.o14 Muscular Training
Bruises were topically applied to the insides of arms and thighs. Spiraling out in their discoloration, sweat covering them like lacquer. She pressed on, toning and sculpting a once flabby body to perfection. A trainer of raven's wings loomed near by, keeping a watchful eye. Difficulty stood in the way of perseverance, while bubblegum flattened down in slick sheets. A promise, to a friend that resulted in being fit, was loosing the pounds that made wobbling flesh. The same friend of spectacular curves served to put the woman on a diet and a regimen of athletic trials.
With that an attractive slag that barely did his job, flipping it to another in bound hair. They looked to be related she speculated, from a leg press and tramped towels. It all was a continuous cycle. A miasma of noise overwhelmed eardrums, along with the rhythmic pound of a blood filled organ. She watched as the trainer of her friends hiring argued with the one she was foisted upon. She tried she really tried to loose the weight, to be come the next Barbie though the fat was not coming off as quickly as she wished. Though reassurance came in heaps from celery slogging co-workers, the feeling of incompetence filled in where confidence should have been.
To be thin was a fairytale, as being copious was a reality. So it didn't hurt to try and train once active muscles. What did she have to loose? A date with some guy who cared nothing for posturing intelligence, or the attention she so deserves? The entire thing was worth a try, while that trainer signaled to move to another machine. Every week, she was in there on multiple circuits of aerobics and weights. All under the hawk eye of a lounging man.
It slowly began to work after some time, carefully counting calories, carbs and sugars. Muscles started to appear, like mushrooms popping out from dewy lawns and flesh strangulated over. Tightening in response to the newfound glory of athleticism. Still those bruises remained upon her limbs, caustically reminding of what she once was. The relationship between the two; the trainee and the trainer was platonic though he seemed to care much more about her work out cycles then the others that came and went. It all took time, carefully measured in the hours and days toiled in a gym.
Soon a desired outcome branched out, from a cocoon into a butterfly. She shook the hand of the trainer who looked quite thrilled at the stellar achievement. He mouthed a see you again when you come to work out and she nodded easily, a smile embracing her form. Joyously bouncing out of the center and in to the world.
Authors note:
Sakura is the over weight one and Madara is the trainer she got foisted on to. Though he doesn't do much.
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