GYMBOX part 3: Initiation

By lordandmasterinlondon
published May 27, 2019
Summary

Andy completes his transformation under the Coach at Gymbox.

Andy grinned stupidly as he sat down to write, his laptop perched on his knees, his meaty cock pressing hard against it. His legs were huge now, bulging out before him where only a few months ago they’d been on the larger side, but never massive. In all honesty, they’d probably been more fat than muscle, but now every inch of him was sculpted, defined, ripped. Great legs to go with a killer chest and arms. He took a second to appreciate how huge he’d gotten, catching a reflection of himself in the dark mirror of the computer screen. The last three months had changed him beyond recognition, and not just in the gym. His life had changed utterly since joining Gymbox. Since meeting Coach. Since starting his fitness blog. He’d succeeded. He’s done it; Andy was now an online influencer. All it had cost him was everything he was. Andy shook his head, trying to clear the red fog of horniness, grinning as he idly played with his dick. Thoughts of the Coach and his new Boss running through his head. Fuck! He needed to concentrate. He needed to write a new entry.

His online presence had grown dramatically. He chuckled when he thought back to his goals when he first set it up. Get fitter, get famous, maybe pick up a girl or two. The first two had definitely happened, but the third? Andy had no interest in picking up a girl again. No, not after what had just happened. Andy couldn’t clear his head for thoughts of riding a nice hard dick. Not that he’d be able to pick up a girl from his online work anyway. All the fitness babes had dropped off, especially after the first month when things had started to go a little… strange. After he’d started truly listening to Coach. His audience was now entirely gay men, and he gave them exactly what they wanted. Him.

With a smile and his cock pulsing, Andy began to write.

Three months in; Gymbox Ambassador!

Well bros I’ve done it… Today I’ve been named a Gymbox Ambassador! Thank you for all the likes, comments and shares that have got me to where I am now. It’s all down to you guys! To say thanks here’s a few NSFW photos of my in my new Gymbox gear for working out. Hot right?!

Now I’ve got this far, I thought I’d look back on the journey I’ve come on, and share with you some of my tips that got me to where I am today. You all heard about how I met Coach. That’s really the day things started to transform for me. That day he signed me up to his fitness regime. That day he spanked me, smoked me out in the sauna, took me under his wing. After that everything changed.

The first month under his tutelage was tough. Coach was punishing as a PT. Literally. The first few weeks he demanded perfection, the weights always just a little over what I could manage. Every transgression was punished. I went over his knee for a hard spanking more times than I could count. I couldn’t help myself but obey. Every word he uttered was gospel, and even when he wasn’t around, my gym bros kept a strict eye on me, making sure I was pushing myself as hard as I could. I pulled out a chocolate bar one day after a hard workout, getting my energy up before I went into work for a long day of client investment meetings; the next day I came in Coach was there. He turned out my bag, threw out the can of coke, the chocolate bar, the crisps, everything. He gave me a list of ingredients and instructions, as well as two large bags of hefty protein powder. He said he had mixed it especially for me. It was my new diet. He also demanded that I send him a picture at each meal so he could assess the quality of protein and the intervals between snacks. I could do nothing but nod mutely as he invaded my life beyond the gym. Suddenly the lunch I had planned with colleagues, the pints with friends; all of them were thrown out the window as I knew Coach wouldn’t approve. Within just a few weeks, Gymbox had become my life. When I wasn’t working, I was working out. When I was at home, all I could think about was getting back to the gym. Coach even gave me some MP3s to play on my phone for when I rested, or when I was on my way to work. He said they increased concentration and discipline. I listened to them religiously, even when I slept my dreams were laced with the dull thuds of Gymbox music, and the tantalising whisper of instructions I could barely hear. Soon I only used the MP3 for when I travelled; at home I just played it on the sound system, so I could hear it no matter what I was doing. Just zone out and listen…

My friends were getting pissed off with me, my boss wasn’t happy with my performance at meetings. I was distracted, unfocused. It got worse after I stopped showering too. That was just after a few weeks with Coach. He said I’d moved past the stage I needed the soapy suds he provided. He said real men smell, and I wanted to be a real man, didnt I? Of course I fucking did! If Coach wanted me to man up then I would Man the fuck up. My life became a strange routine of gym, work, gym, rest, repeat. It was after a month Coach decided I had made enough progress to enter his special training course. It was after hours, opened only for Coach’s boys, so even more time to hit the weights, and with no newbie faggots around to take up space either! I jumped at the opportunity.

My first session I attended I arrived on time, but all the other guys were already on the weights under Coach’s watchful eye. Coach’s outfit was different to his normal combat boots, trousers and wife beater vest. He was still in his black shiny combat boots, but the trousers had been replaced by a dirty stained jockstrap. I could see at some point it had been pristine white, but years of heavy workouts had left it a dirty stained yellow. I fancied I could even smell it faintly over the now normal stench of all my gym bros’ sweaty pits as they worked the weights around us. To top it all off he had a leather harness framing his massive pecs, drawing attention to the hard muscle beneath the wiry black and pepper fur that covered his chest. He stared at me as he chewed on a massive cigar, puffing clouds of heavy smoke that hung in the air, the scent mingling with the sweat.

“You’re late faggot!” He roared at me. I jumped to, ready to run to the changing rooms, but he held out one of his bear-hands. “You change here fag. Strip.” Without a second thought I’d threw my gymbag on the floor and already had my suit jacket off and was halfway done unbuttoning my shirt before his command even registered. Naked, I reached for my gym kit, but Coach barker out once more. “Last fag gets to dress like a fag!” With that he pulled out a filthy jockstrap tucked into the waistband of his own. He threw it at me and I caught it eagerly, barely registering the stink of sweat, piss and cum. All I knew was Coach had given me an order. And I would do what Coach ordered. I pulled that jockstrap on and hit the weights like my life depended on it.

That first session was the worst. He pushed me far beyond what I thought I could cope with, and then pushed me some more. After one spectacular failure where I’d let the weights hit the ground, he stripped me, tied me to the weight cage, put the dirty jockstrap I’d worn in my mouth and whipped me. Hard. He made all the other men come and watch, calling me a pussy, a faggot, a fucking failure. Tears pricked my eyes, my muffled scream biting into the dirty jock. And yet… under it all I couldn’t deny there was a current of arousal. In my mouth I could taste the sweat of whoever had been wearing the jock last. Maybe even the faintest taste of piss and cum mixing with my saliva. I could see a huge crowd of beefy men, watching me, pawing at their lycra bulges suggestively, leering at me. Several of them were sporting full on erections, and even in the dim lights of the gym I could see wet patches of pre-cum forming. The rope he used to whip me stung, but through it all I couldn’t help keep coach’s mantra out of my head.

Crack! I deserve this. Crack! I’m weak. Crack! A fucking faggot. Crack! I need to be stronger. Crack! I need to be better. Crack! I need to be a Gymbox boy. Crack! I need to Obey. Crack!

I should have been angry. I should have been upset. I should have been ashamed. God help me, all I could think of was how fucking hot it was. How Coach was right. How all the men around me were better. Fitter. Stronger. How I wanted to be them. I tried to snap out of it, tried to think, but thinking was getting harder these days. It was when I felt my cock slowly stiffen as my Coach whipped me in front of everyone that I truly surrendered. That was the night I lost the old Andy, and the new me was born.

If I thought I had worked out with religious fervour before, I’d been wrong. Now every moment, waking or sleeping, was dedicated to Gymbox. At work I’d google new routines. I’d space out in meetings thinking about getting back in, listening to Coach. I breezed through an HR interview where I’d been complained about for the body odour; why didn’t they understand? Of course there was body odour, coach said I didn’t need the soap anymore. Between the heavy workouts and the saunas I was sweating like a fucking pig and I loved it. Every time I smelled my scent my cock would go rigid, pressing hard against my suit trousers. My boss was frustrated with me, but the hard thing was despite the fact I was like a zombie around the office, despite the fact I was sweating like a bitch in heat, despite the fact I was constantly horny and slipping off to the toilets to wank… I had never performed better at work. I could barely remember the hours I spent outside Gymbox, it was like I was on autopilot, but at a subconscious level I was making lightning fast decisions on the investments for my clients, and my returns were smashing my previous records on a daily basis. I couldn’t be trusted at a client meeting though; too distracted, too smelly, too likely to zone out and fondle my dick absentmindedly. I pretended I had something medical up which was why I was sweating so much; I don’t think they bought it but they tried to come up with an interim solution that kept them on the right side of employment law whilst they figured it out. In the end they found an old office down in the basement that was being used to store old monitors. It wasn’t air conditioned and it was right by the vents, so it was sticky and uncomfortable, but private. I loved it. Nobody bothered me down there, I was left to my own devices. Not even the cleaner visited. Within a few days of moving in, it stank like the Gymbox locker room, meaning I was constantly horny; a few hours in I ditched the suit and just sat in my jockstrap. I put three loads into it before lunch. Before long, my colleagues started calling it “the pit”. I could sit in my own stench all day, only leaving to work out or sleep.

The only client I continued to see in person was a young guy whose investments I managed. In all honesty, I normally wouldn’t bother with a client like him; I managed investments for bigger clients, and small time investors with only a few tens of thousands in the bank barely got a look in. It’s unfair I know, but you focus on the multi-millions, let the smaller guys’ investments ride on their coattails and you can keep them getting decent returns whilst you focus on the more important players. I don’t know whether it was because my boss had handed physical meetings off to my colleagues whilst I was “recovering”, or maybe being all alone down in the pit was making me eager for client contact. All I know is as soon as I read his email I phoned up to arrange to meet him straight away. Something about the words he used maybe? I can’t remember talking to him on the phone, but I remember my cock pressing hard against my suit; as he hung up I cried out as I blew a load into my suit trousers right there. Thankfully our meeting wasn’t for another few weeks, but fuck! My suit was covered in cum!

I raced home to change; as I stepped in front of my huge mirrored wardrobes, I looked at myself. My muscles strained against my suit, stretching the fabric of my shirt. Even the dark smear of cum on my leg turned me on. I began to play with myself again, thinking of how big I was growing. Loads of my online followers were gay dudes, and in following them back I’d started to become exposed to some really hot stuff. I turned on my phone and brought up the app and started scrolling my feed. I stopped at one that had a guy bulging out of a rubber jockstrap and tank top with the words PISS PIG branded across it. From off camera a heavy stream of piss was aimed at him, and the slut was drinking it up, rubbing it in to those thick muscles… I’d already ruined the suit, so fuck it I thought. My dick was already leaking at the thought as I unzipped. I probably should have headed into the bathroom or something, but that red fog of horniness stopped me from thinking too hard. I whipped my cock out, lay back, wanking, imagining Coach standing over me. I barely let go long enough to fumble at my desk and pull out one of the cigars I’d bought online. I loved the smell of them now, I couldn’t help but think of Coach, bringing me closer in that sauna… I wasn’t gay, but fuck those gays knew how to have sex. Great bodies too. Most of my bros in the gym were gay. We’d laugh about ex girlfriends and they’d explain that was before. That only real men fucked other men, and you had to work out hard to be a real man. It sounded so fucking hot. I lit up the cigar and puffed away as I wanked. Biting it tight, I pulled my suit trousers down a little and started playing with my sweaty hole. Before I knew it I had one finger in. Then two. I was working on the third when finally something clicked in my brain and a hot, heavy stream of piss poured from my engorged cock, spraying all over my face, my shirt, down my open mouth and all over the carpet beneath me. The taste was incredible. I gulped greedily, and just seconds after I’d ran out of piss, my arsehold convulsed and I spurted out the heaviest load I’d ever seen. Fuck I was horny. I crawled up, shaking. I knew there was something I was supposed to do at home, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was. I looked at myself in the mirror. My suit was covered in piss and cum, my white shirt wet with it, showing my pecs and abs beneath. Fuuuuuck. I looked hot as fuck. I snapped a photo for my followers, zipped up, and headed back out to work.

One by one my old mates fell away, but I didn’t mind. I had my new gym bros, I had Coach, and I had Mikey. Mikey worked out almost round the clock, so we’d still work out next to each other, he’d give me pointers, report infractions to Coach. He was a good best friend. A few days I joined the first evening session, I started really noticing the changes. First off was my body. I was becoming ripped! After a month of my new diet and hard routine I had shed the layer of fat I’d developed sitting in an office and put on some hard muscle. Even the definition was starting to come through. We spent so much time together, he was always pushing me, helping me get bigger, stronger. The only time he ever got angry at me was the one time in the sauna. We’d had a hard evening session, kept back by the coach an extra few minutes, so by the time we hit the locker room everyone was starting to filter out the sauna and get changed. The sauna smelled ripe; the benches were covered in smears of cum, sweat was heavy in the air. The only thing that would have made it better was if Coach had been there with his cigar again. That happened at least once a week, but you could never be sure when. I was thinking about Coach and his cigar as I sat there listening to the dull beat of the music, smelling the heady, manly scent, when Mikey shouted out. “Stop!”

I froze, eyes opening quickly. I’d never heard Mikey raise his voice before. I realised my hand had been absently playing with my dick as I sat there. I’d seen Mikey doing it, but he was staring at me, rage burning bright in his eyes. He grabbed my hand and bodily heaved me from the sauna. My feet found no purchase on the tiled floor as I scrabbled against him, trying to break free. He threw me unceremoniously at Coach’s feet as soon as he walked in. I lay there, unsure whether I would be allowed to rise or not. Coach listened patiently to Mikey, and looked down at me. “You’re only allowed to cum in the sauna once you’ve completed your training boy.” He explained calmly. “Feeling a bit hot under the collar?” I nodded furiously, my dick leaking pre-cum onto the gym floor. “Then let’s see what I can do about that.” He had Mikey and two of the boys drag me into the showers and turned the cold water on. As my hardon slowly started to fade, Coach came over with a small black device. With a quick grasp at my cock, with a shock he shoved My dick inside and clamped it shut with a ring around my balls. He finished it off with a small padlock. I was so turned on my cock immediately swelled, pushing are against the confines of the chastity cage. It was agony. It was bliss! “That will keep you focused boy. No distractions!”

After a day or two I stopped even noticing it. It felt nice cushioned against my gym shorts, and kept me from wanking. As Coach says, a waste of protein. Tight wife beaters, the shortest, tightest lycra shorts became the only things I’d wear outside work. Sometimes I even wore them under my suit. I wore a wrestling singlet a few times and loved how easy it was to work out in. How it showed me off. The first time he saw it, Coach just gave me a long, slow look up and down which set my cock racing and my hole twitching, and then nodded. A nod from coach was something his boys would do anything for; that day I worked my arse off just to show Coach I was worthy of it. That was a week ago. I was finally pushing at my limits, competing with the real men I worked with. All you guys following me online have never been happier with the content I shared! Finally, after three months, tonight it happened. I was finally turned into a real man.

I had pushed myself hard at the gym all day. I’d even headed ‘home’ from work early just so I could get some extra time in. Something big was happening and I wanted to show I was ready. I hadn’t bothered wearing much, just the sweaty jockstrap Coach had given me. It was the best goddam workout I’ve had. There was only one squat where my form wasn’t perfect. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a god. A dirty, smelly, muscular god. My cock pushed against my cage as I looked at myself. As I revelled in the attention and appreciative looks the other blokes in the gym gave me. I was now one of the ones I’d stared at when I first joined. I heard the familiar clunk of boots behind me and immediately stood to attention as Coach walked in. I marched up to him smartly and told him about my poor form. I prostrated myself and begged Coach to punish me. The huge man grinned as I went over his knee for thirty of his best ones, his had smacking against my ass, the noise ringing across the weights room as the others looked on.

“You’re ready boy.” he said gruffly, and gave a slow, solitary nod. I grinned with pride as I went back to my workout. That evening after hours Coach worked us harder than ever. In an unusual break to our routine he finished us early and we made our way to the locker room. Coach didn’t bother changing as he marched into the sauna, jockstrap and leather harness glinting in the darkness. He barked at Mikey to fetch his cigars, and pointed at me. Mutely, I followed my Coach. “It’s initiation boy, you ready to become a real Man?” “Yes Coach!” I whispered, breathless. “I asked, ARE YOU READY BOY?” my dick shot against my cage. “YES COACH! PLEASE COACH, PLEASE SIR!” He grinned, and pulled me into a slow, gruff kiss. Every muscle in me quivered as he pressed my body to his, thick arms encircling me, holding me. I’d never kissed a guy before, and here was a proper MAN finally proving to me how I could be a real man. Not some faggot, not some pathetic pussy lover, but a fucking MAN. I gave myself to him. Gasping for breath, he pulled me into the dark sauna. He sat on one of the benches and pulled his huge, meaty dick from beneath the jockstrap. It slapped wetly against his thigh. I couldn’t look away. Not even as Mikey came in and knelt before Coach, lighting his cigar for him. Coach began puffing heavily, drinking in the sight of me. Holding the cigar for a second he blew a huge fog of smoke at me. I gulped it in.

“Mount my dick boy.”

In those four words, my world changed. Without a seconds hesitation, I crawled towards him, stood on the bench he sat on, and held tight by Coach’s thick arms, I lowered myself down. Mikey, best friend as always, held Coach’s throbbing cock up, spreading my cheeks as they came together, helping me lower inch by painful inch. I felt like my hole was being ripped apart. I felt like I would scream, or cry. I felt like I never wanted it to stop. I looked into Coach’s dark eyes, lit by the glow of the cigar, wreathed in smoke. He didn’t miss a single second. He watched as he took my anal virginity, watched the old Andy bleed away, and this new man take his place. The man my Coach had created. After what felt like an age, Mikey’s hands left my ass cheeks, and I realised I’d taken all of it. My hole was wrapped around the base of Coach’s pulsing dick, my thighs pressed tightly to his. It felt so sore, but so good. I didn’t think anything could feel that good. Then Coach began to thrust. Slowly at first, lubing up my wet hole, but soon quicker and quicker. My breath came rapidly, stars exploding behind my eyes. I could hear Mikey beside us, wanking furiously as he watched. Before long, I noticed all of them were there. All of my gym bros, crowded around us, eyes almost closed in bliss as they watched Coach turn me into a man. The smell of cigars and sweat were soon mixed with cum as Mikey roared out, spraying his load across my chest and Coach’s. It was quickly followed by another. Then another. Some guys would stand on the benches, their spray cumming over me, thick globs of tasty semen hitting my face and open mouth. Others spunked across my ass and back, enjoying the sight of cum dripping heavily amongst the sweat. They took it in turns, rotating, first one load, then a second. Mikey managed three before he grunted, his piss splashing onto us, soaking Coach and I. Coach loved it, roaring in approval as load after load, piss after piss, soaked us. I bucked wildy, ramming my hold against Coach’s cock, enjoying the feeling of his hot dick inside me. I could feel my own load building, after a month in this goddam cage. My cock was straining the cage to its limits, pre-cum already slick and spilling down my dick and onto Coach’s stomach. “Ready boy?” Coach roared at me as the others pulled back. “YES COACH, FUCK ME COACH!” I screamed, barely able to think beyond that huge cock I was riding. With a bellow, Coach’s dick pulsed in my hole, and I felt the spray of hot, heavy cum breeding my hole. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. Even in the cage, my cock convulsed in orgasm. I nearly blacked out it was so strong, cum pouring from my dick and onto Coach as he kissed me, the taste of piss, sweat, cum and cigar all in one.

My new brotherhood of men helped me off Coach. They didn’t bother cleaning up, so neither did I. Instead, I knelt as Coach stood. I knew immediately what I had to do. I began to lick all the sweat from Coach’s pits. All the piss coating his legs. All the cum from his chest. Finally, I licked his cock clean of cum, loving the taste of it mixed in with the taste of my virgin hole. Once Coach was cleaned, Mikey picked up a jockstrap from the floor and handed it to him. He bestowed it to me as he looked down like a God. I quietly put it on. Right across the front of the waistband was one word: GYMBOX.

I’m now a Gymbox Ambassador, and all you faggots better fucking join.


Andy signed off with the photo Mikey had taken of him as Coach fucked him. His dick threatened to erupt again, so Andy closed the laptop and fondled his now free cock. One of the benefits of being a real man. His hole twitched and he went to find the dildo Mikey had given him as a celebration, wondering if he should clean off the stench of piss and cum before he met that client tomorrow. For some reason he was really excited about the meeting, and he didn’t think his client would mind…


A few miles away, Coach read the blog and smiled. He picked up the phone and dialed a number. He waited a few moments, his heart thudding in his chest as it always did. Finally the click of an answer.

“Sir, it’s done.” he said, beaming. “Well done Coach Bennett, I knew you had it in you.” Coach’s dick pressed hard against his jockstrap as his hole twitched in anticipation. “Thank you Master. He will be ready for you tomorrow.” “Everything has been prepared?” “Yes Sir. I’ve typed up his resignation, he’ll hand it in tomorrow first thing. After that he’s yours. Exclusively. He’ll take care of your investments Master. You can take ownership of his apartment too. Rent it out for him; we’ll give him one of the bunks at the Gym. He’s making some decent money from his online work as well. You could tell him to keep that up, or stop it if you’d prefer. I know quite a few clients have asked if I’ll let them rent Andy for the night. Just let me know Sir.” “You’ve done well Coach Bennett.” “Thank you Sir.” “Come by tomorrow evening. Your reward can be witnessing your new project watch his beloved Coach take my cock. Show the lad who is the real boss.” Coach nearly came right there. “Thank you Master!” he said, already anticipating the feel of that hot cock as Andy watched. The lad had to learn. Coach would always be his Boss, but even Coach served his Master, and by proxy, all the boys he corrupted and turned were his Master’s too.

Coach grinned as the phone went dead, thoughts already on his Master’s cock, and whether he could find another recruit his Master would enjoy too. Find more lads to recruit at the gym now that Andy’s blog had provided an influx of new applications to join Gymbox…

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