Charlotte's Day at the Gym

*Beep! Beep! Beep!*

Charlotte flailed her arm around a bit before clicking the off button on her smartphone. It was currently 2:31am in the morning, and she had to get ready for her scheduled workout at the gym. Now, normally she wouldn't be up at this ungodly hour, but she reserved a spot with a personal trainer and this was the only time he had available.

"Ugh...who even works out at this hour anyway?" Said Charlotte with the sleep still in her eyes.

She lumbered around the room realizing that a shower wasn't going to happen right now, so she lazily threw on her sweats and made her way downstairs. After affixing a bobble (hair tie) in her hair, she clumsily slipped her sneakers on and grabbed her keys for her car. Once on the road, she wondered if she had enough time to grab a coffee from McDonalds. She reasoned that she wouldn't have the energy otherwise, so a quick coffee pit stop was on the agenda. Unfortunately, she got stuck behind someone who's order got messed up, causing her to arrive at the gym 3 minutes late. As she rushed in the door she heard an extremely loud and raspy voice scold her.

"Well, it's about TIME, young lady! Glad to know the world moves according to your clock!"

"I'm so sorry Clyde--"

"MR. FLETCHER!" Said the 87 year-old. "That's MR. Fletcher to you, youngin."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fletcher. I got stuck in the McDonald's drive thru longer than expected. I won't let that happen again."

"You youngins and your restaurant coffee. I make a fresh pot at the gym every morning. You'll be drinking that so that we can start on time in the future."

Charlotte inwardly groaned at the notion of drinking straight black coffee. She much preferred sugary indulgences like her French vanilla lattes. Although, part of the reason she was at the gym was because of these indulgences. Charlotte was 5'2" tall, weighing in at 130lbs. Not fat by any stretch of the imagination, but more pudgy than she wanted to be. Given that she just turned thirty, it was high time she got back to her ideal weight of 120lbs. Now Charlotte was a bit of a novice when it came to gym equipment and working out, so she signed up for a personal trainer to show her the ropes. She wanted to avoid the younger, go-getters who push their clients to insane limits. She had no false illusions about running a marathon or becoming a fitness influencer, she just wanted a relaxed old-fashioned approach towards training. But with Mr. Fletcher's initial introduction, she was a bit leery that this was the case. Mr. Fletcher then marched his way over, grabbed the coffee out of Charlotte's hand and popped the lid open to take a look inside.

"Just as I suspected. Are you trying to sabotage yourself before we even begin."

Charlotte's embarrassment prevented her from formulating a response. Mr. Fletcher then walked out to the water fountain and slowly poured the coffee into the drain. After emptying the cup, he tossed it into the trash and slapped his hands together with vigor.

"Alright, youngin. It's time to make up for lost ground. Onto the scale -- posthaste!"

Now this was no modern, electronic scale -- no! -- this was one of those old-timey beam scales with the sliding weights and all. Charlotte proceeded to step onto the scale as Mr. Fletcher vigorously shook his head.

"The bulky sweats need to go!"

Charlotte was a bit taken a back by this demand.

"You mean--"

Mr. Fletcher pinched her sweatshirt near her elbow with his thumb and pointer finger.

"Just this bulky one on top. It's too heavy. We need accurate measurements, youngin."

Charlotte was a bit peeved by Mr. Fletcher constantly calling her a "youngin," but she figured it's how he referred everyone under a certain age. She then yanked the sweatshirt over her head as she then became quite surprised when she caught her own reflection in the mirror. She had totally forgotten to put on a t-shirt this morning, meaning she was standing all the scale with sports bra in plain view. I mean, it was far from the end of the world, plenty of women wear sports bras in the gyms nowadays. The only concern Charlotte had was old-man Fletcher admonishing her for her "uncouth" appearance.

"130lbs and 6 ounces. We've got a lot of work to do, youngin. Back in my day, if a woman your height was over 110lbs, her prospects for finding a husband we're zilch."

Normally, Charlotte would've been incensed by a remark like this, but she decided to take a different approach.

"Well, Marilyn Monroe did well enough with her shapely body, I think I'll be fine."

"Enough with the sass, youngin. Time to jump some rope."

Before Charlotte had a chance to put her sweatshirt back on, Mr. Fletcher shooed her towards the jump rope section. Charlotte figured it wasn't a big deal, since her sweatshirt would've become drenched in sweat rather quickly.

"Alright, youngin. You'll be jumping for 30 seconds with a 15 second break. We'll repeat this for a total of five minutes. On my mark."

Charlotte didn't realize they were going to jump into the metaphorical pool head first, but that's exactly what was happening. And now she had to mentally prepare herself for a grueling workout.

"Go!"

Charlotte started jumping rope as the first thirty seconds went by surprisingly fast. Unfortunately, the 15 second break went by in the blink of an eye. This was the first time she engaged in interval training, and it definitely showed by the three minute mark. She was already bending down at the knees gasping for air.

"Go!"

The next thirty seconds felt like an eternity -- in fact, she could already feel her legs shaky by the end. Another 15 seconds went by in a flash as she found herself jumping once more. After the final break, she barely finished out the set as she panted vigorously for air.

"Three minute break and then we'll do some push ups."

Charlotte merely kept her hands on her knees as she tried her best to catch her breath. Mr. Fletcher then tapped her on the shoulder with his left hand as he held a cup of water in his right hand.

"Drink up, youngin. Gotta keep your strength up."

Charlotte graciously accepted the water as she gulped it down in one swig. She then noticed that Mr. Fletcher's eyes looked rather cloudy.

"Mr. Fletcher. Is there something wrong with your eyes."

"Glaucoma. Feels like I'm constantly looking through a blurry tunnel. I mostly just focus my attention on people's faces."

Perhaps this is why he wasn't offended by her working out in her sports bra. He simply hadn't noticed it.

"So...you can't read what's on my shirt." Said Charlotte as she tested out her theory.

"Youngin! I ain't got time to read people's shirts! I'm here to whip people into shape, and with that, it's time for some pushups."

Charlotte followed Mr. Fletcher's commands perfectly, until she finally collapsed to the ground after the last set. She was positively exhausted from the grueling regimen, embarrassed by how out of shape she was. Flipping over to her back, she let her tummy and breasts heave up and down as she inhaled deeply. The putrid heat made her skin feel sticky and gross. She'd give anything for an ice-cold current to waft over her body and rejuvenate her. Mr. Fletcher then returned with another cup of water as his stern expression remained unchanged.

"Come on, now. Quit wasting time and stand up."

"Mr. Fletcher...c-could you turn on the air conditioner? It's sweltering in here."

"Youngin! You don't know what sweltering is -- now let's go."

Charlotte pressed herself up, noticing that her legs were the hottest/sweatiest part of her body. If she could just release some of that heat, it would alleviate her discomfort. She then came up with an erotically dangerous thought. "Perhaps I could just take my pants off, and Mr. Fletcher won't notice." Thought Charlotte.

Realizing that Mr. Fletcher was busy setting up for the next exercise, Charlotte slipped her finger into her waistband and hoisted the pants downward to her feet. With her shoes on, she had to dance around to wiggle them off of her feet, but she eventually got them off. And now she was standing in the gym with just her underwear and a sports bra. She then peered over at clock, seeing that it was 3:27am.

"Mr. Fletcher, does anyone else use the gym at this hour?"

She probably should have asked that question before taking her pants off.

"As if! I've owned this gym for 49 years, and no one ever comes in before six."

"If that's the case, why couldn't we have done this workout at say...five?"

Mr. Fletcher took on a stern face as his clouded eyes appeared to be looking off in the distance.

"Look here, youngin. My training -- my rules. You don't like it, there's the door!" As he pointed over at the exit. "Now, we doing this or what?!"

Charlotte simply nodded as the two made their way towards the pull-up bar. While making their short trek, Charlotte couldn't help but notice her curves in the wall mirrors. Though she was attempting to shed some pounds, her weight distributed nicely on her frame. It was in all the right places -- particularly in her nice round butt. And she could feel her plump derriere bouncing nicely as she approached the pull up bar.

"Alright. I need three sets of five pull ups."

This was going to be a challenge to say the least. Charlotte had never done more than four pull ups, so doing five for three sets sounded like an impossible task. Nevertheless, reasoning with Mr. Fletcher was out of the question, so she would just have to attempt them and hope for the best. Thought sheer grit and determination, she completed the first five pulls. It was a feat she was quite proud, but her arms felt like absolute jello. In fact, she didn't know if she could do another two after her minute long break.

"Alright. Next set."

Charlotte jumped onto the bar and banged out the next two in surprising fashion; however, there was no chance in hell she was going to get her chin above the bar for the third one. Her arms started shaking uncontrollably as her fingers began slipping from the bar. Her fingers soon relented as she fell to her feet and subsequently collapsed to her knees.

"Is that all you got?" Said a disappointed Mr. Fletcher

Out of breath, Charlotte merely nodded her head.

"You know my vision's blurry, youngin. Now I'll ask again: is that all you got?"

"Y-yes, sir." Replied Charlotte with barely any fluid in her mouth.

"You sound dehydrated already, I'll grab some more water."

Mr. Fletcher filled a cup of water to the absolute brim before bringing it over to Charlotte. This next part is a bit ambiguous, but whether it was due to Mr. Fletcher's poor vision or Charlotte's tired arms, the cup missed its mark and spilled all over the girl's neck and chest. Charlotte's initial reaction was, surprisingly, pure jubilation. Her body was drenched in sweat, so the cool sensation was the rejuvenation she was looking for.

"Aw, Fudgesicle Tuesday. Sorry about that. I'll go grab a towel."

As Mr. Fletcher stuttered off, Charlotte took a moment to admire her heaving body in the mirror. The water on her chest pronounced the bulging nature of her boobs. While they were more or less concealed before, their curves were on full display. Add in the perky nipples into the equation, and it didn't leave much to the imagination. She honestly should've felt slightly embarrassed by how she looked, but given Mr. Fletcher's poor vision, she felt completely secure in how she looked. Here she was, working out in her bra and panties in front of an old man, and she didn't have any fear in the least. And with the way the water accentuated her boobs, its as if she was now topless. Mr. Fletcher then returned with two towels as he tossed one toward Charlotte and used the other one to dry off the floor.

"If I was you, I would take off that brown sweatshirt of yours, otherwise you'll suffer a heat stroke."

Charlotte shouldn't have been as shocked as she was, but the realization was quite amazing. Mr. Fleckenstein thought that she had put her sweatshirt back on after she got weighed in the morning. Meaning, he had no idea that she was working out in her underwear this entire time. Obviously, if he had, she's certain he would've scolded her quite some time ago. Perhaps he would've even banned her from the gym altogether, given his old-world sensibilities. But not only was she in the clear, she was given a license to take off more clothing. That being said, surely she wouldn't push her luck any further and risk exposing her breasts?

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm quite fine in my sweatshirt."

"Yougin, I've seen one too many heatstrokes in my time. And with the way you're breathing, you need to take off that sweatshirt now."

Charlotte knew full and well there was no taking her way out of this. In her 40 minutes with the 87 year-old, she learned he was way too stubborn to take "no" for an answer. She then placed her delicate fingers on the top of the zipper for her sports bra, pausing slightly to see where Mr. Fletcher's eyes were pointed. Again, he had the look of someone looking at something far off in the distance. Quite typical for someone with severe glaucoma. As she slowly pulled the zipper down, there were no noticeable signs of arousal or stimulation from the old man. If he was faking his vision impairment, he had the greatest poker face known to man.

As Charlotte pulled the zipper to the bottom, she briefly paused with her hands holding the cups in front of her breasts. She then peeled them away as her beautiful breasts came into full view. They beautifully sat on her chest as the areola was a tanned peach color -- almost like a warm honey. The nipples themselves were still wet from the water and very much erect. She then took the bra, walked it over to the scale where her sweatshirt was and set it down. As she walked back to Mr. Fletcher, she caught her reflection in the nearby mirrors. Her breasts bounced ever so softly with each step, and she couldn't help but be turned on by what she was doing. Sure, deep down, she felt some level of embarrassment; however, the non-reaction from the old-man gave her a teflon feel. She could get away with anything!

"Alright, youngin. Time for sit ups. I'll hold your feet down."

Upon lying down on the ground, Charlotte realized how crazy this was. She was lying on the ground -- nearly naked -- with only her underwear to cover her, as her 87 year-old instructor held down her feet.

"On my mark...

Charlotte had a quick choice to make: 1) she could cross her arms in front of her while performing the sit ups, or 2) she could put them behind her head with her elbows flared out.

"Annnnd, go!"

Charlotte lifted her upper body to her knees with her arms behind her head -- leaving her breasts completely exposed. After each rep, Mr. Fletcher would shout out the number. In the midst of counting, he never once noticed the bouncing breasts that were mere inches away from his face. Charlotte had stared at him directly each time, noticing that his eyes were downward at the floor while counting. She wondered if he would be able to notice her nakedness if she drew her attention towards her chest. Now being almost naked was one thing, but attempting to draw attention to yourself was just asking for it. But something about the adrenaline and endorphins pumping through her blood made her cough in a very deliberate fashion. Mr. Fletcher's head jerked upwards as Charlotte raised up for another sit-up with her breasts on full display. She arched her back and even pulled her elbows out more to really emphasize the nakedness of her chest.

"No, dawdling, youngin. You've got 12 more to go."

She couldn't believe it -- she was utterly flabbergasted. The old man was either an eunuch, or he was truly blind as a bat. She had just gyrated her breasts right in front of his face -- her beautiful, young breasts, just mere inches away, and he had no visible reaction. As she raised her body for each subsequent sit up, she exhaled louder and louder, attempting to make her breasts as prominent as they could be. With the last sit up in the books, she lay on her back as Mr. Fletcher went to fetch her some more water.

"You sounded exasperated at the end there, better drink up."

Charlotte rose to her feet, making no attempt to cover up her nearly naked body. She then grabbed onto the water and began to sip it in a seductive fashion. Not overly seductive, but seductive enough in effort to draw attention to herself. While she was exhausted at the beginning of her workout, the surge of adrenaline really gave her a boost in energy. She felt like she could handle anything Mr. Fletcher threw her way.

"Next up we've got handstands."

What an exercise to choose next. This would showcase literally every inch of her body with no cover whatsoever. Knowing this full and well, Charlotte couldn't help but push her limits to the maximum.

"Mr. Fletcher, m-my pants are a bit too baggy and may inhibit my ability to do a proper handstand. Would you mind if I took them off?"

The old-man was definitely a bit flustered by this request, had he known that a woman with her breasts exposed was standing in front of him, he probably would've fainted on the spot. Charlotte thusly decided to soften the blow.

"I'm wearing shorts under my sweats, so it's not like I'd be in my underwear."

"No wonder you've been overheated this whole time. By all means, youngin. By all means."

Charlotte bit her bottom lip as she mouthed the words, "thank you," before slipping her underwear right off of her body and onto the ground. She proudly grabbed her underwear from the ground and walked them over to her pile of clothes. She daintily dropped them on top as she pivoted around and sashayed her way back to her trainer. As her inner thighs rubbed against each other, she couldn't help but feel stimulated by the situation. Her pussy began to throb as she constantly reminded herself that she was completely naked in this public gym. Though the old-man was nearly blind as a bat, another patron could walk in at any moment, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable. Yet the thrill was simply too much! She wanted to savor every last moment of her indecency. She felt like such a bad girl and even though she didn't want to be seen, part of her wished that something would happen -- something that would give her a thrill.

"Handstand against the wall, youngin."

"I can actually balance without the wall, if that's fine with you, Mr. Fletcher."

"All the better! On my mark."

Mr. Fletcher gave the go-ahead as Charlotte went into a handstand. Here she was, a young woman who just turned thirty years-old and she was doing a naked handstand in a public gym. She could hear Mr. Fletcher counting down, but it sounded like background noise. Her focus was completely on her state of undress. In fact, her pussy was pulsating so vigorously that she felt the juices running down her belly button. After the handstand was over, she took notice of the secretions on her belly. This was truly beyond anything she had imagined happening today.

"With that done, we just got squats and a 5 minute cool down on the treadmill."

Mr. Fletcher led her over to a matted area where the squats were to be done. Because Charlotte was preoccupied with her own reflection, she accidentally bumped into the old-man's arm with her belly. And it just happened to be the spot where her fluids were. For the first time since getting naked, she felt an intense surge of fear and doubt. "It's over! It's fucking over! This is so embarrassing, why the fuck did I push myself this far! I'm such an idiot. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" Thought Charlotte frantically. However, Mr. Fletcher merely grabbed a nearby hand towel and said,

"I didn't think you had it in you, but you've got moxie, youngin. That being said, I like to keep this place spotless, so make sure to wipe off all you sweat from the equipment."