My smart watch vibrates to alert me to a text, with my phone itself buried somewhere in the depths of my bag. My stomach jumps. Butch hasn’t texted me since we arranged the camping stuff last week, but for some reason I’m fully convinced it will be from him, even though it’s way more likely to be Juno asking me to bring them coffee to the lab when I get to campus later.
The text isn’t from JunoorButch though. It’s not actually a text at all. It’s a notification from an app I’m sure I didn’t re-download after my last dismal experience on it.
“Fucking Juno,” I mutter to myself, stopping on the sidewalk to dig through my bag, pushing aside my textbooks and clothes until my fingers brush along the smooth edge of my phone. I pull it out, and sure enough, I have not one, butseveralnotifications from the M4M app.
I know for a fact I deleted this app last year after giving it a try and getting messages fromwaytoo many chasers. I shudder at the creepy reminder. Why in the good god damn hell would Juno re-download this cursed app? And not just download it, they clearly must have reactivated my profile too. In my head, I compose a grumpy text to send to Juno while I open the app so I can deactivate my profile again before I delete it.
It opens to the message tab and, surprisingly, the messages seem pretty normal this time around. Last time it seemed like almost everyone’s opening line was to ask me about my genitals, or to send me pics of theirs. But these DMs seem borderline normal.
CUBSFAN69: Hey, man, nice arms ;)
THE_SAUSAGE_KING_OF_CHICAGO: dude, you’re cute, where have you been hiding?
RICCO-NOT-SO-SUAVE: We should hit the gym together sometime…
The gym? Nice arms?
“Fucking Juno,” I mutter again, closing the messages and navigating to my profile where it turns out Juno has uploaded several new photos of me. One that they must have taken sneakily while I was cooking breakfast without my shirt lastweek, one where I was jokingly flexing for them, and one I took myself in the mirror dressed in my gym clothes that I did not intend to post anywhere. They also added working out to my interests.
I roll my eyes and scroll down to the settings tab where I’ll be able to deactivate this stupid thing again. Another message comes through before I get the chance. It’s another nice, flirtatious comment about working up a sweat together sometime.
I hesitate with my finger over the “deactivate” button, nibbling on my bottom lip. Sure, I’m hung up on Butch right now, and yeah, these guys are still probably just fuckbois, even if they’re not chaser fuckbois. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to leave it for now. I mute the notifications instead of deactivating my profile, and close out of the app.
Maybe it’s shallow, but it feels kind of nice to be objectified for my burgeoning muscles. It’s affirming. It feelsmanly. It’s… fun. I walk a little faster the rest of the way to Sweat, with a new bounce in my step.
“Morning, Rocky,” Silas greets me as I step inside.
“Rocky!” Fender hoots from a treadmill.
“Heard you upped your game on the leg press. Way to go, man.” AJ leans over the front desk and offers me a fist bump.
When did I becomeone of the guyshere? Damn, it feels nice though. I grin and take the fist bump, resisting the urge to downplay my achievement by telling AJ that it wasn’t much weight or how sore my legs still are today. It was a new record for me, and that’s what matters. And the soreness just means new muscles are forming. I’ll be crushing watermelons between my thighs before you know it. Okay, maybe more like juicing oranges, butstill, it’s progress.
“New day, new gains. Right, Rocky?” I have no idea how a man Butch’s size managed to sneak up behind me, but my breath catches at the sound of his voice and my heart pounds.
Is he going to treat me differently now that he knows I’m trans? Are things going to be weird at all? His hand collides with my ass, and I yelp, my face heating and my cock stiffening instantly.
“No slacking, dude. Get your ass on the treadmill for your warm-up.”
“Do you spank all of your clients?” I grumble to cover the arousal that’s rushing through me, and rub my stinging ass cheek while I look at him over my shoulder, hoping that tone hides any trace of how horny I am.
“Only the ones who show up late and waste the first few minutes of their session.” He winks at me.
“Maybe I should start using that tactic on Slater,” AJ says with a laugh.
“Why do I get the feeling that you trying to spank Slater would just turn into a wrestling match?” Callan chuckles.
Fender hops off his treadmill and leans against the handrest with a filthy grin.
“Oh, hell yeah. Please tell me you and Slate wrestle each other to decide who tops every time.”
AJ blushes but doesn’t answer, which makes Callan and Fender both hoot with laughter.
“Damn, that’s kind of hot,” Butch mutters quietly, flashing me a smile as we make our way over to the treadmills for our warm-up.
I give a quiet laugh that I’m sure sounds like agreement. And I’m notdisagreeingthat it’s pretty hot to picture Slater and AJ wrestling naked before they fuck, but Butch’s comment is just a reminder that there’s no way I’m the kind of guy he would everbe interested in. If I tried to wrestle him before sex, I’d probably end up injured.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop me from imagining Butch’s big, naked, sweaty body pinning me down, a playful smile on his lips as he challenges me to break free of his hold. My knees quake and I grab the handrails as I hop up onto the treadmill, doing my best to keep myself from face-planting and humiliating myself.
