Spring Training By Colt45

Chapter 1

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

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

"Yes it has," she said to herself, "and you have 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 under the puffiness of the beauty that had been there before, shoulder length blond hair, dark almost to the point of being brunette, tall at 5'10" with a bosom that would have been enormous on a smaller frame. Legs that had once been slender but now were beginning to thicken, especially as they flared into cellulite covered thighs and a well rounded buttocks. At 160 pounds she was carrying 30 more lb's then 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 her dresser she started rooting through the drawers for some workout clothing. 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 husbands’ sweatpants and sweatshirt she headed down stairs the basement.

When her husband was killed suddenly 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 off season time there.

As she walked 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 almost assaulted by the blaring sound. As she looked around she saw a well-lighted, 20'by 30' area filled, but not overly crowded, with gleaming exercise equipment. The area looked even bigger than it was mainly due to the mirrors that had been installed on every wall. These gave the illusion of great depth to the room.

As Debbie glanced around the room 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. 220 pounds they said. My God, she though! 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 mom. I was just finishing up for today, you want me to help you with anything?"

He stood up and stretched. When he did Debbie involuntary took in a little breath.

Mark was now seventeen years old, almost eighteen, stood just over six feet tall and weight 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 wrestling squad and he looked every inch the athletic god that he was.

"He was state runner-up this year," she thought to herself, "and next year he will 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 singlelet on and was stunned by the shear perfection of his body. The slight glisten 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 non-pulsed she turned he head away from him 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 ok, 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 you know." He flexed his chest and loudly grunted "Uh-raw!" He then walked over and turned a knob on a panel next to the door. The volume of the music lessened considerably and walked 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 he unbidden, "or maybe THEY are going to have to beat his stick off!" She also couldn't help but think, "With that package up on top what is the package like down below?" Blushing furiously at this last thought she turned back to the gym.

“Where to start?” she asked herself. 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 on 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!"

She jumped onto the moving belt and 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 treadmills readout and look 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 loose. She ran on the treadmill until it hurt and stopped. Tried some of the weights but they hurt too much. She tried everything she could think of and at the end of two week she weighed herself, she had lost only one pound! She was devastated!

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

"Mom, what's the matter? Are you alright?" he cried.

"Oh Mark, I am such a mess!" still sobbing as she raised her head. "I tried and I tried but I just can't do it! I am 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. "Your no cow, what is this all about?"

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

"Is this really that important to you mom? I mean I think your pretty and if you could stand to lose a few pounds, well that’s ok too."

"Yes it is important to me," said Debbie, "I hadn't realized just how important it was until just how. For the past few years I feel I have been drifting, no purpose, no focus, no direction. I want that back. I want to feel good about myself, I want you to feel good about me! I feel that if I can't do this I will 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 have 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 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 am begging you, please help me!" She grabbed his hands and looked desperately into his eyes.

"Ok mom, Ok, I'll help you all I can. But you know this is not 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."

"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 also!" Debbie's eyes were still puffy and red from crying, but there was also a glint of determination there also.

"Ok," 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 worst than it hurts me!"

"Time to get up! Lets go, get out of bed!"

Debbie rolled over and looked at her clock. 6:00 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 at 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 are going to do this it will be my way or no way!"

Debbie took a short intake of breath and looked into he 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 cares about me, someone who will 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 that she laid out the night before. Then still a little lightheaded with sleep she walked 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 faced showed no expression and his eyes glinted like two pieces of pale blue ice. He was wearing a tight pair of nylon coaches 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 had 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 had just showed 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 dick start to get semi-hard. It wasn't that he found his mom all that sexually appealing, if fact the flab rolls squeezed out between her warm-up clothes were fairly unappealing, 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 belt. Mark reached over and started the machine, setting the level at 3 mph. The speed was that of a comfortable, if quick, 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. Lets see how long it takes you to get up to that level." A small heart begin to flash on the treadmills 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.

"You just shut-up and save your breath, in about 5 minutes you are 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, "I said, 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 hart 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 and 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 to her 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 he gave her, while not painful, surprised her so much she involuntarily sped up to match the machine. In fact it distracted her so much 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 lead 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 striped 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 that 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 latter."

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, besides 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 to 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 ready to go in one hour." With that he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

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

One hour latter she discovered what Mark had meant by a "real" workout. After stretching he lead her through a series of rigorous exercises including the stair climber, a truly hideous torture device, weight lifting 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 handle 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 a good cry. Through it all Mark had been relentless. "Move it you bitch!" "Get you 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 ever 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 have 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 wrapped 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. The digital readout displayed 155. 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, now I have a special surprise for you. Come over here." 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 have it for the summer. Now lay 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 back 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 awhile. Just as she was drifting off she felt something wet and warm touch her calf.

"This is called therapeutic massage Mom. Its 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 will 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, 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 herself the hands left her thigh and started working on he neck and shoulders. Once he started working the tight knots out of her neck all thoughts of moving were gone. 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 had put in over the past week.

But he never thought 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 barley see a little pink outline of her cunt lips! After finishing her legs he had a raging hardon, for his mom yet! As he reached the top of her thighs she stiffen 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 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 and 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. He wrapped the robe around her and with his arms around her middle 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, "its 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 this week and you deserve a break." His smile dropped a little and the ice 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.