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It was time for The Shorts.
These weren’t just any shorts. These were pastel blue, skin-tight booty shorts that left nothing to the imagination and nowhere to hide. Alex had bought them months ago, knowing full well she was too chicken to wear them, and chucked them in the “someday” drawer. The “someday” drawer was just that: A reserve of all the short, tight, skimpy clothes that would go untouched and unworn until she felt confident enough to wear them. A year ago, that someday felt like it was never going to come.
Funnily enough, her dissatisfaction with her weight wasn’t what drove her to start going to the gym. Oh, sure, she’d always talked about wanting to build some muscle and shed that lingering freshman 15 (or freshman 25, who was counting?). But one late night, while filling out job applications in the desperate haze of a recent college graduate with a degree in the arts, a question stood out to her: Are you able to comfortably lift 50 pounds?
Alex didn’t know. So she tried. While, technically, the 50 pounds had been lifted, there was nothing comfortable about the process. And something about that hit Alex right in the pride. The next week found her with a fresh new gym membership and a wardrobe full of cute new workout clothes she’d bought to motivate herself. The Shorts were one such purchase, but they were filed away for “someday.” Which happened to be today.
Turned out, lifting weights and sprinting intervals on a treadmill was wicked fun. Not only did Alex feel the results of her training every time she didn’t run out of breath on a staircase, she could see the results in the mirror. She took a well-deserved moment to preen over herself — over the abs that had shown up for the first time, over the biceps that flexed when she curled her arms, and over the total lack of muffin top above The Shorts.
She was damn proud of herself.
Alex threw on white sneakers and a sleeveless hoodie that was short enough not to cover her butt — no sense in covering up all her hard work. Equipped with a gym bag, a water bottle, and the high of newfound confidence, she was out the door.
Her gym of choice was in a quiet area of town. Alex could have joined several gyms cheaper and closer to her apartment, but a few trial visits convinced her that this was the one. The place was always kept clean. The high membership price kept attendance low, which meant no crowded cardio aisles and no wait to use machines. Another unexpected perk was realized a couple weeks into her fitness journey: Alex practically never saw other women in the gym. There was one regular who looked to be in her mid-seventies, who came every Wednesday and spent exactly 20 minutes on the elliptical. None of the other usual gymgoers paid the old woman any attention. But there were no young women - other than Alex - to be found. Even the staff, as far as Alex had seen, was all male. The guy who’d confirmed her membership made a lighthearted comment about how they “hadn’t had a girl here in a while.”
While a gym full of men might have been intimidating to some, Alex found it a sort of relief to have no competition. There were no Instagram-worthy bombshells with arms skinnier than Alex’s deadlifting hundreds of pounds with ease. No cardio bunnies outrunning her on the adjacent treadmill without breaking a sweat. Having no one to compare herself to became a source of motivation for Alex.
Besides, if it was a little nice to know that she was the resident eye candy, what was wrong with that?
A lot wrong, as it would turn out.
Alex had heard the horror stories of creepy guys harassing girls in gyms. She thought she knew what to look out for, and how to handle it. But the young blond man with the Fitbit and the tasteful stubble didn’t trip any of her creep alarms when he came over and held something out in his hand.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
Alex slowed her treadmill down to a walking pace and took out one earbud.
“I think you dropped these.”
The distinctive pink pom-pom keychain marked the set of keys in his hand as Alex’s. She didn’t remember dropping them; she could have sworn they were still in her treadmill’s cupholder when she’d walked away for a moment to fill up her water bottle. But they must have gotten misplaced somewhere along the way.
“Thank you,” Alex huffed, still out of breath from the intense running she’d been doing moments ago. She reached out to take the keys, but the man closed his fist around them and pulled his hand away. An odd smile was on his face.
“If you’re grateful, why don’t you give me something in return?”
“What?” Alex was still panting a little. She took out her other earbud, convinced she must have heard him wrong.
“Listen, girlie.”
Alex whipped her head around. Another man had spoken from the other side of her treadmill. He was tall and broad, and Alex recognized him as the guy who was on the leg press machine more than any other exercise. Leg Press leaned casually on the side arm of the treadmill, getting into Alex’s space. “We appreciate whatcha do for us, here. It’s nice to have a piece of ass to watch while you’re workin’ your own ass off.”
“I-” Alex muttered, dumbfounded by the brazen statement.
Leg Press continued. “But we know it’s you who’s gettin’ the most out of it. I know your type. Get your jollies off by bouncin’ your tits and bendin’ over in front of horny guys who can look, but not touch. Must do wonders for your ego.”
“No, I-” Alex couldn’t even begin to think of a response to that.
“Now, now.” Stubble spoke up again in a soothing tone. “Don’t get it twisted. We like girls like you. They’re an asset to the group morale. But you can only do so much teasing before you’ve gotta pay up. Otherwise the boys just get frustrated, and trust me, you wouldn’t want the boys to have you when they’re frustrated. Know what I’m saying?”
“No,” Alex said, “I don’t.” But she didn’t like the vibe of this conversation at all. She jabbed the stop button on the treadmill and reached to grab her water bottle.
“What’s the rush?” Alex had been so focused on the two men on either side of her, she hadn’t noticed the third one approaching from the free weights section. This one was short and lanky, but had killer biceps, since apparently that was all he ever bothered to train. Biceps stood behind her, unsubtly blocking her from leaving the treadmill. “We just want you to put a little show on for us. That’s what you love doing, isn’t it?”
Alex’s heart was pounding, but it wasn’t from the running anymore. She stood there on the still tread belt, water bottle in a death grip, looking between the three men who had her surrounded. Then she turned her gaze to the rest of the gym, looking for the nearest good Samaritan to call for help. Surely someone would intervene when they saw a young woman being menaced, right?
Her heart sank when she saw that every other man in the gym was looking directly at her. Far from showing an inkling to help, they all either seemed to be either enjoying the show, or contemplating joining in.
Well, Alex guessed it was time to put all that newfound strength to use. She lunged off the treadmill, shoving Biceps at full force. He grunted and fell on his ass; not enough leg days to keep himself balanced when faced with 100 pounds of tiny - but angry - female human. Alex sprinted in the direction of the front door, not even thinking about how she would speed away in this quaint suburban neighborhood without her car key. Unfortunately, she didn’t even reach that stage of her plan. Stubble and Leg Press made a team effort to grab her, and Alex’s bench press personal record was nothing compared to the combined weight and muscle of two large, blatantly horny men.
Alex cried out, thrashing in their grip. She swung her one free arm around, trying to slam the fancy glass water bottle into one of their heads. Eventually, that arm was seized by a new hand — maybe belonging to Biceps, maybe a whole other man who’d come to harass her. Alex didn’t know and didn’t care. With her arms incapacitated, she struck out with her legs. She managed to get in a wicked shin kick, bringing Leg Press to his knees, but she still couldn’t escape the grip of what could have been at least four men now.
From the ground, Leg Press hissed, “You’re gonna regret that one, girlie.”
Before Alex knew it, she was being hoisted off the ground and carried back into the heart of the gym. In her panic, Alex still took stock of her surroundings. Her assailants were carrying her towards the free weights section, where a number of men - some regulars, some Alex had never seen before - looked like it was Christmas morning for them. Some already sported noticeable bulges under their gym shorts. One guy already had his hands down his pants, touching himself to Alex’s panicked shouts and fruitless struggling.
The men manhandling Alex seemed to decide on something wordlessly. They carried her to one of the squat racks, where a barbell laden with heavy plates was already mounted. Whoever had been using it had disappeared, likely into the audience beginning to crowd around them. Alex had a moment to be confused — were the men planning to ask her to lift for them?
She didn’t get off so easy.
Alex was a short girl with short legs, and thanks to her hard-earned weight loss, she was a light weight. With little more than some quiet grunts of effort and an “Up you go,” Alex was raised into the air and lowered down so that she was straddling the bar. Her feet couldn’t reach the ground, and with her arms still being restrained by sweaty palms, there was nothing for her to grab onto. Alex downright screamed the moment she first felt the sensation of all her body weight bearing down on her crotch. Nothing but the flimsy fabric of her shorts and her light blue thong stood between the rough textured metal and her defenseless pussy.
“Look at this bitch dance,” one man commented, pushing through the crowd. He grabbed Alex’s ankles and stilled the legs she’d been desperately kicking in an effort to push herself off the bar. He pulled her legs down, putting even more pressure on her already-aching pussy. “You stay right there and look real pretty for us, alright?”
“Fuck you,” Alex spat. “Fuck all of you!”
She recognized Stubble’s voice from behind her. “Other way around, sweetheart. Other way around.”
Several men had shoved a pair of stray weight benches under the bar Alex was splayed helplessly open on. Alex could have touched them with her toes if her legs had been free, and she desperately tried to do so, but the hands on her ankles - which Alex vaguely realized belonged to two different men now - kept her legs spread wide, ensuring the soft, delicate folds of her pussy felt the full brunt of her humiliating position.
Alex didn’t understand the purpose of the weight benches at first. Then someone climbed up on them and positioned himself behind her.
“Alright, boys.” That was Stubble again. “Let’s get this party started.”
The light athletic fabric of Alex’s hoodie was torn straight off her body with a loud ripping sound. Moments later, the sweaty palms keeping Alex’s arms restrained were replaced by a makeshift rope, her arms bound uncomfortably behind her back with her own shirt.
“Look at that,” someone shouted with disdain, gesturing to Alex’s plain sports bra, “her tits are practically popping out of that thing!”
“Why don’t we give them a little air?” Stubble agreed. He hiked the band of Alex’s sports bra up, but didn’t remove it all the way. The band pressed Alex’s tits down and out, and Alex noted with mortification that - probably from fear or adrenaline - her nipples were hard.
Nobody asked permission. One moment Alex was sitting there, realizing that this was really happening, the next, there were what felt like dozens of hands taking their fill of her exposed breasts. Fingers pinched and scratched at her nipples, and greedy palms took handfuls of the soft tissue and squeezed hard enough to bruise. One man in particular was fond of slapping them. Alex had never been slapped there before, and the man wasn’t holding back. Every blow had Alex jerking in shock, involuntarily grinding herself against the sandpapery metal bar. Tears started to form in Alex’s eyes, and no matter how much refused to let them fall, her efforts were in vain.
“Aww, don’t cry, girlie.” Leg Press was behind her now, taking his own sweet time to grope her now-swollen tits. “We ain’t even got goin’ yet.”
He shoved a calloused hand down the back of the shorts Alex had been so enamored with just minutes ago. Alex tensed, expecting to feel rough fingers pushing themselves inside her. What she did feel was somehow worse.
Leg Press grabbed a handful of her thong and pulled upwards with all his might. Instantly, the thin roll of fabric dug into her ass and her abused pussy. It was enough force that Alex would have been lifted into the air, had the men on the ground not still held her legs fast. As it was, Alex was pulled up by the most sensitive parts of her body and pulled down by the force of her own weight and several strong men. It was unbearable. It felt like she was being split open. Alex couldn’t help the loud, sobbing screams she let out. At first it was wordless, but as Leg Press showed no signs of letting up on her panties, Alex abandoned her pride and began pleading with him in choked, tearful gasps.
“Alright, alright. Wimpy lil’ whore.” The grip on her thong slackened, but not before Leg Press delivered a painful slap to her ass. “That was for my leg. Bitch.”
Alex couldn’t take much more. She needed them to get it over with already. She waited for someone to take her off this impromptu torture device so they could fuck her and be done with it. She just wanted to go home.
Once again, she didn’t get that. What she got was much worse.
“Enough waiting. Let’s get to the real meat.”
It sounded like Biceps had taken his place behind her, but at this point, Alex was so exhausted and scared she could have been hearing things. A firm hand pressed against her back, bending Alex over until her chest pressed the bar. The cool metal was actually something of a relief, nestled between the hot, itching skin of her breasts. Alex felt her shorts being yanked down, and her stretched-thin thong being pulled to the side.
“Hey, gimme that — yeah.”
Alex had no idea what was happening behind her. She could only see down and forward, giving her a shameful view of the numerous men who were jerking themselves off to her suffering. She noted with horror that several had their phones out and were snapping pictures or taking video. So the cool slide of something slick against her asshole came as a surprise.
Of course. The gym gave out complimentary Vaseline as part of its monthly goodie bags.
It took several seconds of goo-covered fingers sliding over her crack before Alex realized what this meant for her.
“No,” she started begging, beyond dignity by now. “No, you can’t. Please.” She’d never had so much as a doctor’s finger up there. She couldn’t imagine the pain a man’s cock would cause her.
“Can’t say you have a choice in the matter,” was the response she got. “You wanna prance around like a slut, asking for someone to pleasure your greedy little cunt? This is the consequence. This is the closest you’ll get.”
Tears fell freely onto the worn-down gym carpet as broad fingers shoved themselves into Alex’s ass and pried her open. She still tried to plead for mercy, but most of her words turned themselves into incoherent noises of pain by the time they left her mouth. She noticed one man orgasm at the sound of a particularly violent sob from her.
When she felt the press of something larger and warmer than fingers against her hole, all Alex could hope was that the pain would be enough to make her black out.
She wasn’t even lucky enough to get that. She was fully conscious all throughout the process of at least six men violating her virgin ass, and several more taking up the other end of the weight bench and fucking her throat at the same time, skewering her between the rough thrusts of two uncaring cocks. She was awake when the mob finally decided to let her down from the rack, only for a few of them to throw her onto a weight bench and take turns slapping her poor, beaten pussy, verbally berating her for being enough of a whore to get wet from her abuse. Alex was pretty sure she’d just wet herself out of fear at some point during the first spitroast, but she wasn’t going to tell these men that.
And then, when everyone had finally had enough, it just...ended. The crowd of men went back to their machines and their weights. Some headed to the locker rooms. And Alex was left alone, slumped half over a weight bench and half on the floor, too exhausted and in too much pain to do anything more than lay there as the seed of half a dozen strangers leaked out of her ass.
At one point, a skinny man passed by Alex with a paper towel and disinfectant bottle in hand. Alex vaguely recognized him as one of the guys who’d had her mouth, and had taken great joy in pulling her hair while doing so. He gave her a smile that, on the street, would have been friendly.
“Come back tomorrow, yeah? This only happens about once a month. If you’re real good for us, next time we’ll use your cunt instead.”