Becoming His Gym Bunny (1/4)

Elliot had never been to a gym before. Not seriously. Sure, he’d poked around online, watched a few beginner videos on form and muscle groups, but none of that stopped the overwhelming awkwardness of standing there in his thrift-store tee, cargo shorts, and scuffed-up sneakers. He looked less like a guy ready to bulk up and more like someone waiting for their mom to pick them up after school.

Still, he was here. Elliot had promised himself this would be the summer he'd finally bulk up—get toned, build some confidence, maybe even find a girlfriend. He lingered near one of the machines, awkwardly adjusting the seat height and tugging at the handles like they might explain themselves, when a deep voice called out behind him.

“Need a hand?” the man asked, his voice calm and low. “I’m Adrian.”

Elliot turned, blinking up at him. Broad chest, tight black tank clinging to every perfect line. Calm, focused eyes. The kind of guy Elliot could only dream of being—everything he wasn’t.

Adrian stepped in close, adjusting Elliot’s grip with steady, practiced hands and guiding him through the movements, correcting his posture with casual authority. They moved through a few simple exercises—nothing fancy—but Elliot could feel something shift. With each set, he grew a little more confident, a little less lost. By the end of it, there was the faintest flicker of pride warming his chest as Adrian gave him a quiet nod of approval.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked.

Elliot blinked. “You’d—help me again?”

Adrian smirked. “Absolutely. You've got more potential than you realize… and I’d hate to see it go to waste.”

The next day, Elliot returned promptly at 6 PM, fresh shirt, same baggy shorts. He spotted Adrian waiting already—leaning casually against a squat rack, arms folded, a small gym bag at his feet.

“Glad you came back,” Adrian said. “But those clothes? They’re not really made for training,” he added, already pulling something from his bag. “You’ll feel the difference in these. Trust me.”

Elliot took the clothes without a word, fingers brushing over the soft fabric—sleek, stretchy, and far more form-fitting than anything he’d ever worn. He disappeared into the changing room, peeling off his usual baggy layers before sliding the slate-gray leggings up his legs. They clung tight, hugging his calves and thighs in a way that felt oddly smooth and... shaping. The black tank top followed, snug and sleeveless, molding to his narrow torso with alarming precision.

When he stepped out, Adrian was waiting.

“Here,” Adrian said casually, already reaching into his pocket. “Let me just…”

Before Elliot could ask, Adrian’s hands were in his hair—gathering it up, twisting, securing it into a neat, messy bun with a band. “It’ll keep it out of your face during training,” he added smoothly, stepping back to admire the effect.

Elliot turned his head slightly—and froze.

For a second, just a second, he thought there was a girl standing in the mirror. Petite, slim, almost delicate. He blinked hard, his stomach fluttering as he realized the girl was him.

“I look kinda…” he started, voice barely above a whisper, “...girly?”

Adrian just smiled—calm, reassuring… and maybe a little too satisfied.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice low and steady. “Once you’ve been training for a while, it won’t be an issue.”

Elliot gave a small nod and moved toward the weights, settling into a squat like Adrian had shown him. The leggings tugged with every motion, the tank clung across his chest, and every few reps, he glanced at the mirror, quietly hoping that, in time, he’d start to look a little more masculine…