Policing the Gym

[6 Word Request: Size transfer curse enforces gym etiquette]

Some skinny nobody tapped Lenny on the shoulder between sets. “Hey man,” he said timidly, shuffling his feet. “Your rest period between those sets was a little long, so…”

Lenny eyed up the little pipsqueak: 5-foot-nothing, lighter than Lenny’s usual morning dump. The big bodybuilder flashed a patronizing smile. “You looking to get on this bench?” He thumbed back at the 315 pounds he was repping for 20. “By all means, hop on, bro.”

“No, no,” the guy said, swallowing and starting to back away. “I-it’s just, gym rules… taking too much time between sets is against the rules.”

Lenny had his phone in his right hand--he’d been in the midst of posing an Instagram pic when the skinny dude had approached--so he tilted it to include his “new friend” in the pic. “Smile, bro. You just got bumped up to ‘influencer!’”

The little guy held up his hands to block his face but Lenny snapped the picture anyway. He smirked as the little man shuffled away, his head held down. “Oh, I’m definitely posting this,” he said, taking a look at his tan skin, his amazing chest pump, his perfectly spiked hair. Having the little guy in the pic just made him look that much more beastly!

Next up for chest day was a nice little giant set. He tossed his sweaty towel over the pec deck after a quick 40 rep warmup, then strutted over to an incline bench where he pressed 80 pound dumbells easily, tossing them to the floor with a growl as he failed at the 30th rep. Then he strutted over to the dip bars where he slung the weighted chain over his shoulders before 20 slow, drawn out reps. He snapped a nice selfie as he wiped the sweat from his bro, heading back to the pec deck.

“A-a-are you using this?” asked what looked like an underfed midget with a stopwatch around his neck. From the clipboard in the man’s hand, Lenny assumed he was a coach, but he was shocked anyone would pay such a skin-and-bones-looking guy to train them. Lenny was even more shocked when he looked UP at the client, a 6’5” BEAST whose massive, veiny muscles were squeezed into a compression suit. Lenny looked from giant client to mini coach a few times before responding.

“Yeah, I’m doing a giant set,” Lenny said, gesturing at the towel. “That’s what that means, y’know.” He rolled his eyes at the big client, who looked away, clearly uncomfortable for some reason.

If I was that big, Lenny thought, I’d just swing my weight around and get what I want.What the hell had this monster so spooked?

“Well, just so you know,” said the little coach, “t-there’s new rules around here. I know you’re new… didn’t you watch the videos?”

Lenny remembered the videos, sent to his phone to watch before he digitally signed the contract that started his membership. He had just fast-forwarded through them. He’d been to a gym before. He knew what to do there.

“Yeah, whatever, bro. Look, let me finish my next set and this will be all yours.” He knew their eyes were on him the whole time; maybe the big fella would change his mind about working with such a lightweight after he saw what a real bodybuilder could do?

Later in the locker room, Lenny strutted from the shower to his locker, patting himself dry before tossing his towel over the bench. He hit some poses in the mirror, well aware that all the other guys in there were staring. Why wouldn’t they gawk? Lenny thought to himself, hitting a most muscular that left his dick swinging between his big legs. All these guys are underdeveloped little wimps! Let all this muscle inspire him. Just before relinquishing the pec deck, he let out a nasty fart. From the heat, he knew it was going to be rank--his preworkout firing out some serious protein gas. Something to remember me by, he thought as he sauntered away.

On his way out the door, he paused by a poster of his favorite bodybuilder, Ian Thames. Lenny took a moment to admire his idol, the big rhinocerous-sized muscle freak doing triceps pushdowns in the pic. “Hey, bro,” he said to the built guy behind the counter. “When does Ian work out here?”

“Terry” (as his nametag read) said, “He was working out today. He just left actually.”

Lenny chuckled. “No way, bro. I would’ve seen him.” He glanced back at his hero--he looked like a cube of mass! How many guys at that size had such perfect symmetry? That monster looked like he was built; no way a guy with that kind of freaky mass was born. Ian’s traps looked like they were swallowing his whole head! His delts were so swollen it made his tattoo--a football in front of crossed swords--look like it was jumping out of the poster! God, just looking at Ian Thames made Lenny want to turn around and do another entire workout.

“I assure you, he was here,” said Terry. Lenny rolled his eyes. He would have to keep an eye out tomorrow. Maybe he was just a little too focused on his own pump.

Lenny’s boyfriend Bob called as soon as he hopped in the car. He considered declining the call--he felt like jerking it to some porn and just passing out--but he shrugged and answered it. Maybe he could get his dick sucked later. It would be nice to glance down and see his boyfriend’s big muscular back as he bobbed up and down on his dick.

“Nice selfie today,” Bob grunted. “Who was that little dude?”

It took Lenny a moment to remember. “Oh, some guy who told me I was taking too long between sets. Guy has no idea what it’s like to be a instagram fitness personality.”

Bob chuckled. “Yeah, that guy looked like he was wearing everything two sizes too big. Makes him look even scrawnier.”

“Did you see the little shit? I guarantee he can’t find things to wear unless he goes shopping for doll clothes.”

“Loved his tattoo, too. Makes me laugh when little guys get ink thinking it makes them look tough.”

Lenny paused. “I don’t think I noticed his tattoo. Lemme check it out.” He swiped to the selfie from earlier in the day--damn, did his pecs look amazing!--and noticed the tiny dude’s ink. “The fuck?” he said. Maybe he wasn’t seeing it right, so he zoomed in: a football with two crossed swords behind it.

“Weird,” Lenny said. “Guess there’s another Ian Thames fan kicking around the gym,” he thought. He headed back to his apartment to wait for Bob to come over, wondering how creeped out Ian must feel seeing his tattoo copied by a guy who looked like he’d never lifted a weight in his life.

*

Lenny’s preworkout was already making his skin tingle by the time he headed through the front door. Terry came out from the desk as the glass double doors swung shut.

“Leonard! Good to see you, buddy. Come into my office for a moment.”

Lenny cocked his head to the side; whatever the fuck this was, if it took more than 15 minutes he was going to pitch a fit. Terry was a tall, broad dude, packed with muscle like a competitive powerlifter, but no man in the world was big enough to withstand Lenny’s untapped rage!

A chunky balding man in his 40s sat in Terry’s office as Lenny walked in. The portly little guy stroked his moustache anxiously, smiling politely at Lenny but darting away from direct eye contact.

“Have a seat,” Terry said.

“Nah,” Lenny said, folding his arms. “I’ll stand.”

Terry shrugged. “Lenny, this is Marvin. Marvin, meet Lenny.” The moustachioed chubster gave a weak wave. “Well, Lenny, it seems you ticked off a number of alarm bells here yesterday.” Terry held up a tablet and started to read off Lenny’s offenses: “Prolonged rest period between sets; use of multiple machines during peak gym hours; unnecessary nudity in the locker room; unabashed flatulence.”

Lenny rolled his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me? Those little shits squealed?”

Terry smirked. “Lenny, did you read any of the materials we sent you went you signed up?” He held up his hands. “Don’t bother, you clearly didn’t. FYI, that’s no excuse. We have strict rules here, and we have next level tech monitoring literally every inch of this place for insubordination. And since you’ve been red-flagged, you have two choices. We can terminate your membership…”

Lenny scoffed. “I mean, this whole thing is bullshit and I’ve got one foot out the door anyway. You guys said you had thirty pro athletes on staff here! I haven’t seen a damned one! This place really doesn’t live up to what you promised. Far as I’m concerned, your little contract is null and void.”

Terry shrugged. “Well, that’s the thing. Some of the biggest offenders were our pros. Unexpectedly, when we implemented our new system, 18 of our high-profile clients got red-flagged. Lucky for them it’s not a permanent situation. If you choose to stick around, you’ll see them again, exactly as you expected them.”

Terry looked down at Marvin, wondering how he fit into all this. “Well, what’s the alternative?”

Terry opened a drawer and produced two chrome spheres. He tossed one to Lenny, who caught it in midair. “The fuck…?” Lenny said as he examined it. It was cold and weightless. He could see his reflection warped along its polished surface.

“Marvin, if you’ll take the other,” he said, handing the other to the silent man in the room. “Now, this should only take a--”

Lenny’s whole body felt numb. Then his shorts fell down. He started to tilt to the side--his duffel bag felt like it had bricks in it! Lenny stumbled around, his feet tangled, and looked up. Everything was blurry. “What’d you… do…” he slurred. His voice sounded different… higher. He cleared his throat. “Wait, what the fuck!”

“Now, Marvin, you’re welcome to a trainer to help you get used to your new state, but if you just want to get out there and have some fun…”

Lenny dropped his duffel bag and rubbed his eyes. He yanked up his shorts and looked, shocked, at the width of the waistband. There was no way he could fill up these shorts!

Then he glanced down at his legs: bony, wobbly-kneed, pale… He didn’t recognize them as his own at first. He dropped his shorts and patted his legs, then looked at his slender hands. His tank top felt like a poncho. He peeked inside the billowy tank and started shaking when he saw the scrawny physique underneath.

“What the fuck!” Lenny shrieked. He stepped out of his shoes (without even untying them) and stumbled toward the desk with the unsteady gait of a newborn foal. He froze in his tracks when he saw an ogrish man standing where Marvin had been: more than a foot taller than Lenny now, thick and solid. The big man licked his moustache and groped at his newfound muscle. Every movement shredded the stretched-to-capacity clothing further.

“Marvin, if you’d like a trainer to guide you through your first day with your new bulk, we’ll gladly assign someone,” Terry said, admiring Marvin’s sudden size, “but if you’d like to go out there and just give it a whirl on your own, feel free. You’ll find your endurance and durability has skyrocketed as well. You’d have to go way out of your way to injure yourself now. You, on the other hand…” Terry directed his attention to Lenny.

“Fine, I fucking quit!” Lenny screeched. “I’m out! Fuck this gym! Change me back and I’ll never be back to this shithole!”

Terry grinned. “You walk out that door now, you void our contract, which means our obligation to return what was stolen from you is void as well. Ready to live the rest of your life like that or do you want to earn your size back?”

Lenny charged at Terry, who, without flinching, flicked a switch. Lenny felt like a tazer had struck him: he found himself rooted to the spot, his body numb and paralyzed, as his perspective slowly dwindled down further. As his eyes passed below the desk, he yelped, and the change stopped.

Lenny’s tanktop now slipped over his shoulders, leaving the scrawny near-midget totally naked. He finally dropped the sphere and slapped to hands over his little nub of a cock, backing away in a panic.

Marvin, on the other hand, had swollen up with size. From a beefy lineman-style build before, his musculature had blossomed. Now he had big bouncy pecs, wide, round shoulders and a cobbled abdomen. He, too, was naked, as the remaining tatters of his clothing floated to the ground in decimated wisps, but he did nothing to cover the big monster swinging between his quads.

“Hey man, I’m sorry it worked out like this,” Marvin said in a voice that sounded like an engine starting. The grin on his face belied his apology, as did his tongue darting out from his wide-mouthed grin every time he flexed a new muscle and watched it bunch up huge.

“Stop! Stop stop stop…” Lenny said, realizing he couldn’t bull his way through this. “Fuck, you made him bigger than I ever was!”

Terry nodded, putting the two spheres back in his desk. “And you’re smaller than he ever was. Mouth of again and we can go further.”

Terry directed Marvin to a back room where he started rifling through some XXXL-sized gym-wear. He strutted out afterward in tight purple shorts and a pink stringer tank that hugged his pecs but left his nipples exposed. He flexed an arm and took a sniff of his own armpit, licking his lips. Lenny was horrified.

“What about me!” he cried.

Terry pointed to a small cabinet. Lenny found a miniature track suit that was still far too big for him, but it was better to cover up than to leave his skeletal body exposed for others to see.

The office door opened and the scrawny guy from Lenny’s selfie the day before walked in--although, it took Lenny a moment to recognize him, since he was eye level with the little man’s nipples now.

“Ian,” Terry said as Marvin skipped out the door, “the systems say you’ve earned back 40% of your size.” He tossed a metal sphere to Ian and the man started sprouting up. His body filled out a little, now looking like an underwear model. His face now had some breadth to it, solid and angular like an athlete. He was more recognizable as Lenny’s hero now, although he was still a far cry from the superheavyweight mammoth in the poster outside.

Ian’s tank top--which had been baggy when he walked in--now looked like a belly shirt, although he sighed as he ran his hands over his stomach and felt some muscles there. He flexed his arms and looked relief to see some thickness. He looked like a built soccer player, which was certainly an upgrade from the whelp he had been when Lenny first met him.

“Holy shit…” whispered Lenny as he realized he had bullied his idol the day before. “Man, I had no idea that was you!”

“I tried to warn you,” Ian said. “You want me to break him in?” he said to Terry. “Show him the ropes?”

“Yes please,” Terry said. “And try to remember, what’s been returned can be taken away. You’re always just one mistake from being a little guy again. Understood?”

Ian stared at the floor and nodded. He grabbed Lenny by the hood of his track suit and guided him out the door.

“Task one,” he said, “is to reorganize all of the weights in the gym. If a 25 is covering a 10, fix it. Make sure everything gets to its proper place in the proper order. Then we’ll work on wiping down sweaty machines.”

Lenny couldn’t believe how easily the passing gym-goers were dismissing him. One guy shoved him out of the way like he was nothing. “God damn!” he cried. “How long do I have to be like this?”

Ian shrugged. “Until you earn your size back. They have a video tutorial that will teach you what to say when people in your everyday life don’t recognize you. They’ll e-mail your boss at work and everything.”

Lenny froze as he saw a hulking physique shoulder through the front doors. It was Bob! He watched his brutish boyfriend stomp to the front.

“Yeah, my boyfriend trains here,” Bob said, bouncing his pecs as he flirted with the guy behind the front desk. “I can’t wait to surprise him here. He said this place is the tits, so… guess we’ll find out, right?”

Lenny noticed a 2 ½ pound plate discarded under an incline bench. He dropped to his knees to pick it up as he watched Bob enter the gym like he owned the place. Without a doubt, his cocky, entitled boyfriend would break a dozen rules his first day there. He knew he should warn him.

Or, he considered as he caught a whiff of a fart that he recognized as his boyfriend’s immediately, he could just let things go as they would. Maybe he wouldn’t be the smallest guy getting into bed that night...