[Mark Foley]

**”Start the growth already!” I hear you cry!

You got it. Another thank you to Sacul for the review – I’m definitely going to explore some of those avenues, don’t worry! Enjoy

Chapter 3 – Everyone remembers their first

Natalie preferred it when the gym was quiet and Monday mid-mornings were usually just that. But usually, the Monday morning meatheads were also long gone by 10am. Instead, the weights area rung with the sound of clanking metal, exaggerated grunts and macho banter.

“Great” Natalie huffed. “The day just gets better and better.” She knew they’d soon be gone, off to don their hard hats or black ties and puffy jackets – all they seemed to boast about was their work and their weights. Cardio would help pass the time, though the only thing she really wanted to throw some weights around herself.

Wasting no time, she deftly hopped onto the stair-master machine for her cardio. She’d already decided that every step would be a crushing boot atop the faces of every single one of PumpLabs’ ‘Fitness and nutrition experts’ . A weights area full of meatheads was more than enough frustration on its own, and she jerked the steps into motion with a kick that could start an old motorbike. Stumbling over her own strength, the endless stairway rolled under her stamping feet as she began her ascent to nowhere.

The suit’s soft fabric felt good as it contorted to her moving body. As her blood started pumping, the suit’s supportive grip kept squeezing it through her thighs and up through her hamstrings at the top of each movement. It gently rubbed her crotch as the skin-hugging cloth rippled under her movements.

As much as the frustration clouded her mind, more than once Natalie struggled to conceal an occasional smile; she felt virtually naked, and no one had a clue. ‘Imagine if they knew what I had on…’ she thought ‘the looks she would get! Would anyone say something? Would they throw me out?’ The mischievous idea gave her a second wave of energy; she increased the resistance of the machine and pumped her legs harder.

It wasn’t long before 30 minutes had passed and the machine’s small TV glistened with tiny rainbow streaks of Natalie’s sweat. Her eyes were vacant as her mind swam aimlessly. She was absorbed in the workout, consumed by the rewarding tension in her thighs.

Abruptly, an obnoxious guffawing came tearing down the walls of her mental sanctuary. The meatheads were plodding their way towards the door. Tight tank-tops and over-spilling protein shakes in hand. The walking gang of thick but soft looking flesh bumped and shouldered each other egotistically until they were through the doors and out of sight at last.

“Finally” she sighed. Her legs burning, she took to the water foundation for a much needed drink. Patches of darkened grey circled her neck and back. Within the suit however, Natalie was far from spent.

Usually she’d amble casually towards the weights, not wanting to look overly keen or in a rush; the same was true for machines that she wanted to use. Today though, Natalie made a bee-line straight for the benches, barbells and plates, playfully skipping over a rowing machine and on to the rubber padded floor of the weightlifting section.

A bomb-site was probably the only way to describe it.

Metals of different weights, shapes and sizes littered the floor. The bench press barbell remained fully loaded with heavy plates of 35kgs on each side, as did another bar for deadlifts. A minefield of dumbbells from 10 to 45kgs stretched like a minefield all along the weight rack, in fact one was still rocking back and forth in one of the grooves punched into the floor, presumably hurled to the ground with a primal display of indifference.

“Arseholes” she grunted through gritted teeth. What little salvation she’d found in the cardio had washed away and there she stood again, her mind rushing and her lungs desperately trying to exhale her anger. She checked the clock on the wall – time was ticking, and the weights evidently weren’t moving themselves, she thought. With a grimace, she began to tidy up.

The lighter dumbbells weren’t an issue – she playfully bicep-curled them onto the rack up until about 22 kilos. She approached the rest like mini-deadlifts, bending her knees low and jerking out with the toned muscles in her glutes and lower back. 30kgs were no problem, if anything it was a nice deep stretch. 35 and 40 kilos got the blood flowing through her back nicely, but the pair of 45s each took a deep breath and more strain than she’d like.

She felt her glutes and the lightly muscled cords in her lower back fully tensing as she lifted the final dumbbell up and onto the rack. She exhaled, dusted her hands and nodded at the clear(er) floor.

Next were the plates of the chest press – she removed them and gripped each large metal disc with both hands. Three sets of six plates were more than enough to get the blood pumping in her biceps, and soon they too were back where they belonged.

Only the big barbell on the floor remained. By now, with Natalie’s blood was flowing in the right places; she decided to take an added moment to check the weights – 45kgs on both sides.

“Just one rep” she murmured to herself. Her back, legs and backside was still warm from the dumbbells; they had been a warm-up, the same way she saw the meatheads lifting as they climbed towards their limit before performing one boisterous final rep.

She took a firm grip on the bar and with three short, sharp breaths, squeezed her legs, back and butt, and the bar slowly, shakily rose from the floor.

Glutes and legs straining, she squeezed her buttcheeks hard and pushed through to straighten her legs. Her back followed suit, and with an audible grunt, she stood fully erect, the bar trembling at her knees.

A second or two seemed to crawl past before she lowered the bar to the floor with a heavy sigh. She squatted down next to it, panting and satisfied with herself.

Whew, I didn’t know I could lift that much. She thought, her mind’s voice panting in time with her lungs.

She confidently removed the plates from each end and rolled the bar back against the wall and slumped down onto the nearest workout bench. With a sweep of her sleeve cleared a bead of sweat from her forehead. Some of those weights individually had been her personal bests, especially the deadlift. She’d struggled with two hands with some dumbbells too, and worried for her energy levels, she sat hunched with her elbows propped on her legs.

She breathed deeply through her nose, savouring the rest when became strangely aware of her heart rate. She felt her pulse in her neck once again, and before she knew it, that sensation began pulsing through her arms, legs and lower back.

Her back bolted upright as she felt a strong grope from within the suit. Her muscles tensed as hard as they could, followed by that familiar hot squeeze as her body surged into life. The suit hugged her tightly, the fabric that sat so snugly between her thighs seemed to stroke her as it clenched her back muscles tight and the seconds marched by.

Then, within the suit’s vice-like grip, she could feel two small vines of muscle rise out and creep upwards beneath her skin, just a few daring centimetres.

Her legs and glutes followed immediately, her strong hamstrings overpowered her tightening quads and pulled them together, lifting her shuddering legs parallel to the gym floor. Natalie’s eyelids flickered as her pumping hamstrings filled and gently squeezed against her taught calves. Her glutes flexed into tight, solid buns beneath her and she could swear she was lifted a few millimetres higher as the muscles ripened.

Finally, with a sharp intake of breath, there came the rush of penetrating warmth – this time deeper into her body than she’d ever felt. She covered her trembling jaw with a shining palm, trying to disguise the ripple of intense pleasure as some kind of yawn.

Just then, her biceps felt the same tingling and Natalie’s arms tensed in unison. Her elbows clamped into her sides and she felt the two little bulbs of muscle stretch into their typical ping-pong ball size for a few aching moments, and then, with final wave of intensity, press harder against her ribcage.

Natalie gave the slightest thrust of her crotch as the warmth crashed through and enveloped her. She kept her eyes closed and revelled in the pump. It pumped furiously – and she was convinced it felt thicker than usual – she could even follow it through her arms, butt, and legs and down into the small of her back.

“Is it over?” She panted delicately.

Tentatively, she rolled up one sleeve, revealing the suit’s light blue skin. She had to blink as she saw a strong, pronounced vein winding down her forearm towards her pumping biceps.

Natalie gasped and immediately covered it. ‘What the hell was THAT? Is there more?’ She thought, ‘God that was good…but, oh God, did I almost cum in front of everyone here?!’

Her eyes wide and still breathless, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were a flushed a vitalised, youthful pink, her skin glistened and her lips were redder than she’d ever seen them. Her face shimmered from sweat and her body glowed from the suits overwhelming embrace.

She reached a hand around her to her lower back. Foraging with her fingers, she found a newly deepened valley between two short, solid vines of muscle, and she couldn’t supress her shock. She ran her hands over her legs – they were hard and felt fit to burst when she extended her legs and tensed her quads.

But what struck her most was the energy – energy so pure she could have run to the weight stand and snatched the 20kg dumbbells with her teeth. Her legs felt weightless as the massaging warmth trickled down her shaking quads and into her petite feet.

Natalie gleefully glided over to the weight rack. Her mind was a rushing torrent of pleasure and the terrified energy from a thrill ride that left her scared to experience it again, yet unable to think about anything else.

One thought did emerge from the blinding currents – her chest workout, that real workout she’d been needing.

16kgs was already heavier than her usual chest warm-up, but the rush, the warmth, the empowering grip of her PumpSuit made the choice for her. Shuffling eagerly back to the same bench – where a heart-shaped patch of sweat lay in the centre – she lay flat on her back and began a chest press.

The first set felt almost weightless. She waited for the burn and strain that never seemed to arrive, 20 easy reps. Incredulous, she put the 16s back and reached for the 18 kilogram dumbbells – Natalie wasn’t into easy workouts; intensity was the always bare minimum she allowed herself.

With held breath, she hoisted the 18kg dumbbells over her chest. That was more difficult. As her rush of energy faded, the reps became harder, more laboured and the muscles strained. She stuck through it though, finishing the exercise and dropping the weights to the floor with a clatter.

She trembled with nervous energy every time she finished a set. ‘Is it going to happen again? Is it going to happen this time? It’s the workout that sets it off, right? Maybe it isn’t? It is on a timer or something, like every 30 minutes? What’s happening under this suit? How much of these ‘chemicals’ is it giving me? Should I even do it again?’

At the end of each set, she’d gaze into the mirror and wait anxiously. The seconds quickly became minutes, but nothing. Whatever the case, she secretly knew she’d welcome it whenever it returned. She tensely continued working through her chest workout, cautious not to drop the intensity.

Every set went by without a snag. She pushed hard on her incline bench press, eager to stress her upper pectorals on her rather featureless chest. Natalie maintained that having nice boobs was one though, but having a ‘chest’ was another.

Natalie had worked up a decent sweat by the time she’d finished her chest, and her hands gently trembled from a mixture of adrenaline and frayed nerves. She needed a few minutes rest before moving onto her biceps.

She couldn’t stop looking over her shoulders, glancing around in case another person came into the weights area – she definitely didn’t want the rush to come then. For now it was thankfully deserted. As a precaution, she pulled the hood of her tracksuit up over her head. Looking into the mirror, some blond hair dangled out and her blue eyes glimmered from within the shade.

The tension made her muscles ache, all the pent up energy, and anticipation spent wondering if the suit was going to take hold of her again and squeeze her in its pleasing, powerful grip.

Another pair of minutes passed, and nothing. With a relieved and exhausted sigh, Natalie finally felt like she could relax her body.

And she had barely time to blink before her pectorals clenched again.

Her chest muscles flexed tighter than the top of any rep. The uncontrollable flexing clamped her arms forward and together, her arms shook so much under the tension that she hunched her back forward to clench the edge of the bench, but that just made her entire upper body quiver as the suit squeezed layers of hardened muscle into her writhing body. The suit slipped greasily away from her neck as her pecs crept a few strained centimetres outwards.

The tension continued – it had already been longer than the earlier rush, and this was just one muscle group. Natalie’s wet hair clung to the side of her face as she sank her teeth in to her lower lip. The suit, now lubricated with sweat, groped her even more sensually as it slid over her skin while her muscles pumped.

Her upper pectorals took the bore of the brunt, she felt them tense more than she’d ever felt before, spreading out ever so slightly towards her collarbone. She could feel each pec individually too, both of them throbbing in harmony, before at last, the burst of heat gushed through her whole chest from her neck to the very tips of her rock-hard nipples.

Her arms fell to her side, her pectorals relaxed and Natalie exhaled such a heavy sigh it blew her teeth straight off of her lip. Once more, her crotch jolted hard along the hard leather bench – Natalie was almost bent double as she panted over the bench’s edge.

“Hah…hah…Oh my god” she whispered loudly.

The suit felt tighter than ever as its warmth oozed over her. Another flood of energy and pleasure enveloped her body, from her quivering pecs, to her fluttering fingertips and tingling toes.

Natalie watched herself grinning from ear to ear as she blushed in the mirror.

**Hope you enjoyed reading. It’s just baby steps for now, as you can see Natalie’s still learning how it all works – I’m sure she’ll get the hang of it…
Chapter 4 is already half written, so you prolly won’t have to wait long for that. Monday is for chest AND biceps you know!

[Mark Foley]

**Here’s Chapter 2. A thank you to Sacul for the review!

A taste of things to come.

Shaking in the afterglow, Natalie clumsily knocked the papers on the floor. She dropped to her knees and started scanning with a furrowed brow.

Dear Ms Marsh,

Congratulations! You have been accepted by PumpLabs to participate in the exclusive prototypical phase of our latest range of workout enhancing products: The PumpSuit! (Patent pending).

Here at PumpLabs, we monitor the progress of budding ‘athletes’ from all over the globe, and in light of your social media campaign, our executive group of elite fitness and nutrition experts unanimously agreed that you could use our help.

Our hearts here at PumpLabs are too big to watch another potential ‘athlete’ fighting against the tide. We feel the need to help those athletes who need that final step. We recognise struggling ‘athletes’ like yourself, and are always quick to recognise when assistance is needed – as we have notably found in your case.

Accordingly, we have generously donated our latest, most exciting product to the ones who desperately need it. We promote fitness and strength for all – even to those whom it appears completely out of reach.’

The sentences bit like a snake; fast, sharp and with loaded fangs that sunk in deep. Natalie’s eyes were stinging with tears before she could even finish the last sentence. Squeezing the tears from her quivering blue eyes, she tried to continue.

“PumpLabs was founded in 2011 with the aim of blah blah f**king blah.” Natalie snapped. Her shaking hands changed quickly from pleasure to resentment.

“F**k these guys! Who do they think they are?! ‘Notable amounts of help?’ ‘Out of my reach?!” She tossed the sheets over her shoulder in a fluster. The pages spread like wings for but a split second, before crashing to a splayed heap next to her wardrobe.

Natalie bolted to her feet. All the progress she’d made, all the things she’d changed, the time she’d spent, the sweat she’d poured, the muscles she’d sculpted, the fat she’d singed, the cravings she’d endured, and the ‘friends’ she’d lost that called her boring just for giving up alcohol. And finally, someone reached out, and all they said was ‘Not good enough’? Are you even trying?!’

Destined for second fiddle, again. Just like it was with her sister. Natalie remembered watching her play baseball outside, just after her dad came home with just one glove, just for Kelly. Kelly was the sporty one. Natalie was the pretty one. That’s the way it was, that’s the way her family still thinks it is, despite everything Natalie had tried to give.

“F**k ‘em”. She spat through snarled lips. “Not today. Not now, after all I’ve done.

And if I’m not doing well enough by their standards – I’m sure as s**t not going to let them promote their name on my arse of all places.”

She turned to her wardrobe, her fingers already peeling the suit from her neck. Her bare foot stamped onto something cold; glancing down Natalie saw the muddled papers again.

Only this time, something caught her eye. Some emboldened sentences were too loud to ignore:

Once the suit is worn and has synergised with your muscles. You MUST NOT remove the suit for a period of at least ONE HOUR, under any circumstances. Muscles need time to absorb all the chemicals from each ‘PumpPatch’, thus removal of the suit before the body has adjusted will cause permanent damage to the muscles affected.

She read the sentence again, then once more, her flushed pink lips breathing out each word.

“What the hell is this thing?” she whispered. She looked back at herself in the mirror – she’d never felt more miniature, flatter or weaker. The ‘PumpPatches’ now seemed more visible through the suit’s tight fabric, obvious even. She repeated the words in her head, ‘synergised’, ‘chemicals’, ‘absorb’, ‘muscles!’.

The clock on her nightstand interrupted with a furious ringing. Natalie cursed under her breath. It was time to hit the gym already, and she’d spent the better part of half an hour in an emotional hurricane – better than sex one minute, in tears the next. She needed to go now or cut her workout short. And she needed a work out now.

“Fine…whatever this thing is, it won’t get a second of exposure from this body.” She muttered to herself as she picked out her baggiest, most unflattering, grey tracksuit and threw it over herself.

Time was running short, so she ran to the gym. It was usually just a 10 minute jog, but in her frustration at the letter, from those pricks, that easily became a 5 minute sprint. She couldn’t out-run those needling words that chased her along the pavement.

The contempt gave her energy, and today wasn’t the first time she’d used it as a pre-workout pump. This is going to be a real workout she told herself. Her favourite kind, the ones that purged the anger and helped forget about the past.

The crisp morning air had done little to clear her mind. Yet the fast run had already made her feel better already, and her tight quads, calves and hamstrings were tingling pleasurably as the automatic gym doors opened for her.

**A little character heavy I know, but this’ll become important later, you’ll see! Everybody’s either driving towards something, or away from it – and right now it seems Natalie’s somewhere in between.

Hope you enjoyed reading again. Next – to the gym!

[Author]

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