Gym Girl Interrupted

This story was originally written for the

YAY TEAM: The Sex & Sports Author Organized Challenge 2024<

in June 2024.

=========

Candy was feeling really good today. Her outfit was cute and sexy, and her makeup game was totally on point.

She braided her charcoal hair in girly pigtails. She put on a skimpy sports bra, showcasing her large and round boobs that were worth every penny she had spent on them. Below, she had her flat midriff enticingly exposed, with hints of taut abdominal muscles but steering well clear of anything that'd resemble an ugly six-pack. She'd shimmied her bubble butt into a pair of scandalously short booty shorts, displaying all of her smooth and toned legs as she strode confidently through the gym.

This was going to be a great workout! The tens of thousands of Candy's followers would agree with her without a doubt.

She claimed an unused squat rack, hanging her Hello Kitty towel on its frame. She backed out a few steps and set down a small tripod for her iPhone. Camera pointing directly at the rack, she went to put the weighty 25-pound plates on either side of the barbell, groaning as she hefted each one. Safety clips securely latched, she then wiggled under the bar and placed her hands on either side.

"Light weight, baby," she quipped, straightening up and shifting the heavy ensemble onto her upper back.

The first rep went down great, smooth and controlled, her bubble butt sticking out enticingly as Candy reached the final stretch of the downward movement. Then, just as she was about to rebound — at the lowest, sexiest, most cheek-spreadingly obscene part of the squat — she spied in the mirror the most unwelcome of sights.

Some huge guy had just walked between her and the camera. Right through the frame, ruining the entire shot!

A gasp escaped her throat. The absolute gall on this loser!

"Hey!" Candy called to him, before she even re-racked the barbell. "What do you think you're doing?"

The tall gym rat took one more step before stopping, then did a slow turn and looked around in confusion.

"Yes, you!" She put the bar away. "Can't you see I'm recording?!"

The man just stood there, still rather puzzled. His gaze eventually found the smartphone stand next to the squat rack, and it wasn't long before he put the two and two together. Right then he noticed an ornery, scantily clad, five-feet-two tornado of feminine fury approaching him with an angry spring in its step.

She got right in front of him and titled her head

way

up. The man towered over her by at least an entire foot, but that didn't discourage Candy from launching onto him with a righteous fervor. "So?! Are you going to apologize or what?"

An echoing, tumultuous, but clearly amused chuckle came from somewhere above Candy's head. Huge, musclebound arms bent at the elbows and rested on the hips, between a massive chest and powerful, trunk-like legs. From between the bulging pectoral muscles, a pair of deep azure eyes regarded her with stoic curiosity, the face of which was broken only by the guy's jovial smile.

"Helloooo? Anybody there?"

She tapped his torso, wrapped in a sleeveless shirt that struggled to contain his overdeveloped body. As she did so, her manicured finger slipped over one of the many hillocks of his abs, landing in a wide crevice between the lumps of hard muscle. This broke her stride for a moment but she composed herself quickly. The only lasting effect of the incident was a slight, unexpected rise in temperature between her legs.

Still smiling, and still saying nothing, the unflappable giant shifted his gaze to the squat rack, let out a gentle scoff, then once again looked at Candy.

"You can squat more than that," he finally spoke. His voice was low and masculine but with a lingering note of youthful boyishness still present in its timbre.

"Huh?" she let out, perplexed. "What does this have to do —"

"It's pointless to record yourself with such a low weight," he said, shifting slightly so he didn't tower over her so grotesquely. "Get closer to your maximum and then check your form on camera."

She blinked a few times. What was this meathead saying? Did he honestly think that she wanted his advice? No way! This was just a blatant attempt at deflection. He was clearly trying to steer the conversation away from the fact that he had disturbed her. Rather than apologize, like he should've done from the start, he was now pretending to be

helpful

.

Oh no, Candy would not stand for that!

"I'm... I'm gonna record what I want, mister!" she squeaked at him. "I don't need your opinion on how I work out!"

Unfazed, he had maintained practically the same smile throughout the whole interaction. But now it faltered a little, and he gave her an indifferent shrug.

"Of course," he said calmly. "I can see you're doing well enough."

She blinked. "What... what was that supposed to mean?"

"Your form," he replied, his smile gaining just a touch of mischievous quality. "I can see no flaw in it."

To her own surprise, Candy got a little flustered at this remark. She didn't have a proper retort ready, so she let out something between a scoff and a gasp, to which the tall muscle-stud responded with another annoyingly friendly smile. Then, before she mustered an appropriate rebuttal, he had already wished her a good workout and casually wandered away.

Ugh, whatever, she thought. She was only mildly irritated now, realizing it wasn't worth it to work herself up over some random weirdo. But he was kinda cute, wasn't he?... Uhm, yeah, maybe for an inconsiderate jerk that he was!

Oh well, no biggie: she could always just try the squat again. As long as her heart-shaped ass was in the picture, barely covered by those naughty short shorts, it'd be the only

form

that her followers would care about.

***

It wasn't easy to be a hard-working girl like Candy. While her schedule didn't include the typical nine-to-five, it was nevertheless packed in its own special way.

First, she had to take care of her body: it was her highest priority to keep it trim, hot, fit and sexy. Regular visits to the gym were only a small part of her elaborate routine, carefully designed to achieve precisely this objective. Hairdresser was a must; manicure was non-negotiable; pedicure was absolutely required; laser hair removal wasn't even a question; and a tanning salon was a sad necessity even under the blazing sun of Orange County, just to get rid of those pesky lines left by her skimpy bikinis.

She had to look like a million dollars, Candy told herself, if she wanted to

earn

something like a million dollars a year from her content.

Producing said content, in various forms, was what the rest of her schedule was devoted to. Every day she'd post at least one carefully selected photo on her Instagram, depicting her in a revealing outfit that skirted the line drawn by the terms of service. Videos of similar nature went either there or on TikTok, including that unfortunate booty squat which she finally got right on the fourth retake.

But it wasn't just tweets and the like; Candy was making long form content, too. She would be streaming on Twitch for a few evenings each week, showing similarly large amounts of her bronzed skin under a flimsy pretense of playing some video games. Her choice of titles would invariably stay limited, mostly to those that required very little mechanical skill to play and included a lot of downtime. This allowed her to coquettishly interact with viewers and thus

gently

steer them towards her other venues.

Chief among those was, of course, her OnlyFans account. Candy wasn't exactly a pornstar, or at least she didn't consider herself one, but that was only because she'd never been fucked by a guy on camera. Almost everything else, however, was well within her boundaries.

She would bare it all on a regular basis, stroking her hairless pussy to climaxes both real and fake. She'd sensually caress her ample breasts, pinching the rock-hard nipples that stood proudly atop her D-cup globes. She'd thrust a variety of dildos of various sizes and colors into her dripping wetness, often with a genuinely orgasmic result. And she'd do it all, and more, while streaming it live to several thousands of her thirsty subscribers.

Some of them, the most generous ones, Candy would grace with a bit of personal attention. An innocuous chat here and there, perhaps graduating into some light sexting, and if the sub had really splurged then maybe even a special video just for him... She would basically roleplay as his girlfriend, imagining that what was likely a greasy fat slob was actually a really hot and handsome man, like —

"Excuse me, are you using this machine?"

Like that tall hunk from two days ago.

"I'm, uh, I am, kind of," she stammered, her cheeks flaring up as she flashed him an apologetic smile. "I'm just doing, uh, a quick rest period between sets, you know?"

He regarded her with an amused smirk. "Ah yes, a good

five minutes

of rest between sets," he said, the emphasis veering into light sarcasm. "Gotcha."

Candy's blush deepened. She quickly put away the phone, praying that the cute guy hadn't noticed she wasn't simply texting with her besties, and decided to actually use the equipment she was sitting on. It was an ad/abductor machine, the kind meant to train your inner and outer thighs, so she gripped the bar in front for purchase and pushed the pads away with her sleek leg muscles.

Or tried to, rather, as she hadn't yet adjusted the weight to something she'd be able to move. Her valiant efforts, though accompanied by strained groans, thus brought her no closer to actually spreading her legs. Come to think of it, there was probably some irony in that.

"The double resistance setting is on," the guy helpfully pointed out. "You were trying to push three hundred pounds."

"What?... Oh, okay."

Even more flustered, she quickly unhooked the latch and tried the movement again. It was much more manageable this time so she did a few reps, hoping it would be enough to convince him she was indeed using the machine.

It wasn't.

"I'm Matt," he introduced himself unexpectedly, just as Candy was finishing the set. He offered his long-fingered hand for her to shake, backing it with a coy grin. "Figured you might wanna put the face to a name..."

She had a momentary impulse to reply with an impolite 'not really,' but the exercise had pumped enough endorphins through her system to warm her normally icy demeanor. She considered him for a moment, eventually cracking a weak smile and letting him wrap his large hand around her small and dainty one.

"Candy."

There was a slight change in his expression, the smile growing a bit wider.

"I like it," he said, giving her slender hand a very gentle shake, "even though I don't think it really suits you..."

This surprised her a little. In her experience, most guys wouldn't pass on the opportunity to give her the obvious compliment.

"Oh? You don't think I'm sweet?"

"I don't think you are

eating

a lot of candy," he said teasingly. "Not with your figure."

She actually giggled at that, albeit briefly.

"Thanks," she said, almost biting her lip. "Is this what you meant the other day, too?"

"The other day?... Oh, right," he stumbled for a second, before flashing her a grin again. "Well, let's just say I saw no flaws in any aspect of your form."

Candy had to smile at this remark. She was being showered with compliments on the daily, of course, but that was basically part of her job; it didn't really excite her to be called hot by the large throng of her simps. This Matt guy, though... He might not have been the suavest of men who'd ever hit on her, and she wasn't even sure if she found his muscle-ridden physique all that attractive, but there was something quite charming about his casual approach.

Assuming, that is, that he was indeed hitting on her.

"Anyway, if you are using the machine then I'll leave you to it," he said, turning to leave. "See you around, Candy."

Well, was he...? She wasn't entirely sure now. Her gaze followed his departure, reflexively drifting to the massive hemispheres of his ass and then down to the rippling chords of his trunk-like thighs. She though he probably wouldn't have any problems handling the stupendous weight that she had accidentally latched on. But Candy also found herself musing about those thundering glutes of his, and how they were made for a rather different kind of back-and-forth movement...

She groaned inwardly, tearing her eyes from the jacked fellow and chiding herself for the naughty thoughts. Focusing on the exercise, she once again leaned forward, gripping the handlebar and tensing the sleek muscles of her shapely thighs. As the soft pads they rested against flew outwards, the material of her skin-tight yoga pants touched the sensitive place between Candy's legs.

Her workout had barely even started, and yet she already found herself hot and sticky.

***

She stared intently at the thick iron shaft above her, eyes following the numerous ridges that looked menacing but also strangely tantalizing. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the wide rod with both hands, barely encircling its substantial girth. Heart trembled in Candy's chest and her large breasts heaved, obeying the ragged rhythm of her labored breathing. Finally, mustering every inch of her resolve, she squeezed the hard steel and let out a rather unladylike grunt as she pressed on it with all her strength.

The barbell was now off the rack, complete with an extra fifteen pounds of weight on either end.

"One... Two... Three... Four... F-five..."

Damn, she was feeling really strong today, moving the loaded bar up and down with less effort than she'd expected. While upper body wasn't very high on Candy's list of priority targets to train, the chest was a notable exception. It was one of the few body parts where she definitely wouldn't mind adding some more bulk, just as long as her fleshy mounds remained perfectly soft and squeezable.

"Nine... T-ten... Eeeeleven... Twelve!"

She racked the bar and let loose a sigh of satisfaction. This had been her personal best so far. She felt ready to up the ante and load five more pounds on either side, which would put her dangerously close to the three-digit territory. But in this case, Candy wasn't afraid of heavy weight. Strong was the new sexy, she'd jokingly tell herself, especially when it meant that her spectacularly round boobs would jut out even further.

She looked for another pair of small plates, to add to the growing stacks on her barbell, but her bench didn't have any more around. To her immense irritation, she noticed that other benches nearby were also picked clean of any spare weights. This was likely due to a tittering gaggle of high school cheerleaders who staked her claims on no fewer than three adjacent squat racks, all at the same time.

"Stupid sluts," Candy muttered under her breath.

Out of all easy options, she stood on her toes and peered even further, towards the deadlift platforms in the far corner of the gym. Yup, there were some ten-pounders in there, but the thought of carrying them across practically the entire gym, putting herself on display to all the leering guys, was making her skin crawl.

"Looking for these?"

Hmph, speaking of creepy guys...

"I'm not interested, please go — Oh!"

Okay, this wasn't some random creep. It was just Matt. As far as Candy could tell, he seemed mostly harmless.

"You mean you don't need them?"

Turning around, she saw him standing there in his usual nondescript tank top, the cut of which did little to hide his impressive musculature. Many droplets of sweat appeared to have soaked into the thin fabric, and a few more were still glistening on his bulky arms. His short brown hair looked a little frazzled, too. Candy concluded that he must've just finished with what she imagined was a mountain or two, lifting them in a way that only the big guys could.

She also realized that she still found him cute. Possibly even more so now.

"Oh," she yelped again, finally noticing the two ten-pound plates that Matt had brought along. "I... uhm, yes."

He raised a brow. "You mean you

do

want them?"

This was getting a bit silly. "Yes, uhm, thank you, Matt," she said, showing him a genuinely grateful smile. "If you could just leave them —"

"Nah, I put them on for you," he stated simply, sliding the baby weights away and slotting in the medium ones. "I'm guessing you could use a spotter, too."

The very moment she heard him say this, Candy's mood immediately soured. He was doing this again, wasn't he? Pretending to be helpful, no doubt to cover for some misdemeanor of his that she'd been too busy to notice. What could it be?... Oh, but of course: he

had

been leering at her after all! How else would he know to arrive right in the nick of time, to rescue the hapless damsel in distress from her unfortunate predicament?

"I'll be fine," she said pithily, her exasperated glare causing Matt to take a step back.

Ignoring him, Candy slid under the barbell and regarded the metal rod defiantly. She was about to put it in its place, too, because what difference could a mere ten pounds make?... With this encouraging thought in mind, she took the weight off of the rack, held it a bit shakily for a moment, then lowered it to her ample chest in a slow and controlled manner.

Too bad that the way up wasn't nearly as easy. Candy's strength faltered halfway through the rep, leaving her stuck with a barbell she wasn't able to lift back up.

"Fuck," she cursed quietly, the weight of her failure now resting precariously upon her boobs. Try as she might, all she could do was to stop the barbell from actually crushing her, but even that was looking more and more likely by the second. She closed her eyes as she grunted and squirmed, gathering what strength she still had left in her slender arms; it was nowhere near enough to finish the ill-fated press.

...until a few moments later, when all of a sudden the dreadful bar inexplicably became much lighter. It practically soared in Candy's arms, then landed on the metal anchors with a loud clang. Her eyes flied open, and she noticed one massive hand still grasping the rod precisely at its center.

"You didn't hurt yourself, I hope?"

She took a moment to regain her bearings, free hands traveling instinctively to massage her slightly aching breasts. An errant finger brushed against a stiff nipple, jolting her an with unexpectedly pleasurable sensation, and Candy had to suppress a moan that almost escaped her throat. Embarrassment narrowly avoided, she shook her head no: other than wounded pride, she had suffered no lasting injuries.

"I'm okay," she whispered. "Thanks..."

Matt released the grip and let out a soft chuckle. "Well, I don't wanna say I told you so..."

"I... It... it was just a cramp," she lied, trying to save face by marring it with a frown. "I appreciate the help but I would've been fine on my own..."

Matt opened his mouth, ready to point out what a load of bullshit that was, but his better judgment told him it was pointless to argue. Candy was obviously right. She was

always

right. It was evident to him, starting from their very first meeting. If you didn't want to suffer Candy's ire, you better agreed with her, and fast.

"Of course," he said, resisting the urge to smirk. "Still, if you change your mind, I'm sure you'll have no problems finding me."

He patted the barbell before leaving, the willful girl still lying underneath. She tilted her head backwards to watch him amble away, once more feasting her eyes on the layers upon layers of hard muscle.