Chapter 1

Debbie looked at her reflection in the mirror and back down at the card she held in her hand. She was not pleased with what she saw in either. What she saw was a middle-aged woman with a “matronly” figure; the face was still pretty, but the body had definitely softened with age.

Twenty-year high-school class reunion, she thought. Has it really been that long?

“Yes, it has,” she said aloud to the reflection, “and you’ve really let yourself go. You look like crap!”

She took stock of what six years of widowhood and the resulting inattention to her personal appearance had wrought. Thirty-eight years old, a pretty face with just a hint of the puffiness of the beauty that had been there before, shoulder-length blond hair, dark almost to the point of being brunette, tall at five feet ten with a bosom that would have been enormous on a smaller frame. Her legs had once been slender but now were beginning to thicken, especially as they flared into cellulite-covered thighs and a well-rounded buttocks. She was carrying about 30 more pounds than she should and looked it.

I can’t go looking like this! she thought. The least I can do is lose a little weight and get in shape! Looks like I better spend some time in the gym.

Walking over to the dresser, she rooted through the drawers for some workout clothes. Nothing she found seemed to fit. Everything was about two sizes too small; even the athletic bra fit her like the skin on a sausage. Settling for an old pair of her husband’s sweatpants and sweatshirt, she headed downstairs to the basement.

When her husband was killed in a commuter airline crash, the resulting insurance and lawsuit settlement had left her a fairly wealthy woman. With part of her newfound wealth, she had had a portion of the basement professionally remodeled into a small but well-equipped gymnasium. She had envisioned working out as a therapy to help deaden the pain of her loss, but also anticipated that her then 12-year-old son, Mark, would use it as he grew up. She had been half-right. While her grief therapy had consisted mostly of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, Mark had become seriously involved in athletics and spent a considerable amount of his time there.

Walking down the basement steps, she could hear loud music coming from the direction of the gym. As she opened the door and looked around, she was assaulted by the blaring sound. The gym was a well-lit, 20-by-30 area filled, but not overly crowded, with gleaming exercise and weight equipment. It looked even bigger than it was due to the mirrors that had been installed on every wall, giving an illusion of great depth to the room.

Debbie glanced around the room, and her eyes settled on her son off to one side. He was flat on his back at one of the machines, pushing a bar vertically into the air above his chest. She walked towards him, noticing the numbers on the weights behind his head as they rose and fell with the rhythm of his expanding chest. Two-hundred twenty pounds, they said. My God, she thought! He’s lifting almost one and a half times what I weigh!

As she approached the weight machine, Mark slowly lowered the bar, took a deep breath, and sat up.

“Oh, hi, Mom,” he said. “You need me for something?”

“No, honey. I just thought I would get a little exercise myself.”

“Great idea. I was just finishing up for today; do you want me to help you with anything?” He stood up and stretched. When he did, Debbie involuntarily took in a little breath.

Mark was now seventeen years old, almost eighteen, stood just over six feet tall, and weighed about 180 lbs. He was in superb condition with broad shoulders and a muscular torso that tapered down to relatively slim hips. His shirt was off, and she could see every muscle rolling beneath his skin as if they were chiseled in stone. He split his time between playing wide receiver on the varsity football team and the wrestling squad and looked every inch the athletic god that he was.

“He was state runner-up this year,” she thought to herself, “and next year he’ll be state champion.” Then it seemed to hit her all at once: “My God, he’s beautiful!” She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him without his shirt or wrestling singlet and was stunned by the sheer perfection of his body. The slight glistening of sweat covering his chest combined with the slight musk smell of a heated male animal magnified the sense of a herd bull in his prime. Her stomach suddenly felt like a knot had been twisted in her intestines. “No,” she thought, “not just my stomach, lower.” For the first time in over six years, Debbie felt a stab of desire between her legs, a warm, moist feeling that she had thought gone forever.

Trying to remain nonchalant, she turned her head away and said, “N-no, I think, well, I guess I’ll just try some of these on my own.”

“OK, Mom, whatever you say. I’m going to take a shower and get some studying done. Exams are coming up soon, and I want to be prepared. Do you want me to change the station for you before I leave?”

“No, this one is okay, but could you turn it down a little?”

“Sure, no problem! I like my head-banging tunes loud when I pump iron. Gets the juices flowing, ya know.” He flexed his chest and loudly grunted, “Uhr-raw!” He walked over and turned a knob on a panel next to the door. The volume of the music lessened considerably, and he headed into the combination shower/toilet next to the gym.

His final flex set off twinges in her lower abdomen again, and as she watched him stroll from the room, she couldn’t help but think, He is going to have to beat the girls off with a stick soon. Then another thought came to her unbidden. Or maybe they are going to have to beat his stick off! She couldn’t help but think, With that package up on top, what is the package like below? Blushing furiously at her last thought, she turned back to the gym.

“Where to start?” she asked herself aloud. Maybe a little run on the treadmill will “get the juices flowing”, she thought. Putting thought to action, she walked over to the machine in question. Having used it a few times when it was first installed, she had some slight idea of how it worked. Reaching over, she flipped the on/off switch. The treadmill softly hummed, and the long rubber tread started to move. The readout on the panel read “6 MPH.” Thinking that was awfully slow, she hit the increase-speed button until it was going 10 mph.

That should do it, she thought. The faster I go, the faster I’ll get rid of this flab!

Jumping onto the moving belt, she immediately found herself running as fast as she could just to keep from being thrown off. This is just what I need!

Five minutes later, she was breathing heavily and starting to sweat. After seven minutes, her heart was pounding, her lungs were on fire, and her legs began to feel like lead. At ten minutes, she couldn’t keep up and was practically thrown off the machine.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she gasped. She struggled up the treadmill’s readout and looked at the calories-burned reading: it said 10. She had about killed herself and had burned fewer calories than what she would get in one spoonful of ice cream! She felt like crying.

Over the next few weeks, Debbie did her best to continue with her workouts. She was convinced that the more she sweated, the more she would lose. She ran on the treadmill until it hurt and stopped, then tried some of the weights, but they hurt too much. Trying everything she could think of, and at the end of two weeks, she weighed herself again. She had lost only one pound! She was devastated!

Coming home from his last day of school, Mark found his mother with her head in her arms, sobbing at the kitchen table.

“Mom, what’s the matter? Are you all right?” he cried.

“Oh, Mark, I am such a mess!” she sobbed as she raised her head. “I tried and I tried, but I just can’t do it! I’m a cow, and that’s the way everybody is going to see me!”

“What are you talking about, Mom?” He was puzzled but could sense there was no immediate danger. “You’re no cow! What’s this all about?”

Debbie proceeded to tell him about the upcoming reunion and her attempts to get back into shape, her subsequent failure, and utter sense of hopelessness.

“Is this really that important to you, Mom? I mean, I think you’re pretty, and if you could stand to lose a few pounds, well, that’s okay too.”

“Yes, it’s important to me,” said Debbie. “I hadn’t realized just how important it was until now. For the past few years, I feel I have been drifting: no purpose, no focus, and no direction. I want that back. I want to feel good about myself; I want you to feel good about me! I feel like if I can’t do this, I’ll be a useless lump for the rest of my life.”

“Well, how about getting yourself a personal trainer, someone to come in and help you? Just like when my coaches run us through our conditioning. Sometimes it takes someone outside of ourselves to keep us motivated and focused on our goal.”

“Oh no! I can’t have some stranger in here. I just can’t!” Debbie started to sob again, but then she suddenly stopped and looked up at Mark. “But what about you? You’ve done this before, you know how to get in shape and stay there! You can do this for me!”

“I don’t know, Mom,” he hesitated. “I know what coaches do to us when we go through conditioning. It’s tough, even brutal! I don’t know if I could do that to you.”

“Please, you must! If you love me, you’ll help me! I don’t care how you do it, or what you do to me, just help me get this done! Please, Mark, I’m begging you! Please help me!” She grabbed his hands and looked desperately into his eyes.

“Okay, Mom, okay, I’ll help you all I can. But you know this isn’t easy. It’s going to take a lot of hard work, dedication, and motivation. You may even end up hating me before it’s all done,” he said, looking at her with an almost sad expression.

“Baby, I could never hate you! But I really need to do this, and not just for my silly reunion. I need to do this for me, so I can look myself in the mirror in the mornings, so I can have some pride in myself, and I want you to be proud of me too!” Debbie’s eyes were still puffy and red from crying, but there was a glint of determination there also.

“Okay,” Mark said, “then we start tomorrow. Today we begin by changing your diet, and you need to pick up some new workout clothes. I’ll get a training schedule set up and pick up a few things myself. You know, Mom,” Mark said with an evil gleam in his eye, “this is going to hurt you a lot worse than it’s going to hurt me!”

---

“Time to get up! Let’s go! Get out of bed!”

Debbie rolled over and looked at her clock. Six o’clock! She rolled back over and looked at Mark standing in the doorway. “You have got to be kidding. We’ll start in a few hours; now let me get some sleep.”

“Get out of bed, you fat cow! Move it!” Marks voice was loud but not to the point of shouting.

“Mark! You can’t talk to me that way. What are you thinking of?”

“From now on, you will address me as Coach. Not Mark, not son, not baby, or honey. Do you understand? If we’re going to do this, it will be my way or no way!”

Debbie took a short intake of breath and looked into the son’s unblinking eyes. What she saw sent a chill down her spine. She felt a little apprehension, a little confusion, and maybe even a little fear. But there was also a hint of something else, a warmth in the pit of her stomach, a sense of pleasure, just a hint, but still there. Here was someone who cared about me, someone who would take care of me. Someone to look up to after all these years.

“Yes, Mar ... Coach,” she whispered. “We’ll do it your way.”

“Good,” he said, “then get your ass down in the gym right now.” He turned around without a backward glance and strode away.

She got out of bed quickly, making her way to the bathroom where she did her business and put on her new spandex workout clothes she’d laid out the night before. Still a little lightheaded from sleep, she went down to the basement gym.

Mark was standing in the middle of the gym floor, looking straight at her as she entered the room. He had his feet placed shoulder-width apart and his hands clasped behind his back. His face showed no expression, and his eyes glinted like two pieces of pale blue ice. He was wearing a tight pair of nylon coach’s shorts and a gray t-shirt that emphasized rather than hid his muscular build. Her heart started beating rapidly when she saw him, wondering just what she’d gotten herself into. But like a rabbit caught by the eyes of a snake, she couldn’t do anything but stand there and tremble.

“You will start with warming-up exercises,” he said. “Watch what I do and follow along exactly.” He proceeded to show her how to stretch her legs, arms, abdomen, and back.

“You will begin and end each session with this routine. Do you understand?”

“Yes, dear ... I mean Coach.”

“Good, now begin.” Mark watched his mother try to repeat the stretching exercises he’d just shown her. His heart had been beating faster since he woke his mom up that morning. This is a real rush, he thought to himself. He had never felt this kind of power before, having always been on the receiving end of this kind of “coaching.” He could even feel his dick start to get semi-hard. It wasn’t that he found his mom all that sexually appealing ― in fact, the flab rolls squeezed out between her warm-up clothes were fairly unattractive ― but the thought of dominating and controlling someone was exciting. And while he was at it, he had to admit that even though she wasn’t in the best of shape, his mom did have a pretty face, and if she lost weight, could be very attractive. Debbie groaned as she finished her stretching and stood up.

“Now we will start you on the treadmill. This should get your heart rate up. Get up here, and let’s get you started.” Moving over to the treadmill, Debbie stepped onto the dreaded belt. Mark reached over and started the machine, setting the level at 3 mph. The speed was that of a comfortable, if fast, walk, so Debbie had no trouble keeping up. Mark picked up a clip that was attached to the treadmill by a long, thin wire. Uncoiling the wire, he attached the clip to her earlobe.

“This is a heart rate monitor. Your target heart rate is 120 beats per minute. Let’s see how long it takes you to get up to that level.” A small heart began to flash on the treadmill’s display, and the number 98 appeared next to it. After two minutes, the number started to slowly increase, first to 100, then to 105.

“This is pretty easy, Coach. I don’t think I’ll ever get to 120,” Debbie said with a smile.

“Just shut up and save your breath; in about five minutes, you’re going to need it!” Mark looked at her unsmilingly with ice-cold eyes. “You will not question me, do you understand?” When she didn’t say anything, he repeated, ”Do, you, understand?”

“Yes! Yes, I understand, uh, Coach!” That feeling in the pit of her stomach was back: a little fear mixed with a little excitement. God, he’s sexy when he speaks to me like that, she thought. Blushing at that thought, she turned and focused on the display: the heart rate now read 115.

“Good. Now listen while I explain your regime for the next few months.” He began to tell her how she would get up every morning for a brief one-and-a-half-hour warm-up followed by breakfast and a one-hour break. This would be followed by an intense two-hour workout. After lunch, there would be another one-hour break followed by another two-hour workout, a soaking in the hot tub, and then dinner.

“The rest of the evening will be yours, if you can move by then,” he said with a hint of a smile.

While he was explaining her program, beads of sweat began to break out on her forehead. What she thought was an easy pace was beginning to wear her down, and her breath started to come in little gasps.

Looking at the display, Mark saw her heart rate was now over 120, climbing up to 125. “Good,” he said, “you are now at your target rate. We will keep this up for the next 10 minutes.”

Debbie was starting to get tired and slowed down, moving back on the belt a little.

“Keep moving, bitch!” he shouted and gave her a light smack on the butt with his hand. The little tap, while not painful, surprised her so much that she involuntarily sped up to match the machine. In fact, it distracted her so much that she entirely forgot that he had just called her a bitch.

At the end of ten minutes, Mark turned off the treadmill and allowed her to get off. She was covered with sweat and visibly laboring for breath.

“Now we will continue the workout.” True to his word, Mark led her through a series of aerobic exercises and calisthenics for the next half-hour, ending with the stretching routine he had shown her earlier. By the end of the workout, she felt completely worn out.

“Good start. Now go get a hot shower and come upstairs for breakfast.”

His praise made her feel good and helped relieve the ache in her muscles. Although she wasn’t really that hungry, the thought of some breakfast made her stomach growl. She went next door, stripped for the shower, and got under the hot running water. As she exited the shower area, she remembered she hadn’t brought anything down to put on. The thought of putting on her sweat-soaked workout clothes didn’t appeal to her, so she put on one of the long, terrycloth robes they kept down there for just such an occasion.

When she walked into the kitchen, she found that breakfast had already been laid out. A glass of tomato juice, coffee, a large bowl of unsweetened cereal, and two eggs.

“I don’t think I can eat all this!” she exclaimed.

“You will,” said Mark. “Your body needs the fuel. Remember, this was just a light workout; the real workouts come later.”

As she sat, she could feel her muscles tighten. A feeling of lethargy seemed to pull her down into a dark pit. What was she thinking? She would never be able to do this! But she really had to try; she couldn’t give up this easily. What would Mark think of her? The thought of her son as he put her through the paces of the workout gave her that queasy feeling again, and maybe something more. She felt something like an itch between her legs. She crossed her legs and clamped down hard. She knew what she felt wasn’t right, but she was too tired to care, and besides, nobody but herself would know what she was thinking.

When they had finished breakfast, Mark got up and said, “You clean up in here. I want you down in the gym and ready to go in one hour.” With that, he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

“Who does he think he is?{/i} she thought. “Do I have House Slave written across my back?{/i} She grumbled to herself even as she cleaned up and put away the breakfast dishes.

One hour later, she discovered what Mark had meant by a “real” workout. After stretching, he led her through a series of rigorous exercises, including the stairclimber ― a truly hideous torture device ― weightlifting, and short runs on the treadmill. By the end, her muscles felt like jelly, and she could barely see straight.

Shower, lunch, clean, start again. By the end of the day, she felt like someone had beaten her all over her body. After the dinner dishes were done, it was almost more than she could do to drag herself to bed and cry herself to sleep.

The next four days were a nightmare. She felt like she had died and gone to Hell. Her body was continually in pain. She was so tired she couldn’t even work herself up to a good cry. Through it all, Mark had been relentless. “Move it, you bitch!” “Get your fat ass going, you cow!” Never once did he smile. His only praise was to now and then say, “Not bad for a fat broad.” Oh, how he must hate me, she thought. What did I do to deserve this?

By the end of the last workout on Friday, she could do nothing more than sit in the bottom of the shower stall, crying while the water poured down on her.

It took her a minute to realize that the water had stopped. She looked up to see Mark smiling with a big towel held out for her.

“Mom, you’ve done wonderfully. Come here and get dried off. I have a special surprise for you.”

At first, she could only think to herself, My God, he is seeing me naked! But she was too tired to even work up a concern. She stood up on wobbly legs while he began to towel her dry. When he finished, he draped her in a clean, dry towel and then wrapped her hair in a second towel. He took her hand and led her out of the shower into the changing room.

“Time to weigh in, Mom. Here, step up on the scales.” She noticed that a set of medical scales had been set up. He pulled her over to the scales and had her stand on them. Five pounds! That is all she had lost, just five pounds! Tears started to well up in her eyes.

“I only lost five pounds! Oh, Mark, I can’t do this! All this and only five pounds!” She started to cry and almost fell off the scales.

Mark grabbed her and pulled her to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “No, Mom, this is fantastic! Five pounds is a tremendous amount. This is a great start! I couldn’t be prouder of you!”

She sniffed and looked up at him. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yes, I do. Do you realize you have to burn off about thirty-five hundred calories just to lose one pound of fat? That’s one hell of a lot if you think about it, more than twice what you should eat in a normal day. That’s why it’s so damned hard for most people to lose weight and why it takes so long. Nobody said this was going to be easy or quick. Now, come over here. I have a special surprise for you.” He pulled her close again and kissed her forehead, sending a tingle up and down her body. Taking her hand again, he gently pulled her over to a low table that had been set up on the far side of the room. The table was about waist-high and had been draped with towels.

“I borrowed this from the school training room; they said I could use it for the summer. Now, lie down, face down, and let’s see if we can’t help those sore muscles of yours.” He turned her around and unbound the towel. Keeping it wrapped around her, he gently pushed her down onto the table, pulling the towel back and draping it over her so that it covered her buttocks and most of her back.

Oh, this is wonderful, she thought, he’s going to let me sleep for a while. Just as she was drifting off, she felt something wet and warm touch her calf.

“This is called therapeutic massage, Mom. It’s something they teach us in sports medicine. This is warm baby oil; it helps the massage and it’s pretty good for the skin too. Just try to relax; I think you’ll really like this!”

Starting with her foot and slowly working his way up her leg, he gently worked on her cramped muscles, concentrating on those areas where he felt knots and spasms. First one leg, then the other, his kneading fingers worked from the tips of her toes to the top of her thigh just below where the towel started.

Debbie was in heaven. She had never felt anything like this before. As intense as the pain had been, the pleasure was even greater. Half asleep, she felt like every nerve he touched burned with electricity. As he worked up to the top of her other thigh, her legs relaxed on their own, parting slightly. I don’t have any underwear on, she thought; I’ll bet he can see right up to my pussy! I really should do something about that, she thought dreamily. But just as she was beginning to stir, the hands left her thigh and started working on her neck and shoulders. Once he started working the tight knots out of her neck, all thoughts of moving disappeared. He can jump on and fuck me, she thought. I don’t care! Just so he doesn’t stop! Actually, the thought of having him jump on and fucking her brought a little smile to her lips and a little moisture to her vagina. It had been so long, and he was so handsome! What a nice little fantasy!

For his part, Mark couldn’t believe how good it felt to be massaging his mom! He knew he had been hard on her all week. He was determined to be ruthless, and he had been. But he also knew the first couple of weeks had to be the hardest, or they would get nowhere. He knew how good a massage felt on aching muscles, and he wanted to reward his mom for all the hard work she’d put in over the past week.

But he never thought of how good it would feel to him! The warm oil helped his hands glide over her flesh, finding the tense, stiff muscles and kneading out the knots. She was still overweight and looked it, but her skin felt good, and as he worked his way up her legs, they seemed to relax and open all by themselves. He could see her pubic hair under the edge of the towel where her legs met, and after her legs relaxed and parted, he could just barely see a little pink outline of her cunt lips! After finishing her legs, he had a raging hard-on, for his mom yet! As he reached the top of her thighs, she stiffened a little and started to move. He decided he had spent enough time there and started on her neck and shoulders. As soon as he touched her neck, he could feel her let go with a soft sigh and relax completely.

Pushing the towel down her back to just above her buttocks, he began working on her back and arms. Too soon, he was finished.

“Mom,” he said softly, “Mom, it’s time to get up. Here’s a robe. Why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed? I’ll have dinner ready in about half an hour.”

She moaned softly and climbed off the table, keeping her back to him. She stuck her arms into the robe he held for her and dropped the towel. Wrapping the robe around her and with his arms around her middle, he tied the belt. She turned around to face him, still within his arms, and leaned into him.

“That was the most wonderful thing I have ever felt,” she murmured into his chest. “Thank you, Mark.” Her eyes widened a little, and she pushed away. “I’m sorry, I mean Coach.”

“No, Mom,” he smiled, “it’s Mark now. It’s the weekend; I’m only the coach during the week. Your ass is mine during the week, but the weekends are all yours. You worked hard, and you deserve a break.” His smile dropped a little, and the icy glint was back in his eyes, “Within reason, that is, of course.”

“Yes, sir!” she said, that tingle coming back as he spoke. “I’ll just go upstairs and get dressed!” She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. “That was truly the most wonderful feeling I have ever had. When can I have another?”

Taking her hand in his, Mark said, “When you work hard. You earn a massage; it’s not automatic. Hard work, a massage; slack off, nothing.”

“Okay, baby, I understand. I’ll see you at dinner.” She leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. She turned and walked out the door. Mark brought his fingers to his lips. “I wonder what that was all about,” he thought. “Well, it’s nice no matter what.”

Chapter 2

Dinner was pleasant but nothing special. After doing the kitchen cleanup, she didn’t even think about whose job it was anymore; she wandered into the living room and sat down next to Mark on the couch while he watched TV. She curled up with her feet tucked under and dozed leaning against his shoulder. He put his arm around her and they cuddled there on the couch like it was the most natural thing to do.

The rest of the weekend was laundry, housecleaning, and grocery shopping: everything that she couldn’t get done during the week because she was too exhausted to even move. The one exception being that on Saturday night, Mark recommended that they go see a movie as a treat. Debbie thought it was wonderful, except when Mark forbade her from getting butter on the popcorn. The icy glare and the lowered voice, menacing when he said, “No butter, do you think we worked your ass off all week just so you can have butter on your popcorn?”

That look and the voice gave her a shiver she was expecting, with some anticipation if she was honest with herself. The tingle that little bit of domination gave along with a moistening of her vagina caused her to smile at herself. “My God!” she thought. “I feel like I’m dating my son!” They held hands through the entire movie; she hadn’t felt so alive in years!

Monday morning, the regimen started again. The workouts were back, and so was the coach. Mark was just as relentless and just as unforgiving as he had been the week prior. He called her names, smacked her ass when she didn’t move fast enough, and generally drove her as hard as he could. The difference was that now she had a goal other than her weight loss. She knew if she busted her butt, really put forth the effort, she would earn that small part of heaven that a massage gave her. And for the next three days, she sweated and pushed, really driving herself.

At the end of each day, there was Mark holding a towel for her as she left the shower. She didn’t even think about him seeing her naked anymore. It seemed so natural when he wrapped that towel around her and led her to the table where he would take her to nirvana!

Each time they would start the same way. She would lie face down on the table while Mark draped the towel over her buttocks. She could feel the tension and pain seem to ooze out of her pores as he started on her feet and slowly worked his way up to her calf, around the knees, and up to the meaty part of her thighs. By this time, their routine included a number of exercises designed to turn her “butt of flab” into “buns of steel,” and her butt cheeks ached and felt like they consisted of hundreds of tiny knots. She secretly wished he would keep going higher and use those magic fingers to relieve the soreness she felt, but she wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. She came close to begging him to massage her ass; the problem was it wasn’t just her butt that ached. With every caress, every slow kneading of her sore muscles, she could feel the desire build up in the pit of her stomach. Longings so long absent were beginning to resurface. She could feel her pussy first become moist, then wet, and finally it felt like her lubricating juices were flowing out and puddling on the table. When he touched her legs, they would go limp like they had been deboned, and they would spread, not wide enough to make it obvious, but wide enough to offer an unrestricted view of her sex.

All thoughts of modesty had been forgotten long ago. If he wants to see his mom’s old pussy, she thought, then let ‘im, he’s certainly earned it. It can’t be very interesting to him, she mused. He can probably have all the young cunt at school he wants. That thought brought a stabbing flare of jealousy to her stomach!

She was certainly wrong about his interest. Every day, the rush he received from dominating his mother got a little bit better. Each time he yelled at her, smacked her ass, or ordered her around, he felt a surge of excitement. This excitement began to manifest itself as a sexual excitement. He had to keep rigorous control of himself to keep from sporting a hard-on throughout their workout sessions. But when it came to the massage at the end of the day, that was impossible. Almost from the minute his mother lay on the table, his dick was as uncomfortably stiff as a piece of steel, and it remained so until he could get upstairs and jack off before dinner. Although he conscientiously worked over every part of her body, his favorite time was when we worked on her legs.

Almost like magic, her legs would relax and splay open when he began rubbing her feet. As he moved up her calf and toward the thigh, he would be privileged to see her vagina in all its glory. It’s not like she held her legs open for him, but he could see under the towel and view the wisps of soft brown pubic hair and the unbelievably pink slit of her cunt. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. He really wanted to feel her ass in his hands, soothe the still plump globes under his fingers. The rolls of fat were still there, but he could sense the change in her practically day by day. Her legs were becoming firmer; the “wings” under her arms were less pronounced, and as her abdomen tightened, her potbelly seemed to shrink. She still had a long way to go, but he had seen the pictures of her as a younger woman in a slinky one-piece bathing suit. She had been a real knockout and was getting back to there again.

By the second Thursday, Debbie was both physically and mentally exhausted. She could hardly drag herself out of bed that morning and was feeling cross and rebellious. She snapped at him when he corrected her on her technique, slowed down when he told her to keep moving, and smacked her ass. During the morning sessions, he continued with his heavy-handed coaching, seemingly ignoring her outbursts and temper tantrums. By the afternoon session, he became fairly quiet, offering quick, biting critiques of her performance and little more than superficial instruction. His eyes narrowed, and his lips formed a thin, narrow line. If she had looked, she would have been able to see the controlled anger reflected in his eyes. But Debbie was blissfully unaware of this. She became intoxicated with her seeming newfound power and independence. “We’ll see who’s in charge here,” she thought. “I’m the mom, and I’ll do what I want. He’s here to help me. I’m not here to please him,” she smirked.

At the end of the session, Mark left without a word. Debbie finished her stretching and strolled to the shower. She was still tired but nowhere near as exhausted as she normally was; it had been a much easier workout than usual. As the hot water flowed over her, she smiled to herself. She could already feel Mark’s hands on her body, the smell of the warm oil, and the sexual excitement of displaying herself to him. She turned off the water and turned, expecting to see him waiting to wrap her in that big, warm towel. Nobody was there. She looked out in the changing room. It was empty: no Mark, no table!

She started to panic. A little fear crept into her voice as she tremblingly said, “Mark, I mean, Coach? Where are you?” She felt like she had been punched in the pit of her stomach; there was a giant hole there, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

She quickly dried off, threw on a robe, and ran up the stairs and to the kitchen. Mark was finishing putting dinner on the table.

“Mark, honey, what’s wrong?” The words seemed to come out of her as a plaintive wail. There was no reaction from Mark; he acted like she was invisible, a nonentity.

“Please, Mark, I mean Coach, please talk to me! What’s wrong? What have I done? Please say something!” Tears were welling up in her eyes, and a choking sob escaped.

“What’s wrong?” Mark quickly turned towards her, his eyes like burning ice. “What’s wrong? You tell me what’s wrong!”

“I ... I don’t know what you mean,” all her bluster and bravado from earlier evaporated. Mark said nothing as he stared into her eyes and moved closer to her. He stopped when his face was about a foot from hers. This close, she could see the coldness in his eyes, the absolute lack of emotion. She suddenly felt terrified, like a frightened mouse staring into the eyes of a snake that was about to strike. She couldn’t turn away, and she began to tremble.

“I ... I guess I wasn’t very cooperative today. Maybe, that is, maybe I didn’t listen very well, and I suppose I didn’t work as hard as I should have...” Her voice trailed off, and tears started pouring down her cheeks. She started sobbing out loud and uncontrollably. He said nothing, looking at her with that unchanging expression.

“I’m so sorry! I’m sorry, Coach! Please give me another chance! I can do better, I will do better! Please give me another chance!” Crying uncontrollably, she reached out and hugged him tightly and slid down to her knees with the side of her face pressed into his groin.

“And if I give you another chance, what will you do to make up for this wasted day?” His voice was impassive, but she could feel his cock start to harden next to her face. She couldn’t believe how big it felt! Her fear was still there like a fist grabbing her in the pit of her stomach, but desire was suddenly a bright flame vying for position along with the fear. “My God!” she thought. “Maybe he’ll make me suck him off!”

Unconsciously, saliva started to flow in her mouth. What would she do if that was what he wanted? She already knew what her answer would be: if that is what he told her to do, she would do it! It was all she could do to stop herself from yanking down his shorts and cramming that monster into her mouth! She wanted her own son to face-fuck her! She wanted to feel him cum in her mouth and taste his juice!

“I’ll do anything! Anything you tell me to! Just please give me another chance!” She hugged him even tighter, forcing her face up against the outline of his stiffening member.

He reached down, grabbing her by her shoulders, and gently but firmly pushed her away from him.

“Very well,” he said. “You will be in the gym at 7:00. We’ll have a special workout to make up for your poor performance today. Now get to the table and eat.”

With an intense sense of relief, she stood up and walked to the table and sat down. She was ecstatic that he was giving her another chance, but she also felt disappointed. She had wanted him to use her! She knew she had turned him on; she had felt that! Why didn’t he take advantage of that chance? She could only believe that he thought she was too old, too fat, and too ugly. She teared at the thought but sat upright in her chair and determined that she would finish this regime. She would lose this weight, she would become someone her son could be proud of, someone he could desire!

They finished dinner in silence. Afterwards, while Debbie was cleaning up, Mark went downstairs to the gym.

At 7:00, Debbie entered the gym. Mark was standing in his normal position. He looked at her and smiled; it was not a kind smile. Debbie cringed, and a slight shudder went through her body. “Stretch,” was all he said.

Debbie started her stretching exercises, trying to do them as perfectly as she knew how. When she had finished, he pointed to the stair machine. Her heart sank. Of all the routines they employed, the stair machine was the worst.

Designed to simulate climbing a flight of stairs, the machine could be set for different velocities and levels of resistance. The worst feature was that if the user didn’t keep up with the set speed, a buzzer sounded, letting everybody know you were falling behind. Whenever Debbie used it before and slowed down, the buzzer would sound, and Mark would give her a sharp smack on the butt. It was designed to work the calves, thighs, and butt muscles; it hurt worse than anything else in the gym. Well, I guess I deserve this, she thought as she tentatively approached the machine.