At Work

Disclaimer: Written for a friend who wanted EXACTLY to read this one fantasy of hers. As always get FULL CONSENT on anything you may do. Warning, triggering text, so stop reading if rape or violence hurts you.

Working in a gym allows you to see all kind of people, it's like observing a social experiment. Most of the guys come to watch the girls and warm the machines, using them for little time, leaving just before they break sweat. You see so many people that come just to be seen, that spend more time talking than working, and worse, leering at you.

You love to work the latest shift. You are allowed to work out the last hour before closing time, and you are always surrounded by those who take excercise seriously, people that you call partners, friends, people who work together and motivate each other, who wish to superate themselves at each other.

There's that shy guy, you would mistake for a bookworm with his ridiculous haircut, his glasses and clumsiness, until he takes out his shirt and shows up a lithe sculpted torso. The old trucker, who always says he will lose weight, but no matter how much he works out, he doesn't lose a gram, but is strong as an ox. The man in his forties who speaks little, concentrates and works out methodically like if he were some kind of robot. The pair of women, dancers, whose strength is shy of amazing, and propably their thighs could snap an adult man in two.

You have a little weakness for the young redhead, who started thin as a filament three months ago, and his progression is shy of amazing; or the handsome guy that has an endurance of a madman, he can run until the exhaustion of those who are looking at him.

In total there would be ten or twelve people late at night in the gym, those who you share smiles and recognition. Who knows, perhaps a bit more than that if any of you dared to do the first step.

---

You bid them all goodbye and close the shop. You need to take a shower and you are dreaming of coming back home to get a well-deserved slumber. You feel satisfied because of the aching on your sore muscles. It's been a good day.

You lose your thoughts under the water pouring on your neck and your shoulders, washing up all the sweat and fatigue.

Suddenly a clacking sound was heard and all lights died out, the mecanical ventilation in the showers stopped fanning, and the room got dim-lit by the emergency lighting. The fuses have been playing funny for months, and you cursed bitterly thinking they died just now.

You went naked walking to the dressing room. You wanted to get dressed and leave the fuses problem to the guy that would open the gym the next morning.
When you are crossing the door, someone puts a black coarse bag on your head. You yelp of surprise. He tightens the noose of the bag in your neck. You try to hit him flailing your arms, but you are disoriented and you miss every single one of your punches.

You receive a strong hit on one of your cheeks that send your head spinning. More punches fall upon your face and body like a wall of bricks toppling upon you. Pain is just overwhelming.

He lifts you from the floor as if you weighted nothing. He carries you unceremoniously on his shoulder. After a little walk he drops you heavily on a mattress, the kind you have at the gym storage room.

More beating are followed by coarse groping, fingering. Your mind is floating, dazzled, under the black bag that blinds you. Even breathing is difficult. Your hands are tied up to something heavy over your head, your ankles too, keeping your legs spreaded and your sex exposed.

You feel how he is raping you. Your senses seem to be sharpened by the lose of sight. You can feel the smells, the, the condom he put in before penetrating you, you try to figure who he is by the gruntings. He has not spoke a word since.

Who could be? A stranger? Undoubtly. He is fit and strong, he manhandles you with ease. There's a mix of sweat and chemicals in the air. He's big.

Would he be the sweet shy guy with the glasses? The trucker that calls you "sweetheart" every evening? The hot robot man? Would he be the redhead? The undefatigable runner? COULD THEY BE TWO OF THEM? Or three? Or every single one of them, watching, touching and raping you?

The thought was lingering on your mind and it began as a warmth on your guts, an impossible excitation. Suddenly you begin taking more pleasure than what you should have. Yor rational mind should be disgusted at the fact that a stranger is raping you, your wicked mind is telling you the opposite.

One, two, three men abusing and beating you for long time, who knows, who cares. You wonder who may be the one who is humping you, whose hands are all over your body, whose punches are bruising you up.

---

The beating and raping ends and you are left alone for quite long. You try to move, but your wrist and ankles are still tied up. You start to cry and meep. You feel your body as if it weren't yours any more, swollen, bleeding, aching, extra sensitive. Even breathing feels painful.

A man steps in. This one doesn't smell like sweat. From behind your mask you feel he is someone new. He liberates your ankles and unties your wrists. You curve into yourself in a ball, trying to recover some soothness and dignity. Everything aches, everything hurts.

+ So, how are you feeling? + you know that voice!! It cannot be him!

He retires the bag from your head. Your face is sweating, bleeding from nose and lips, but throgh your unswollen eye you recognize him.

+ We haven't seen each other since our Holidays at the lake...

- You.. what are you doing here?

+ Well, this took a lot of coordination and planning, I couldn't miss it for anything in the world.

- This... this raping was your idea?? - You looked at him angrily, flames burning in your blood.

+ You've been telling me for years how much you would like this to happen. "I want to get raped at the gym", "There's a new guy I am weak in my knees for", "I want them to beat me unconscious", "I am so wet all day at work". + he smiles + As I said, it took a lot of time and resources to prepare.

- Who.. who was him? or them ? - the man smiled.

+ I won't say. One person or some people we both can trust fully. + He winks. After all, now it’s midnight past and today is important.

- Important how? why? - You ask naively. You touch the swollen knots on your face cautiously with your fingertips.

+ Because it’s your damn birthday!. Happy birthday!!! + He kisses your forehead and puts on your hand a small box with a lot of decoration. + Now get dressed, I am inviting you to dinner and get drunk!

---

When you go back to the gym, you are welcomed by your usual patrons, with lots of gifts , music and a big cake. You are full of bruises and swellings, one of your eyes is half shut, and you smile with difficulty. That evening everyone cheers and laughts, even the robot man is revealed to be a magnificent dancer.
And they smile at you, none shocked at the state you are in, they toast and merry.

Which one of them must have been on the loop? One? Some? Or all of them...?

You can always count on your monster of a friend.