Morgan and the Maneaters

Neal pulled the lateral bar down and watched the weights rise up, relishing the strain he felt in his deltoids.

Going to the gym had been an intimidating impossibility at first. But then it became a comfortable after-work routine, something to fill his evenings with. And then gradually, it had become something to look forward to because of times like this, when he was lifting more weight than he'd ever thought possible before.

Back when he was a fat kid, he never would have imagined that someday his body could look like it did now. If he'd even thought about venturing inside his high school's weight room, they would have laughed him out before he could attempt a single pull-up.

Neal the Seal, they'd say.

That was his name, as far as the jocks and their cheerleaders and all the other cool kids were concerned, during those darkest days of his life.

But he wasn't Neal the Seal anymore.

As he did his reps, his eyes drifted around the gym, lingering over the bouncing bubble butts in yoga pants, the sweaty cleavage squeezed into stretchy sports bras, the orgasmic looks on women's faces as they carried out the sexual rhythms of their workouts.

How did guys ever find the motivation to go work out, before the fitness craze started bringing the ladies into the gyms? It certainly helped motivate him, seeing the kind of shapely bodies he was shaping up his own body for.

Over the past couple months, women at his office had started giving him compliments and that was encouraging, too. Wow, you're looking good today, Neal! Have you been working out? Why yes, Nancy from Accounting, yes I have, so nice of you to notice. I'll bet you'd never guess they called me "Neal the Seal" in high school, and that I spent prom night in my basement playing video games? You wouldn't, huh?

By the way, Nancy from Accounting, how would you like to go in that empty conference room so I can fuck your tits before the 12pm meeting?

Of course, Neal was still far too shy to be that forward.

He was painfully aware that he was still a fat kid on the inside, never having had much experience flirting or picking up on the subtle clues women used to signal what they wanted, and when.

And if he did identify such signals from Nancy from Accounting, what then? The thought of leaning in for a kiss, if he wasn't one-hundred-percent certain a woman wanted it, was so intimidating. It was intimidating to him even if he knew a woman wanted it.

There was also the matter of sexual harassment complaints to the Human Resources department, and maybe even lawsuits, if those signals were read incorrectly...

No, Neal was biding his time. Going to the gym as often as possible, eating right, sculpting himself into the kind of man who wouldn't have to guess if a woman wanted him. He'd keep building up his body until the ladies were just drooling for it, and unable to keep their hands off his goodies.

That's when he'd get back into the dating scene, make a few profiles on the dating sites and apps, and just let the pussy come running to him. Maybe he'd check out the local bars and clubs too, see what kind of hot pieces might approach him.

Hell, maybe it'd even happen here at the gym one night?

And about twenty minutes later, as Neal was doing his arm curls, that's exactly what happened.

He was counting reps as he lifted the barbells to his chest, feeling the bulge of his biceps when he felt something else: slender fingers resting atop his pumped-up shoulder.