Atlas Gym: Saturday Afternoon [9/20]

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine knew there was trouble going down on the island, and normally that would mean you'd find her hiding in her room eating cookies and obeying "Stay the heck out of trouble" orders, but, well... she was out of COOKIES.

Clearly this constituted an emergency.

Thus the reason you would now find Francine walking past Atlas Gym carrying a large box of fresh-baked J,GoB cookies.

Until an arm reached out to tug her towards the doors.
__
[OOC: Francine's here for her modded-with-permission nemesis, but Atlas is open like a gym locker with the lock filed off.]

Comments

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

A frighteningly muscular arm, at that, attached to a body that was all just as muscular.

Except for the area known in technical terms as the gluteus maximus. To all appearances, that one didn't even seem to exist.

"Hi there," said Frighteningly Muscular Woman, smiling broadly in that 'ooo, shiny new project' kind of way.

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine just stared for a moment - first at the arm, because, um, wow and then at the complete lack of gluteus thingimus. "Uhhhh, what? I mean hi? I mean what?"

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

The box of cookies got a Very Disapproving Tsk.

"Francine? Monica. Your personal trainer. You're here to work out, right?"

It wasn't actually a question. Because would you want to argue with those arms?

She noticed the staring and glanced behind her. "Something the matter? Do I have something on my pants?"

[thatsamilkshake]

"What?" No, and nothing in them apparently, either. "Uh, no, sorry." To the thing that wasn't a question, too.

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

Monica clapped her hands together, clearly eager to dispense with the small talk and make with the so-not-dirty sweating.

"Okay! Francine, what do you want to accomplish in your workouts?" she asked, leading Francine over toward -- dun dun DUN -- the weighing scale. "What's your goal?"

[thatsamilkshake]

"Workouts? Nononono." Francine shook her head, still staring at Monica. Was she for real? Could she be real, and not, like, a product of Fandom magic? Maybe she was really a pony and just woke up looking like that? "I think you've got the wrong girl. My goal is to get home with these cookies."

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

Monica folded those arms (they really should come with an ominous theme song) over her chest and looked at Francine with about a half second's worth of indulgence.

And then she whipped out the clipboard.

"Oh, no, you're definitely the right girl," she said, studying the clipboard. "You're on my schedule for right now. Francine Peters, measurements . . . hmmm," she trailed off, shaking her head.

"Maybe we should double-check those, just to make sure," she said, and out came the measuring tape. It wasn't that she needed to use it; she just liked this part.

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine jumped back from the tape, and from Monica, eyes wide and darting back and forth. "I, no, who, WHAT?"

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

"You have to be honest with yourself, Francine," Monica persisted, advancing on her with the tape. "You need to know where you are today to see progress tomorrow! Now, bust, I'm guessing . . . "

[thatsamilkshake]

"I know where I am today, I'm--" She shrunk back against the nearest weight-related torture device, trying to remember. Oh yeah, in Hell. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't say that out LOUD. Oh my GOD!"

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

Monica -- no, that wasn't a gleeful little grin -- leaned over, cupped her hand around her mouth, and whispered something.

Probably nothing favorable.

[thatsamilkshake]

Omigodomigodomigodomigod... "THAT COUNTS AS OUT LOUD!"

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

Monica just nodded sagely, like she was used to this, and gestured toward the scales, which were emblazoned with a big, bold "HONEST ABE" logo. "Time to weigh you," she announced. "C'mon, it won't bite!"

[thatsamilkshake]

"We're in Fandom! You don't know that!" Francine shook her head wildly.

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

Monica held up the measuring tape again. "I could always just do more measurements and figure it out . . ."

[thatsamilkshake]

"Ahhhhhh nononono! No, that's fine, really! Put that away!" Francine -- still holding the ginormous box of cookies, mind you -- stepped OH so gingerly onto the scale.

With her eyes closed.

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

Cookies or not, the number on the scale wasn't one she was about to read aloud, and Monica let out a very noncommittal "Hmm."

"Looks like we have some work to do." She snapped her fingers and pointed at the weight machines.

Because that was ever so tactful.

[thatsamilkshake]

"...Okay!" Francine dropped the box of cookies. "There, I lost a pound! Whew, do I feel healthier! Thanks so much for the help! Nice meeting you!" She attempted to back off the scale and, well, flee.

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

The other thing about having a build like Monica's was that it was useful for making people have to work to get around it.

"Treadmill's over that way if you want to do some running," she said cheerfully.

[thatsamilkshake]

"Well, there's really a lot of definitions for want," Francine muttered as she let herself be herded towards the treadmill, seeing no easy way around the woman that didn't involve a steamroller that, dammit, she didn't happen to have handy.

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

"Up you go," Monica said, and the closer they got to the instruments of torture the more cheerful she seemed to get. She turned a knob on the treadmill, and it hummed to life, the belt moving at a very slow crawl. "A little cardio never hurt anyone!"

[thatsamilkshake]

Too bad, Francine thought mutinously as she took that last unwilling step up onto the machine. And then the next unwilling step because hey, the ground kept moving under her.

Maybe if I let her get it running really really fast and then just stand still, it'll throw me off and knock her across the room?

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

"That's it," Monica encouraged, that smile getting more and more disturbingly cheerful. "Baby steps! We'll have you running in no time!"

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine walked faster, huffing and puffing, imagining every step was landing right on Monica's perky, perky face.

No, what would be even better than her feet landing on Monica's face? Something heavier and blunter. Like a ton of bricks. Or... My butt! That's it! I'll get this thing going so fast that when I fly off I'll land on her and SMOOOOOOOOOOSH!

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

Monica jumped in front of the treadmill, clapping her hands and shouting encouragement like a demented cheerleader on steroids.

"That's it, Francine! Step it up a little!"

If anyone wanted to imagine a big red bulls-eye on her forehead, this picture right now was just about perfect for that.

[thatsamilkshake]

She'd step it up, all right, Francine thought as her eyes narrowed and she stomped faster, using the sight of the trainer in front of her as a perverse motivation. She'd march herself right off the end of the treadmill and stomp stomp stomp SMOOSH.

Monica would scream LET ME UP and pound her fists against the floor, but Francine would just bounce a little on top of her, knocking more air out of those creepily over-developed lungs. DIE, YOU BUTTLESS FREAK! she'd shout. And no cookie-loving jury in the world would convict her.

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

"There we go!" Monica just about cheered, wrapped up in the thrill of watching someone's heartrate rocket (she could probably almost hear it) and thus unaware of any lurid fates being plotted for her. "You're off to a great start! Now let's ratchet it up a notch!"

And she reached out, and tweaked the speed knob.

[thatsamilkshake]

Gaaaaaaaaah! Francine blew sweaty hair out of her face and then immediately regretted it because she needed that air. For at least the next 30 seconds until her heart exploded. "Start? Start?" Yeah, speaking was a mistake too.

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

"No pain, no gain, Francine!" Monica yelled over the sound of the treadmill.

Because spouting sports cliches was just so likely to make Francine more kindly disposed toward her, really.

[thatsamilkshake]

"Thought you... wanted..." Huff. Puff. Gasp. "Me to lose." Wheeze.

Gain. That was it. She wouldn't kill Monica. She'd cram the entire box of cookies down the woman's throat. And then another. And then another. Until she not only possessed a butt, it would be so huge she wouldn't be able to stand up even after Francine rolled off her!

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

"That's just it!" Monica looked almost giddy. "The beauty of exercise, Francine, is that losing is winning!"

[thatsamilkshake]

Maybe Francine had reached the stage of oxygen deprivation where she was hallucinating, but the stretch in her muscles was almost starting to feel.... oh God. No. It couldn't possibly feel good to be exercising. "NooooOOOOooooOOOOoooooooooooo!"

It had to be the crazy talking, but for a moment she had the oddest feeling she owed the Ethics teacher money.

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

"Okay, good start, Francine! I think now's a good time to stop for the day."

Was it possible that somewhere beneath those scary muscles, Monica was actually merciful deep down inside?

. . . nah.

She just had other clients.

[thatsamilkshake]

"You w---want me to stop?"

Francine wasn't sure her legs even worked that way anymore.

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

"Did you want to keep going forever?" Monica asked.

Innocently.

[thatsamilkshake]

"...Not when I came in here. What did you DO to meeeeeeee?"

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

"Hopefully --" Bright, slightly disturbing smile again. "Gotten you hooked on the joys of exercise!"

[thatsamilkshake]

"I haaaaaate youuuuuu..." Francine gasped, still running.

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

The very last bit of that "Youuuuu" was suddenly much louder, owing to the sudden lack of treadmill noise.

Monica? Still basking in the glow of other people's exertion.

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine? Running forward into the monitor panel, then falling back to collapse in a puffing, sweaty heap.

Sadly not on top of Monica.

[thebuttless1der.livejournal.com]

Monica was happily scribbling away on her clipboard. One might even venture so far as to guess she was planning nefarious things.

"Not bad for your first session!" she said to the puffing, sweaty heap on the floor. "Plenty more where that came from, of course, now that you're right down the causeway and you have no excuse to hide. I have to run and make my next appointment, though. Make sure you get in your cooldown stretches and hit the showers!"

Stepping over Francine, she headed out of the gym at a disgustingly energetic run.

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine just gave a half-hearted mewl, and slowly -- very slowly -- started crawling toward the showers.