The Health Club


This story contains episodes of homosexual sex and should not be read by minors, where the legality of such stories is an issue or by those offended by such things.

Copyright by the author, 1997. All rights reserved. Permission to repost this story electronically in a non-commercial venue and to print one copy for personal use is granted, provided the story is printed unaltered (including this notice) and credit to the author ([email protected]) is given. Alteration, excerptation, or reposting or publication of this story for commercial purposes without permission of the author is expressly forbidden.

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John looked down at his stomach in the middle of January and realized it was time to get his ass back into a gym. He had gained about seven or eight pounds and needed to take it off by warm weather. Besides, he had a severe case of "The Januaries" and forced activity seemed to be the only way to shake it.

The rub was, he had let his membership lapse at his local club, and to make matters worse, it had gone bankrupt. Where to go? It had to be convenient, and have hours that fit his schedule. John loved the way exercise made him look, and his body built muscle mass well. The only problem was, John hated exercising.

Wes lived in the same building as John, and John had noticed recently that Wes had really shaped up, lost his stomach and gotten really hard. John frequently saw Wes jogging, or even leaving the building late at night in tight leather pants and a body hugging white t-shirt, an outfit Wes would never have dared to wear a year ago.

So it occurred to John, why not ask Wes where he goes? If it worked magic for Wes, he'd surely be content with a fraction of that success.

John caught Wes on the elevator going the following morning. Wes was wearing his walkman, as he usually seemed to be doing, so it was difficult for John to get his attention. When he finally did, (it seemed as if Wes had just woken up, or something.) Wes brightened when John told him his request.

"I love my gym, John. It's the perfect gym, and not too far away. It's called 'Motivators.'"

"That's just what I need."

"Don't we all? I'm going there now. Why don't I make a call to Dr. Hoff and I'll bring you over as my guest."


"Yeah, he's a psychiatrist, and specializes in helping people get motivated to work out, hence the name. From what you've said, it sounds perfect for you, but he usually doesn't allow prospective members to visit unless he has a little advance notice."

They walked out of the building and Wes went to a pay phone to make the call. "Hi, Dr. Hoff? This is Wes Mather. I have someone I'd like to refer with me. He's a neighbor who lives in my building. Yes...I'm listening. I understand. He'd be perfect. We'll be right over."

"Wes?" John asked as Wes hung up the phone.

"Huh? Oh...he says we can come over now. Do you have a little time for a tour and to talk to Dr. Hoff?"

"Yeah. I have the afternoon off, actually."

"That's perfect. Maybe you'll even get a chance to check out some of the facilities. Let's head on over!" And Wes put his walkman back on and they headed over to Motivators.

When they got there, John felt a little intimidated. Not only did everyone seem in almost prime physical condition, but they all seemed so intent on their workouts. It was only after a disorienting moment John realized that things felt strange because nobody seemed to be talking. All you could hear was the sound of the machines moving along their tracks and the slight buzz of ambient music from the mens' walkmen they wore as they lifted weights.

A rich voice came from around a partition. "You must be Wes' friend. Hello, I'm Dr. Hoff." The voice came from a man in his mid-thirties, well dressed in a good fitting jacket and tie in a european style. John sized Dr. Hoff up quickly. He was a sharpie, an enterpreneur, a shark. The sort of guy who looked great in a double breasted olive suit. The sort of guy who went to med school to do plastic surgery because that's where the money was or else he became an arbitrageur. The sort of guy John secretly envied.

"Welcome to Motivators Gym!" Dr. Hoff continued. "Wes only told me a little about you. We'd be happy to offer you a sample workout today if that would help you come to any sort of decision."

"I don't know. I didn't bring my gym clothes." John was worried about a high pressure sell.

"Not a problem. We keep spare workout clothing for prospectives. We emphasize little extras like that. And..." Dr. Hoff paused, "we're the right place for the guy who wants to get back in shape, but just needs a little extra help sticking with it."

John cracked a smile. "Well, that's me."

Dr. Hoff smiled back with professional ease. "One of the attendants will show you to the locker room. May I speak to you in my office for a moment, Wes?"

Another beautifully chiseled muscle man came up to John and brought him to the locker room. The place was clean and well kept up, but quite spare. No plants, no posters. Just machines and men grimly and assiduously working on them, all of them listening to music to do their workouts.

"I have no workout clothes." John sheepishly explained to the attendant.

"Don't worry. We're used to that with prospectives. Here. These are all clean." John was handed a few gym garments, and the attendant withdrew.

As John put on the tight jockstrap, he felt his cock inadevertantly grow in the restrictive fabric. "Great. All I need is a hard on." He thought to himself. His distress greatened as he saw the thin nylon shorts and tight lycra top he was given by the attendant. "I can't wear this!" he thought, even as he put it on, and felt his nipples harden by the overt sexuality of the outfit. He only wished he looked a little better in it. Well, after all, that was why he was here, wasn't it?

"Even more deeply relaxed, Wes." Dr. Hoff was talking to Wes as he lay in a reclining chair rather like a dentist's. The lights were dimmed in his office, and New Age music was playing in the background. "Deeper and deeper into that wonderful trance state you love so much."

Wes nodded, with a beatific smile on his face. He was so conditioned by this point he began to fall into a trance the moment he sat in the chair, but Dr. Hoff got off on the deepening process anyway.

"You've done very well, Wes. Look at how hot your body has become."

"Thank you Dr. Hoff."

"And who gave you this hot body?"

"You did, Dr. Hoff. Thank you, Dr. Hoff."

"What would you do to thank me, Wes?" The ritual of mind control, repeated ad infinitum. . .

"Anything you asked, Dr. Hoff."


John came out of the locker room feeling rather blobbish and undistinguished indeed. The attendant, noting his mixed discomfort and excitement, gave him a tshirt, which they usually did with prospectives at this point. It didn't really matter, he wouldn't need it soon.

"We usually start new people on aerobic exercise before weight training. A good place to start is the treadmill." the attendant explained, as he walked John into a room with a treadmill, and started to show him how to use it. John got the hang of it quite quickly.

"So I just walk?"

"Yeah, for 20 minutes. It works your cardiovascular system. Nothing better than walking to start." The trainer started to walk away, then stopped and turned. "You know, it's boring as hell to be on that treadmill with nothing to do but walk. Here. Borrow my walkman."


"While you're at it, we have an orientation tape about the club. Why not listen to it now, and kill two birds with one stone?"

And John slipped on the walkman and started on the treadmill.


Dr. Hoff flipped through Wes' dossier as Wes lay in the chair, staring at the play of lights on the ceiling. Wes had been in training about a year and responded beautifully to both physical and mental conditioning. He was one of Dr. Hoff's biggest money makers at this point, and went on calls most evenings. Most of the men at Motivators were quite busy in the evenings, though they didn't recall it.

Dr. Hoff had a decision ahead of him with Wes. One of his biggest clients in Germany had called for another bodyguard. Should he go for a long term profit with Wes or take a lump sum? He looked at Wes, his beautifully conditioned body with a hard chest and washboard stomach and his beautifully conditioned mind, which obeyed his commands without question.

[To be continued?]

© 1997 markjo342 All rights reserved.