Becoming His Gym Bunny (3/4)

It had been a few more weeks, and by now, the gym had become a rhythm. Familiar, automatic. Elliot barely even had to think anymore—just showed up, stretched, and followed Adrian’s lead. The movements were second nature now, smooth and efficient, each rep subtly adjusted by Adrian’s hands on his back, his hips, sometimes the soft curve just beneath his waist. His form was always perfect under Adrian’s watchful eyes—and his quiet, guiding touch.

One afternoon, Adrian mentioned a playlist he’d put together—said Elliot might like it. Elliot didn’t think twice. He slipped his earbuds in, tapped play, and let the soft, pulsing beats flood his head as he moved. There was something about it—something low and whispering underneath the rhythm, something that tugged at his thoughts in strange, quiet ways. Sometimes, when he came out of a workout, he realized he couldn’t quite remember all of it. The time just… disappeared.

“Let’s go, Ellie. Ten more.”

Elliot blinked when Adrian first said it—Ellie—but didn’t say anything. He just nodded and kept going. It was probably just a nickname. Adrian tossed out stuff like that all the time, didn’t he? But he kept using this one—again and again—and Elliot didn’t stop him.

In fact, he was starting to like it when Adrian used that cute nickname. There was just something about it that sounded… right?

His goals had shifted too, though he couldn’t remember exactly when that happened. He wasn’t trying to get bigger anymore. Not really. The idea of bulking just didn’t appeal to him now. He liked the way his waist had narrowed, how his thighs had smoothed out and started to curve subtly into his hips. The leggings he wore hugged tighter in the back now, emphasizing the soft swell of his ass. He’d noticed how they framed him when he walked past the mirrors at the gym. Sometimes he’d even slow down, just slightly, to get a better look.

And the more he liked what he saw, the more he wanted to show it off. He started spending longer in front of the mirror before each session, picking out the right outfit—something tight, something flattering. He’d bought a few new tops recently, cropped and clingy, designed to draw the eye toward his chest. It had gotten fuller lately, rounder—enough that he noticed the way it moved when he walked. Enough that Adrian had started to notice too. Sometimes he’d catch him staring just a little too long… and Elliot didn’t know why, but it made his face flush every time.

He’d even started using a little makeup—not much, just a light touch to soften his features, brighten his eyes, make him look more polished. More presentable for his workouts with Adrian.

Maybe that was why he’d started getting so flustered around him. Every smile, every little compliment sent a flutter through his chest. The way Adrian’s hand would linger—firm, guiding—at his hip, or how his voice would drop low when correcting his form. It was hard to focus sometimes.

“Okay, Ellie,” Adrian said behind him, voice smooth and steady. “Feet apart. Hands on your thighs. Just hold that stretch for me.”

Elliot nodded, easing into position. Legs spread wide, back arched slightly, fingertips resting just above his knees as he leaned forward. He could feel the tension in his thighs, the pull through his hips, the deep breath filling his chest.

Then Adrian stepped in behind him.

Close.

His hands slid down Elliot’s sides, pausing at his waist, fingers gently adjusting the angle of his hips. And then—he didn’t move away. He stayed there. Pressed in. Firm. Warm. Solid.

Elliot gave the tiniest wiggle back—pressing himself just a little deeper into Adrian’s body, his breath catching in his throat.

“Is this good?” he asked, voice soft and breathy, the faintest purr curling at the edge of the words.

Adrian’s grip tightened ever so slightly. “Just like that. Don’t move.”

The words sank into him like heat. Elliot relaxed into the pressure, savoring the warmth of Adrian’s body against his own. His cheeks flushed, just slightly, as he held still in the stretch—feeling the closeness, the steadiness, the quiet strength pressing into his back.

Then… something shifted.

The warmth between them grew heavier. Firmer. And Elliot felt it—subtle, unmistakable. The slow swell of Adrian’s cock pressing through his shorts, settling against the curve of Elliot’s ass.

He gave the tiniest smile, eyes half-lidded, still holding the stretch.

“Mmh… yeah, I can really feel the stretch now,” he murmured, not daring to move as the warmth behind him pressed in a little deeper.