A Personal Trainer's Personal Slob Story (WIP Preview)

WARNING THE FULL STORY WILL CONTAIN: Female 1st Person Slobification (WG, Burping, and Farting) and Sexual Content

Years of pushing her clients too far leads to a personal trainer gaining the ire of a witch and a slobby curse in the process. As her once fit body becomes inundated with fat and gas, it falls to her once meek assistant to show her the fund of giving into hedonistic desires.

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            It was a day like any other. Strolling through the gym, I felt proud at the fact that my fit form was far more impressive than anyone else I passed. Sure my slender, athletic body was to be expected considering I was a personal trainer, but there was a certain pride I had in the fact that it came with a head of silky, black hair and a beautiful face to match. What little satisfaction I got out of modeling my body clad in a white tank top and black shorts in front of my mirror paled in comparison to the way people gawked at me as if I were a goddess.

            In direct contrast to my super model-like appearance was my assistant, Tina. The mousy woman always had her bespectacled eyes glancing down at her phone, with her stringy, brown hair done up in a bun. While she was smaller than me, she lacked the muscles and curves to make full use of it. As pathetic as she looked wearing a similar outfit to mine, she served as an excellent way to boost my ego.

            “Tina!” I shouted out, getting her to nearly drop her phone in shock. “Is today’s fresh meat ready?”

            “E-excuse me, Laney-“

            “That’s MISS Laney to you,” I clarified.

            “Right, Miss Laney, you really shouldn’t call your clients that.”

            “Don’t tell me how to do my job,” I said, giving Tina a flick to the forehead. “You’ve seen enough of my sessions to know that I may be rough, but I get results.”

            “And complaints from management,” she muttered just a little too loud.

            “Want to say that again?”

            “N-no, Miss Laney,” she replied, shaking harder than a leaf in a hurricane. “T-the fresh meat is waiting for you in the next room.”

            “Good, now come with me,” I said, stepping through the doorway. “Maybe you’ll grow a spine when you see how to really make someone fit.”

            Strolling to the front of the room, I eyed up the group of people that had managed to ignore the warnings to sign up for my training program. Their courage meant little to considering each of them failed to be anything more than an overweight loser. The disgust I felt at looking at the chub adorning their forms was only suppressed by my desire to see them suffer in order to make their bodies into something respectable.

            “Alright, listen up maggots!” I shouted out to the crowd. “The reason you’re here is because you’ve decided to get your fat asses off your couches to actually do something with your miserable lives. While you’re in my program, I don’t want to hear any whining about being tired or sore. That just means that the worthless sacks of flesh you call bodies are actually moving for something other than midnight snack trips to the fridge. Before we start, any questions?”

            A large number of hands rose up.

            “Well keep them until we’re done,” I shouted out. “If you have the energy to lift up your arms, then you can get to work. Let’s start off easy with 50 jumping jacks. Now get moving!”

            The blow of my whistle got my sorry excuse of a class moving. Within moments, their pudgy forms began to bead with heavy layers of sweat. Soon, the sound of jiggling flab was joined by the echo of heavy wheezes that showed that my usual method was doing its job.

            Working through their odor and pathetic display of physical ability, I began to make my way around the room. Anytime I spotted one of my clients slowing down, I would be quick to blow my whistle right in their ear to get them moving again. Seeing them strain their fatty limbs to meet my demands made a shudder of pride go through my body. That made it all the more devastating to see that one of my clients was slacking off.

            She was seated at the very back of the room, but her poor attempt to hide from me was undone by the fact that she was the largest person in the group. The green tint to her pale, chubby flesh stood out more thanks to her overburdened black tank top and yoga pants. Leaning back on her chunky rear, she seemed content to merely lean back and slide her pudgy fingers through her long, black hair. The uninterested look on her face filled me with a powerful rage I had never felt before. It was as if her glazed over eyes looking past the small bump on her angular nose were daring me to do something about it. Looking back now, I realized that I had fallen right into her trap.

            “The hell do you think you’re doing!” I shouted out, giving up on using the whistle to let my pure fury shine through.

            The woman lazily shifted her head towards me. “Taking a break.”

            “A break?” I asked, leaning down to stare into her face. “You think a land whale like you has earned a break? Far from it.”

            “Let’s agree to disagree on that,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “And to clarify, I don’t appreciate you calling me a land whale. My name is Petunia, thank you very much.”

            I let out a laugh right in her face. “Petunia? Like the flower? You’re far from being anywhere near a good fit for that name. If you want to actually do something other than disappoint the people who gave you that title, get your ass up and start moving. Keep jumping until you’re a sweaty mess ready to pass out on the-“

            “BWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRPPPPPPP!”

            The power of the woman’s belch forced me to fall backwards onto the mat. I blinked a few times, trying to deal with the shock of what had just happened and the smell that had infiltrated my nostrils. When I finally managed to stand myself back up, it was just in time to watch Petunia waddle her way towards the exit.

            “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” I called out.

            “Home,” she replied, not even bothering to look my way. “If I’m going to chill out, I’d rather do it in my own living room. Maybe I’ll come back AFTER you’ve learned your lesson.”

            “What are you talking about?” I asked, stomping towards her.

            My anger only increased as Petunia slammed the door shut with a swing of her hips. Left without a way to properly scorn her for the audacity of her behavior, I turned my rage towards the remaining group. Their exercise routine had come to a stop due to the little outburst. Thankfully, it was something easily solved with another blow of my whistle and a glare.

            “I don’t believe that bitch,” I said out loud to Tina. “Why the hell did she even sign up for this if she was just going to quit?”

            “S-shouldn’t we be worried?” Tina suggested.

            “I don’t care about her leaving a bad review. I’ll add it to the collection.”

            “Not that. There was something off about her. It’s like there was this super natural aura surrounding her body. It’s almost like she’s some kind of-“

            “-ungrateful lard ass who doesn’t know who she’s messing with,” I interjected. “Ugh, I’m getting tired just thinking about her. Tina, get me my drink.”

            “R-right way,” she replied, hurrying to grab my bottle.

            Even if I dreaded the mix of protein and veggies I held in my hands, the health benefits were more than enough to get me to drink them. So focused on how I would get back at Petunia, I didn’t notice at first that something was off. The typically bitter tasting shake was replaced with a long forgotten sweet flavor that danced across my tongue. By the time I realized this, I was already halfway through the bottle. Finally understanding that I was chugging down soda, I tried to spit up the sugary liquid only for a belch to push past my lips.

            “Tina, what the hell were you thinking giving me this?” I asked, pouring the bottle out on the floor.

            “B-but I didn’t-“

            “Don’t make excuses,” I said, shoving the bottle into her hands. “Instead, you clean this up while I finish up the class.”

            Watching Tina scurry away, I tried to refocus my efforts on finishing up the group’s routine. I had to hold back on using my whistle for fear of disturbing the bubbles lingering in the back of my throat. Forced to remain silent, I bid my time considering various ways to get back at Petunia should she ever dare to show her face to me again.