties. This was why I couldn't button my slacks. I stood transfixed, fascinated by the appearance of my new fat.
Fat! On me! I poked my stomach and my finger sank in. I grabbed the squishy pudge with my hand and kneaded it for a moment. On some level, I was horrified--I was getting fat! But as I pressed my hand into my soft new belly, a different feeling began to take hold, and I started peeling off the slacks I had just struggled so hard to put on. My hands drifted from my belly to my hips, which had grown visibly wider, and I grasped at the little love handles that were forming over my panties. I smiled, and realized I was enjoying this tremendously. I moved my hands back, until I was cradling my ass in my hands. It felt so big! I positioned myself in the mirror and momentarily laughed. My ass had grown so much it looked like it was devouring my poor panties, which were wedged up my ass. I shuffled in place for a moment and could see my newly fattened ass jiggling in the mirror. I felt myself getting wet and couldn't believe it. "I'm getting fat," I said to myself, "and I'm liking it!" Was this what I had wanted all along? All of that targeted muscle building, and all I really wanted was to plump up a bit?
Now, mind you, I was anything but fat, but I was also definitely not skinny anymore. I had the healthy, well-fed look of a girl who's starting to lean towards chubby, and my curvy reflection thrilled me. Even my boobs must have grown at least a cup size.
Of course, I could stand around all day staring at myself, but I needed to get to work, and something more than a comically tight pair of panties was called for. I eventually tracked down a pair of slacks I could fasten, though they looked painted on me. I also found a white, button-down shirt that barely fit with buttons that were pulling apart somewhat dangerously near my chest and belly. It would have to do. I headed off to work and hoped that no one would say anything. I'd have to go shopping over the weekend.
[continued below]
[Author's Note:] This is my first story (and first posting). Seems a little crazy, since I've been checking this site regularly for at least 12 years. Time for me to give back. Please let me know what you think.
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Bodybuilder
by SkinnyToChubby
I feel like I've been doing a lot of sitting around lately. Basically, I've become a slug. I go to work, sit, come home, sit, then sleep. So when I walked by the new gym up the street from me the other day, I stopped and noticed it. I also noticed the sale sign outside (who doesn't like a sale?). I thought that perhaps if I joined a gym, perhaps I'd have a little more energy, more concentration at work. Maybe I'd feel better about myself; that's at least why most people go to the gym. Not that I needed to lose weight or anything -- far from it. I'm probably the skinniest person I know; certainly the skinniest of my friends. No, I just figured that joining a gym is a mandatory party of every self-respecting 20-something girl's life. It certainly seemed a ubiquitous element of the lives of all of my friends.
So that's how I found myself sitting at this desk, staring at an impossibly fit-looking girl named Courtney, filling out the fundamental statistics of my life on a clipboard. Name: Victoria. Age: 26. Height: 5'5". Weight....
"Excuse me, is it ok if I don't know the answers to all of the questions?"
"What's giving you trouble?" asked Courtney, probably wondering how I could not know my own name.
"Well, I actually don't really know how much I weigh," I responded.
"Oh, that's ok, we're going to give you a whole complementary body analysis before you start training, so that we know where you stand and so you can best determine your goals."
"OK, that makes sense." I really couldn't imagine what they would test, but it seemed like this place really knew what it was doing.
After filling out several other forms and agreeing to pay considerably more money on a monthly basis than seemed even remotely reasonable, Courtney asked me whether I wanted to start right away or if I wanted to come back. It being a fine Saturday morning, I figured, there's no better time than the present, so I agreed to start right away.
Courtney led me upstairs, through the warm-up room covered in mirrors and lined with mats, and into a small room to the side. This room had only a small desk, chair, cabinet and scale. Courtney asked me to sit down in the chair. She took a few basic vitals: blood pressure, resting pulse, etc. Then she asked me to take off my shoes and step on the scale. It was an old-school doctor's scale, white and metal with sliding weights. I stepped on and Courtney, standing next to me, slid the large weight to 100, while she slowly inched the small weight until it rested on 9.
"109lbs," Courtney announced.
"Is that ok?" I asked.
"Well it's definitely on the light side, but not dangerous or anything. Here, let's see what you're made of." Courtney smiled and pulled out a small tool from her desk drawer. "This is for measuring body fat. Stick your arm out straight."
I did as told and Courtney pinched the skin under my arm. It felt strange, but didn't hurt. Courtney informed me that my body fat was 18% percent, which is apparently on the lowest edge of "healthy" for a woman. The gym called it "athletic" level, like for a bodybuilder. But I was no bodybuilder.
Courtney told me that the testing was all done and asked me to sit down. "What are your goals?" she asked.
"Goals?"
"Yes. Why did you join the gym?"
I had to think about that for a second. Sluggishness, subtle peer pressure -- these didn't seem like good reasons.
Courtney volunteered, "Well I assume you didn't join to lose weight. That's why most people join, but based on this," she pointed to my testing sheet, "that wouldnt even be healthy."
"What if I didn't want to be so skinny?" I didn't know I was going to ask that until the words were coming out of my mouth.
"Do you mean like bodybuilding?" Courtney asked.
"Well, that sounds more hardcore than anything I had in mind." What did I have in mind? I looked at myself in one of the mirrored walls, hand on a slight hip and a puzzled look on my face. "I guess I'd like to be curvier, you know, maybe filled out a bit more." I had been so thin all my life, it would be nice to feel more feminine. "But I don't want to look like Arnold Schwarzenegger."
Courtney laughed. "I wouldn't worry about that. If you want to do some bulking up, there are some great strength training exercises we can do that won't leave you looking like you're on steroids. And I think that would be a healthy way for you to get in better shape and see some visible progress."
I told Courtney that her suggestion sounded good.
"Are there any areas you want to focus on? Legs, arms?"
Again, I thought for a moment. "Well, how about chest and butt?"
Courtney had a somewhat puzzled look on her face, "I suppose we could do some toning, but I don't think you're going to want to trim those up much more..."
"No," I interrupted, "I want them bigger." I blushed. I never really thought about my body as much as other girls do. Did I secretly want a curvaceous, hourglass figure when I had the stick-thin figure all the girls at the gym downstairs were struggling for?
"We'll focus on muscle bulk there then. Plus I'll consult our nutritionist, see if he has any ideas."
"Sounds like a plan then," I said, feeling like it was probably time to get going.
"Yep, it's a plan. Tomorrow at 8am then?"
I told Courtney there was no way on earth that was happening on a Sunday, so we agreed on 10am and went our separate ways.
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I woke up at 9am Sunday morning, figuring that an hour was more than enough time to emerge from the cocoon of my bed, get into the gym clothes I had bought the day before after signing up, and eat something before strolling down the street to the gym.
I had stopped by the Nike store a few blocks away after visiting the gym and picked out a few cute-looking gym outfits. The one I laid out for myself today was a matching pair of blue spandex shorts and tank top. I had grabbed extra-smalls of both; my usual size. Slipping on the shorts, I saw that I had chosen correctly as they were tight, but stretchy, the way I assumed spandex pants were supposed to fit. Not being a terribly sporty person, I was no expert in spandex. I then put on the tank top. This fit similarly, but I hadn't really appreciated that it would only come a couple inches short of meeting the shorts, so a narrow strip of my stomach and belly button were exposed. Oh well, I figured, that should teach me to try things on.
Looking at myself in my mirror, I realized that the ensemble worked, even if it wasn't my usual look. My blue-green eyes stood out, framed by my high cheekbones, with my blond hair pulled back in a pony-tail. With my honey skin and full lips, I had always been told I was pretty, but I never received too much attention, perhaps because I did little to invite it. I liked to dress very conservatively -- the queen of the turtle-neck sweater and ankle-length skirt. The gym outfit I had put on was probably the most form-fitting thing I had ever worn in public, and I felt a little naked. It was obvious how thin I was, with my skinny limbs, A-cup breasts (further flattened by a sports bra) and generally twiggy figure. The exposed strip of stomach betrayed no sign of fat, and my belly-button was nearly flush with my trim stomach. I frowned, examining myself, and told myself that today was the first day of transforming myself. So, I ate a granola bar, drank a glass of water, and set off to do just that.
Arriving at the gym, I was greeted by Courtney and a guy I hadn't met before. "Victoria, this is John," Courtney said as she gestured at the man standing next to her.
John put out his hand, "A pleasure to meet you," he said as we shook hands. John stepped back a foot, looked me over head to toe, and said, "Courtney has informed me of your goals for yourself and her training plan for you." I blushed as John looked me over, acutely aware of how exposed I was in my new gym clothes. "I'm the nutritional trainer here. May I ask what you ate for breakfast today before coming here?" I told John about my granola bar and he frowned. "No matter your goals, that probably wouldn't be the best breakfast. You know it's not just elementary school BS when they tell you that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. But especially considering your goals, a granola bar is totally insufficient. Before you leave, stop by my office" -- John pointed to a small office down the hall -- "and I'll give you a more appropriate nutritional plan, as well as some supplements that I think will be helpful." I thanked John, promised that I'd stop by before leaving, and turned to follow Courtney to the main part of the gym where the various exercise machines and weights awaited me.
Courtney led me into the main gym, and pointed out where and what the equipment was. She explained, "Especially for women, my focus is usually on cardio because of its weight loss and weight maintenance benefits, but as that isn't really a goal of yours, I'm going to de-emphasize cardio in your program. It's still an important part of health, so it's not getting totally cut, but it's not our focus."
I nodded in understanding.
Courtney then pointed towards the weight machines, explaining, "Were going to focus on weight training. I know you're concerned about looking like a bodybuilder, but trust me, that doesn't happen overnight, and there are ways to avoid that based on how you train with me and based on John's program for you."
First, Courtney had me run for fifteen minutes on the treadmill. To put it plainly, I thought I was going to die. I had not appreciated what terrible shape I was in. I may not have been fat, but I certainly wasn't fit. Breathing heavily, I disembarked the treadmill and followed Courtney over to the weight machines. We did more machines than I could remember afterward, but I remembered doing only short repetitions of (for me) heavy amounts of weight on each machine, which Courtney said would help build bulk. Most of what we did was leg, and chest, plus a machine where I laid on my stomach with my butt in the air, which Courtney jokingly named the "butt builder". That sounded useful to me. It was discouraging seeing my reflection in the mirrors on every wall as I was doing the butt builder, seeing the scrawny butt that I had to build upon.
Finally, after an exhausting hour, I was finished and was about to head out when I remembered that I was supposed to swing by John's office. I was a broken, sweaty mess, but I stumbled into John's office and said, "You wanted to see me?"
John looked up from whatever he had been reading and laughed, "Yes. It looks like Courtney certainly kicked your ass for the first day." I laughed and nodded. "Well I've got here for you a nutritional program that I think will mesh well with your workout routine. As you will see, there's an emphasis on protein and calories sufficient to help build muscle. I also have a few supplements for you."
John started scrounging through the cabinets in his office and put a few bottles on his desk, large and small. He put his hand on a smaller bottle and explained, "This here is a good multi-vitamin with some natural herbs that help with soreness and should give you some extra energy." Then John pulled out a very large cylindrical container. "This here is a protein and calorie supplement that's very important when you're trying to build muscle bulk. I thanked John and told him that I'd give it a go. "Great, well let me know if you think it's helping; Im looking forward to seeing your progress." So am I, I thought to myself, and I told John I'd keep him apprised.
So I headed home, exhausted, sweaty, and thoroughly self-conscious of how scrawny I was. But at least I definitely didn't feel lazy.
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Tuesday came around quickly, and if I thought I had been sore the day before, it was nothing in comparison to the debilitating pain I was in when I showed up for my next training appointment after work. Courtney took one look at me limping my way in and shook her head, smiling and laughing a bit to herself.
"Hi! It looks like we might have gone a bit overboard on our first day, eh?"
"It shows, does it?" I asked, laughing too as a dragged my miserable self up to her.
"Tell you what, there's no point in you training with me today--"
"--no, I can give it a try," I protested.
"No no, there's really no point, it would do more harm than good. Listen, it's really my fault I worked you so hard the first day, so why don't I introduce you to another important aspect of a comprehensive training program: sports massage."
Now this was starting to sound good.
"Massage isn't just a luxury. When done properly, it can help rejuvenate muscles, stimulate muscle growth and re-energize you. And since you're new and I abused you, this one's on us."
This all sounded a lot better than what I had walked in expecting, sore state that I was in, so I didn't have to think twice before agreeing.
The masseuse for the gym was named Becca, and she was the kind of woman who could possibly make even me feel fat. In full hippie regalia, her hair tied back and her stick-thin arms exposed, I wondered how she could have what I had always imagined to be a rather strenuous job given the emaciated shape she was in.
Becca asked me to take off my clothes, lie down on the massage table, and slide under the towel that was on the table. She stepped out of the room while I got into position. This was my first massage, and it felt very strange to be getting naked in a room so that a stranger could touch me, but I figured this is something people do. So I peeled off my gym clothes, crawled onto the (cold!) bed and lay down, towel draped over my butt and my head in the massage pillow.
I heard the door open, and Becca said in her soothing voice, "I understand that this is your first time and I know that you're pretty sore from your workout the other day, so I'll go easy on you. Please let me know if anything I'm doing hurts and I'll stop right away."
After a very relaxing hour, Becca stepped out of the room so that I could get dressed again, and she told me to be sure to drink plenty of fluids. I was covered in massage oil and felt like a piece of putty. It had been quite an experience. Relaxing, to be sure, but at moments a little thrill had gone through me as this absolute stranger ran her hands down my legs, or when she massaged my butt (the largest muscle, she reminded me). She even had me flip over and massaged my stomach and shoulders. It had been wonderful.
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The next day, I woke up feeling dramatically better. Still a bit sore, but I was ready to get back in the gym. After work, I headed home, changed, and walked over to the gym. And so things continued for a few weeks: I went to the gym four to five days a week, worked out with Courtney, and she kicked my ass. It was about three weeks after I had started this regimen that I found myself changing to shower after going to the gym when I stopped and really took a look at myself. I was exhausted, covered in a thin sheen of moisture from the workout, with my hair pulled back, but as I took off my gym clothes, I realized that I could really see the difference the training was making. At first, the most noticeable thing was that I could see the muscles in my arms for the first time (that had been my focus for the day). But taking a closer look at myself, I realized that I had started filling out a little. I could see a little extra muscle tone everywhere; not "muscular," but I wasn't quite the beanpole I had been. And I had boobs, or at least the start of them. I had taken to wearing sports bras a lot, which are never comfortable, but I had noticed at work earlier in the day that my regular bra was feeling particularly constricting. I stood in the mirror, cupping my breasts in my hands and realized that it was probably a time for an upgrade. I couldn't help but smile. It didn't seem like this "upgrade" of mine was entirely muscle, but then I realized that between the nutrition plan John had put me on and the supplements he gave me, I was eating a lot more calories, and it looked like they were going to good use. I twisted myself around and tried to get a look at my butt, to see what progress had been made. It seemed like it might be a bit fuller, but it was hard to say. I was very excited with the progress, but I wanted more.
I arrived at the gym the next day totally motivated. Before we got started, Courtney told me that it was our one month anniversary together, and she suggested that we head upstairs to check on my progress, reminding me that keeping accurate records was important. I agreed, and we headed up to the office I had last visited on my first day. Blood pressure out of the way, Courtney asked me to take off my shoes and step on the scale.
"116 lbs," Courtney announced.
I had gained weight. This never happened before.
Courtney saw the concerned look on my face. "Don't worry, that's to be expected. You don't think these new muscles are weightless, do you?" She smiled and patted my arm.
Courtney also measured my body fat %. It was 19%, up 1%. "That's a negligible change, probably just a result of the extra calories you're taking in to build muscle. It'll burn off eventually."
This too was new to me, though I didn't actually think I looked any fatter.
Courtney and I headed downstairs to the weight room and I worked myself harder than ever before.
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A couple weeks later I noticed that I was really starting to make progress, maybe too much progress. On one hand, I had been building a fair amount of muscle in a lot of the right places, and I thought I was starting to look a little curvier, at least when dressed. My pants had started getting a little tighter in the butt as I built up my glutes, and my new b-cups were starting to feel a little tight. But standing naked in front of the mirror, I wasn't sure I liked what I saw. With the noticeable start of a six pack and visibly muscular limbs, I was worried that I was getting that too-muscular look that I had been worried about getting. I needed to talk to Courtney and John about this. I wanted a more feminine figure, and I was worried that I was starting to move in the opposite direction.
At the gym the next day, I spoke with Courtney about my concern. She suggested that I speak with John. I don't think that any girl finds it easy to talk about her body; I certainly didn't, but talking about this stuff with John was doubly uncomfortable because he is a guy.
I poked my head into John's office, "Hey John, I was wondering I you might have a second to talk?"
"Of course I do," John responded, smiling. He waved me in to his office, and I stepped inside. I hadn't started my workout yet, but I was clad almost entirely in spandex, and I could tell that John was taking in what he saw in front of him. "What did you want to talk about? It looks like you've been making good progress."
I blushed at his observation. "Well, actually, I'm not sure that I'm exactly making the kind of progress I want."
John pointed at my partially exposed abs and said, "Youre clearly adding muscle, and according to your last evaluation, you've added 7 lbs of muscle--"
I interrupted him, putting my hand on the abs he was just pointing at, "--see, that's the thing, maybe I don't want to just add muscle. I came here wanting to look curvier, and I don't know if that is happening."
John looked at the folder that had my evaluation stats in it, and he looked like he was thinking about something. He took out a calculator, crunched a few numbers and said, "I don't think you need me to tell you that you're very thin, and your routine here hasn't really changed that, even if it's added a few pounds of muscle to your frame. If you really want to add some curves to your body and dont want to look more muscular, the only real option you have is to add fat instead."
I didn't know what to make of this option. "I don't want to get fat, I'm just hoping for a more hourglass sort of figure."
Well perhaps just ten pounds or so. Your body fat is so low right now, you could easily put on double that and still be in a healthy range that most girls at this gym would kill to be in. Hell, most people would say that you'll be healthier with a slightly higher body fat percentage than you've got right now."
I raised one eyebrow, smiled, and said, "Are you call me too skinny?"
Now I was John's turn to blush. "I'm saying that my suggestion for how you can best meet your personal goals is a moderate increase in body fat. Bear in mind though, this is not targeted like the weight training your doing with Courtney. If you gain ten pounds of fat, it will likely contribute to those curves you're looking for, but it may also conceal that toned stomach of yours."
"Oh that's ok," I said as I rubbed my abs "this wasn't really the look I was going for."
John smiled. "In that case, I'm going to suggest that you double up on the protein supplement I gave to you. It's packed with healthy calories. And try to eat extra small meals if you can squeeze them in."
"I'll do what I can. Thanks for the help." I turned around and began to walk out of the office.
"No problem. And Victoria," I turned my head back to see John, "don't look now, but you've got a few more curves than I think you know about."
He was talking about my ass! I guess all that time on the "butt machine" was paying off. Beet-red, I walked back into the hallway and into the locker room. Standing in front of the large mirrors, I twisted myself around to see what John was talking about. I guess my butt was getting bigger, though in a petite, pert sort of way. Looking around to make sure the locker room was empty, I patted myself on the ass and whispered to myself, "Lets see what you can do with a few extra pounds."
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Over the next week, I took John's suggestions to heart, doubling up on his supplements and eating like it was my full-time job. Speaking of a full-time job, work was really busy that week and I had to miss a couple of workouts, so by the time Saturday came around and I had been eating for two for a full week and had only made it to the gym once, early in the week.
Sliding on my gym shorts, I noticed that they were unusually tight. The spandex halter top was just as tight, and when I checked the mirror to see what the story was, the issue was apparent.
I had gained weight.
Not a lot, but enough that to me (and the gym clothes) it was noticeable. "Well," I thought to myself, "it seems like John's plan is working; let's see what we've got here." I checked myself out thoroughly, and it looked like the weight was distributed pretty evenly in the right places. The effect was subtle, and I had been so busy all week that it was no wonder that I hadn't noticed the change, but standing before the mirror, I could see the difference. My chest looked a little fuller, my thighs a bit too. I could see that my abs were somewhat obscured underneath a thin layer of fat, which did a lot to reduce the bodybuilder look I was worried about. And inspecting myself in my floor-length, tri-fold mirror, I could tell that my butt was a little fuller and sticking out more, with my spandex shorts noticeable straining to hold in my swelling rear. The overall effect was that I still looked thin, or at least average weight, but my body looked more smoothed out and filled out.
For a moment my girl instincts kicked in and I began to panic in the face of a noticeable weight gain, but then I reminded myself that this was intentional and healthy. Plus, looking at myself, I realized that I looked good. Really good. This self-improvement project was finally starting to come together and I liked what I saw was shaping up to be the new me.
Courtney was out for the next couple of weeks, so I worked with a substitute trainer during that time. Near the end of those two weeks, I began to have some trouble with my work wardrobe. I usually wore suits to work, but by the Thursday before Courtney was scheduled to return, I found that I had a number of outfits that I had simply outgrown. This was shocking to me; I had been wearing the same size clothing since high school. Nevertheless, there I was, trying to button a pair of slacks that I had only just barely managed to squeeze past my ass, when I realized that no matter what I did, I was not going to get the pants buttoned. I looked at up at the scene of my defeat in the mirror, wondering what I was going to wear to work, when the full scale of my situation came into focus.
Staring back at me in the mirror was a girl who was obviously too fat for her pants. Mind you, I was not too muscular, or buff. Rather, poking out over the waistband of my tight panties was the surprisingly soft-looking start of a little pot belly, a couple of inches of chub rolling over the panties. This was why I couldn't button my slacks. I stood transfixed, fascinated by the appearance of my new fat.
Fat! On me! I poked my stomach and my finger sank in. I grabbed the squishy pudge with my hand and kneaded it for a moment. On some level, I was horrified--I was getting fat! But as I pressed my hand into my soft new belly, a different feeling began to take hold, and I started peeling off the slacks I had just struggled so hard to put on. My hands drifted from my belly to my hips, which had grown visibly wider, and I grasped at the little love handles that were forming over my panties. I smiled, and realized I was enjoying this tremendously. I moved my hands back, until I was cradling my ass in my hands. It felt so big! I positioned myself in the mirror and momentarily laughed. My ass had grown so much it looked like it was devouring my poor panties, which were wedged up my ass. I shuffled in place for a moment and could see my newly fattened ass jiggling in the mirror. I felt myself getting wet and couldn't believe it. "I'm getting fat," I said to myself, "and I'm liking it!" Was this what I had wanted all along? All of that targeted muscle building, and all I really wanted was to plump up a bit?
Now, mind you, I was anything but fat, but I was also definitely not skinny anymore. I had the healthy, well-fed look of a girl who's starting to lean towards chubby, and my curvy reflection thrilled me. Even my boobs must have grown at least a cup size.
Of course, I could stand around all day staring at myself, but I needed to get to work, and something more than a comically tight pair of panties was called for. I eventually tracked down a pair of slacks I could fasten, though they looked painted on me. I also found a white, button-down shirt that barely fit with buttons that were pulling apart somewhat dangerously near my chest and belly. It would have to do. I headed off to work and hoped that no one would say anything. I'd have to go shopping over the weekend.
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