My Personal Trainer Novels & Stories

I beamed “This birthday just keeps getting better.” He kept his word leaving the bathroom door open and climbing into the shower. I watched him through the glass screen as he turned on the water, the powerful jets bouncing against his hard body. I knew now, that on work days he would wake at 4am and start his day at the Gym, giving his body a full workout before he started his work day at 8am. I was very impressed with the results. He was muscular but not overly so, like a body builder. He was lean, not an ounce of fat on him and I knew he enjoyed his food but was conscious of not over indulging, another form of control. He had joked with me once that his personal trainer was the only pers

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to suggest that both of you train together. As a personal trainer, I will do my best to…” “Fuck off!” Annie and I said to him at once. My personal trainer was shocked and he ran out immediately, shutting the door after him. “Such a nosy fellow,” Annie muttered. “Don’t insult him,” I retorted. “You want to argue over that too, beast?” Annie asked. I decided to be a man and let it go. “I will be here every morning and that’s it. If you don’t want to see my face, that’s your own problem,” I picked up a bottle of water and headed out. I had done enough for today.

“Perfect timing. We have a trainer available. Marcus is one of our best. He’s great with beginners who want real results.” I followed her across the gym floor. My eyes kept drifting to the men working out. One guy with blond hair did pull-ups like it was nothing. Another with tattoos caught my eye as he bench-pressed heavy weights. They all looked so strong and sure of themselves. I felt soft and unsure by comparison. Then I saw him.

I hold one arm up and pretend to flex it playfully. “Having meat on your bones doesn’t mean you’re unhealthy, but if you want to build strength, I can help you with that.” He’s making the offer, but I’m already shaking my head. “Are you turning me down?” “I suppose,” I say and shrug. Personal trainers are crazy expensive. “That’s a first,” he says and grins at me. I glance away from him, not liking where his comment made my mind go. “Shit, that sounded bad. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that was the first time someone turned me down on training them.”

He led me into a modest office. It wasn't overly fancy, but everything was neat and professional. There were several framed photographs on the wall. Arthur in different events, receiving awards and posing with clients. Then I saw the inscription beneath one of the largest pictures. ARTHUR PETERSON — CEO, APEX HEALTH & FITNESS. I stared at it. So this man wasn't just another trainer, he owned the place. Arthur pulled out a flyer and placed it in front of me. “Let me explain our packages.”

“You don’t get legs like that just by dieting.” “I don’t do anything special. With all the moving and work, I can only work out on my own schedule. During free periods, I go to an aerobics class or the gym near school. There’s a really nice personal trainer there who helps me. The trainer calls me, and I go over when I have time.” “I see,” I said flatly. She had never mentioned this trainer before. “So that’s why you disappear from school sometimes, or when I’m at swim practice?” I asked, more sharply than I intended. Everyone turned to look at me.

She looks like she fights against fat cells for a living. Zayn’s jaw tightens. “Ava’s your personal trainer.” My jaw drops. My eyes nearly pop out of their socket. “My what?” “Personal trainer,” Zayn repeats, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips. I stare at him in disbelief. What is he talking about? He stares back, not blinking. I'm trying to communicate with my eyes, telling him I don't need a personal trainer, but he doesn't budge. He stares into my very soul, holding his ground about me having Ava as my trainer. Do I look that frail to him? I know I don't look big, but I don't look too small either. I'm alright.

I’d chosen black high-waisted leggings and a cropped black sports bra—simple, functional, but the way the fabric hugged my curves felt suddenly too revealing under the quiet fluorescent glow of the hallway. I’d signed up for personal training three weeks ago after a bad breakup left me feeling small and stuck. Ronan was the gym’s top trainer: late twenties, tall, carved from years of heavy lifts, dark hair cropped short, sleeves always rolled to show the black ink wrapping his forearms and curling up one shoulder. Reviews called him strict, effective, and “intimidating in the best way.” I’d picked the latest slot deliberately—private studio, no other clients around, no small talk with strang

I spent my day training in the gym, while the kids were in school. I had a trainer help with my reflexes and attacks. I didn’t ask the guys because they’d end up turning it sexual, and quite frankly so would I. “Nadia, keep your eyes open when someone swings at you.” He went for another swing that I dodged, but I blinked again. “Listen, in that blink of an eye you will be open to an attack.” I was so tired I fell to the ground and laid on it. “Are you okay?” He asks. “I am drained, and my nerves are on fire. I think I am going to call it quits for the evening and go get my kids.” He reached his arm to lift me up. “You know most people that have me as a private trainer, do it because they’ve

These people never let me be. " Yo! Abigail. If you don't open this damn door, I'm gonna break in." I rolled my eyes at the familiar voice. It was Drake, one of my personal trainers since I was 15, after I lost my arm. " I don't care if you are not decent. Nothing there that I haven't seen anyways." He continued, like an idiot that he is. Guess you can call him my fuck buddy too. What?! He's pretty good at it if you ask me...can't blame a girl for using the right tools.