Page 74 of The Titan and the Trainer

“Alright,” Callum said, gesturing to the Vacunaut. “Into the suit. We need to stimulate the blood flow for your abdominal definition.”

“Stimulate my blood flow, hey!” Julian snorted.. “Don’t need any help there…” he said, stripping off his clothes, proudly waving his erection, as if to prove his blood flow was perfectly fine.

“Yes, thanks, we’ve all seen it,” Callum joked.

Callum eyed him up, admiring his happy trail that flowed from his belly button down to his dick. Callum’s dick responded, showing just how much he admired it.

“Come on, old man, let’s get you in the suit,” he said.

“Less of the old,” replied Julian. “You know I’ve only ever tried this once when it was installed, but it was so difficult to get on, on my own, I gave up. I could hardly ask Martha or Blake to come and help me when I’m butt naked.”

“Yes I get that,” Callum acknowledged.

Julian started pulling on the neoprene with Callum’s help. It was a tight, awkward fit that required Callum to help pull, whilst at the same time zipping him in. When the suit reached his hips, there was a moment of confusion as to where to put Julian’s sizeable genitals.

“You are too big. Where the hell is it all supposed to go?” Callum really didn’t know what to do with them.

“I have no idea. I think you just push them down the top of a leg, I guess,” Julian suggested.

“Okay then, brace yourself, Effie.”

Julian took a mock deep breath, as Callum took hold of his prize assets, trying to compact them as best he could into the top of one leg of the suit.

“That feels nice,” he said, and Callum could feel the instant rush of blood in his hand.

“Stop it. There’s zero space in this suit for your junk even without it being stiff. Think of anything that’s a boner killer, quick!”

Julian closed his eyes, and his dick shrank a little in Callum’s hand. He had to point it downwards whilst tucking his balls underneath against his right leg in the suit; it was quite complicated.

After some wrestling, they managed to get the suit over his hips, up his chest, arms in, and finally zipped the neck. Callum plugged it in, and as the vacuum pressure began to hiss, the suit shrank tightly around Julian’s frame, highlighting every curve and contour of his body with a clinical precision. It was snug like vac-packed fruit or fish at the market.

Callum stepped back, trying to maintain his professional trainer face, but the vacuum suction left absolutely nothing to the imagination. “Wow,” he blurted out, a laugh escaping before he could stop it. “The suit doesn't just show your muscle tone, Julian; it’s... uh... definitely high definition.”

Callum stepped forward, giving Julian’s genitals a little rub. “Look, it’s meat and two veg, vac-packed for freshness!” He laughed.

Julian looked down at the unmistakable bulges of his cock and balls, highlighted by the shiny blue suit. He looked back at Callum, a wicked, boyish grin breaking his expression. “It’s a very honest piece of equipment, Callum. And, yes, it’s fresh. Cheeky bugger!”

“Clearly,” Callum laughed, shaking his head as he checked the pressure gauges.

“I hope Men’s Fitness appreciates all this effort.”

Julian chuckled, the sound muffled by the soft hiss of the machine. As the suit sucked the last remnants of air out, it felt like it also removed the tension of the last few days between them, since the discussion about The Iron Works.

In this high-tech room, they were back to their baseline, the trainer and the Titan; the sweat and the laughter.

Callum made Julian do thirty minutes on the treadmill whilst the suit did its work. When they finished and carefully unzipped him, Julian was wet with sweat, and Callum noted that his abs and obliques had never looked so good, so it had worked.

***

Later that night, the lights inside The Vault were a predatory crimson, pulsing in time with a bassline so heavy it felt like a physical weight against Callum’s ribs. He was perched on his podium, slick with sweat and neon reflection, wearing his usual harness and black leather shorts.

Tony, the manager, signalled him down during a track transition. “Cal, VIP Suite One. Someone just dropped five figures to have the room, and they insisted on you specifically.”

Callum froze. Suite One was the ‘Dark Suite’, a barely used, soundproofed bunker of black velvet, leather and chrome that rarely saw use because of its ridiculous price tag. It was the kind of room where the no-touch rule was abandoned, provided the tips were high enough. Apart from the leather sofas, a low table and a pole, the only other thing in there was a glass bowl filled with condoms and lube sachets. It was clear what went on in there. Callum knew some of the other dancers were more liberal than he was and had sex for money in there, but he never had.

He thought, what would Julian think? He wouldn’t normally do something like this, but the money was useful. He would ensure it was only dancing and nothing more. The other guys might be happy going further, but he wasn’t.

“I’ll do it, Tony, but I’m just dancing. Definitely no extras,” he said.