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LEG DAY

@CoryOtter

He hated the way everything jiggled now. He could never get used to it. From the shifting weights on his chest to his now-plump rear, his whole body was almost constantly in motion whenever he moved. He hated it. And he hated how much his new body turned him on.

It had become routine. The leers, the stares of jealousy. Even though he chose baggy, plain clothes to cover his new bombshell body, he couldn't help but feel like he constantly had a spotlight on him wherever he went. And today happened to be leg day. He hated leg day especially, now. The grouchy former-human man walked straight past the gym's front desk. There had been too many incidents with the front desk staff over the discrepancies between his appearance and what was on his membership identification card. They all knew who he was by now.

He went into the men's locker room. The regulars had learned not to question it by now. A few of the new members could only stop and stare as what they saw to be a tall, muscular, busty kangaroo girl walk into the men's locker room like a scene in some ridiculous porno. He shot them a hard glance. A twitch of his bicep was enough to get them to turn their heads away as he walked past--but the threat didn't deter one or two boys from sneaking a look at the shapely bum topped with a thick roo tail while he walked away. Even through the baggy sweats, his figure was undeniable.

He went to a secluded corner of the locker room and pulled out the workout clothes from his bag. He took off his top, letting his unbound breasts flop free of the hot garment. Quickly--to avoid the inevitable gawks of his fellow men--he pulled a sports bra over the large mammaries. He had broken down about a week after the change and bought it. It was so humiliating, having to wear a bra. It was even more humiliating having to admit to the girl working at the shop that he had never been measured before. Nor had he previous need of such support. Looking down, he could see the tops of his breasts pushing out of the bra like dough spilling out of a muffin tin and grimaced as he felt a pang of arousal through his changed anatomy.

Moving on, he pulled down his sweatpants, this time revealing the plainest and least-revealing pair of panties the former male could find. He had attempted to continue wearing his boxers, but they clumped awkwardly and were uncomfortable to wear. He eventually gave in and bought his first pair a week and a half after the change. He turned to face the corner to make sure people couldn't see his lack of 'manhood,' nor the massive cameltoe he was sporting. The thick cleft was accentuated with a slight, damp line down the middle. He swore under his breath and pulled the panties out from between his lips. The offhand touch was enough to send another pang of arousal through his loins.

"Stupid body," he thought to himself.

The weeks since his unwanted change had not been kind. Just looking at himself was enough to arouse him. He looked a lot like some of the models he would get off to when he still had his tackle, and his prodigious libido had not diminished in his new form. If anything, it was exaggerated. He was constantly being teased by his own body. Seeing a woman aroused was enough to get him aroused before the change. And now that he had the body of a woman, seeing himself was enough to get him aroused. And seeing himself aroused only made him more aroused! The vicious cycle usually concluded with unconsciousness after several hours of masturbating in front of a mirror.

He pulled up a saggy pair of running shorts to cover his embarrassing underwear. The shorts were from before the change, but they had a string and they still fit okay enough. The only problem was that it lacked the loop to go above his tail to keep them in place, as well as the cutout that would let his tail rest on his glutes rather than the cloth. But he liked the shorts too much to get rid of them and having something pressed up against the base of his new tail felt disconcertingly pleasant. A makeshift strap made with safety pins and a piece of torn rag was enough to solve any issues. He put a plain unisex tee over his still-exposed upper body to cover up. The sports bra was definitely too skimpy for him to avoid the stares he hated receiving. He hoped the tee would help, and it usually did, even if it did look a bit ridiculous. Without a women's cut, the bottom of the tee just hung from his chest. After a few days, he had begrudgingly knotted the bottom to be snug to his waist to prevent the drafts and awkward flapping.

He left the locker room, a towel over his shoulder, and headed up to the suspended track to warm up. After a few laps of walking, he started jogging. The new roo had no need for shoes and his nails clacked dully on the ground, capped with a hardened gel that was designed to prevent scratches on finished surfaces. It was annoying to have to apply it daily, but it was at least cheap. Like everything else, he couldn't get used to the jogging. It was a weird hop combined with a run that other anthros didn't really have. And it made his large bosom flop and shake like mad, even with the constricting sports bra. Another reason he wore the ill-fitting tee.

After a few minutes of running, his body had warmed up. His jaw ached to open and pant, but he refused to do so. He wouldn't give in to that animal instinct and let himself be further embarrassed. He already had his tits and ass jiggling as he ran, he didn't need his tongue flopping about, too! At the same time, he started sweating. Fine fur matted as the drops rolled down his body and soaked into his clothes. How long had he been running for? He couldn't tell. He had lost himself in the run; it felt so natural and freeing. How long had he had his mouth open? He quickly closed it and slowed down to a walk. He looked at the clock. There was no way he'd already gone half an hour--though as he slowed, the ache in his chest told him otherwise.

It was past time to move on to weights. He stretched off the track first. Luckily, roos were a plantigrade species. He didn't need to modify much of that stretching routine to fit his new anatomy. Moving on to weights, he decided to start with his most hated exercise, the one that really made him hate leg day: the barbell squat. Situated in a line of machines, the free-standing barbell rack was centrally-placed. The room's lines and layout naturally drew the eye to that area, and the air from the ceiling fans never adequately reached there. As a human, he had disliked it. As a shapely roo, he had grown to despise it. He placed 70 kilos on the barbell and looked around to make sure the room was mostly empty. He had changed his schedule to avoid high-traffic times in the gym now. Too many stares from other men, and with how he looked, he could hardly blame them.

Barbell against his back, he lifted the weight with his shoulders and went into a squat; his long, thick tail dragging against the floor. His round, huge ass pressed out as he went deeper, the inseam of his jogging shorts digging into his changed anatomy. He winced at that and went back up, then back down. He caught a glimpse of himself squatting in a mirror off to the side and nearly rolled backwards right there, had his muscular tail not caught him. Breasts and ass pushed out; thick, muscular thighs below an almost-as-thick tail...he couldn't take his eyes off of his reflection as he completed more reps, not even noticing how aroused he was getting.

He started panting, watching his ass flex in the mirror with every squat. It wasn't until he stopped for a break that he noticed the repeated pressing of those shorts against his new cunt had soaked a small patch in the front. He blushed at the realization, feeling the coolness of air against wet fabric between his legs. Luckily, the shorts were already black and he didn't think anyone would notice the shiny patch of feminine juices. Panting to himself, he thought he may have to finally give in and buy a better-fitting pair of shorts after today.

Next were the dumbbell lunges, which were easy enough after getting the hang of maneuvering his new, elongated feet so he could kneel properly. Some lying curls--they made his breasts hang pendulously below him, but he was able to make it through without staring down his shirt TOO much. The leg extensions went by easily, and the standing calf raises were as difficult as ever. He was too tempted to bounce on them.

Then came the final exercise, the leg press. He sat and pushed, his muscular thighs easily working the weight up and down. He really got into it, just feeling the burn and forgetting to count the reps or take breaks. Eventually, those shorts worked themselves up and the inseam pulled tight against his crotch again. Heat flushed through him again as he felt his sensitive folds being touched...then he noticed the massive cameltoe the exercise had left him with. He reached over to adjust the garment, but couldn't help placing his hand over his mound and gasping at how hot it felt. He locked the weight in place and looked around. Seeing nobody in the room, he squeezed that blazing mound with a muted moan. Even if he hated being a roo girl, he loved how it felt when he had a hand between his legs. He squeezed some more and arched his back as he rubbed his pussy through his damp shorts. He had almost started panting before he heard footsteps and quickly swung himself upright, hands at his sides. He panted for a few moments and frowned at his loss of control. He made sure to wipe down that seat extra well. Luckily, nobody had been able to tell what he had done, or even looked at him suspiciously. No, he received the regular stares of lust and envy as he walked back to the men's locker room.

He returned to his locker and retrieved his belongings. He had initially planned on showering here for the first time since the change, but after his behavior on the leg press, he decided against it. Not even bothering to change, he toweled off and packed everything into his gym bag before leaving the locker room and heading straight for the door to the parking lot. He winced with every step, his soaked panties chafing his swollen, aroused lips.

As he passed the front desk, he saw an old friend from his college days through the glass door of the entrance. They were good friends back then, but they hadn't managed to keep in touch. The roo stopped momentarily, thinking to himself about how to approach his friend--if he even should. A female roo wearing men's clothes was odd enough, but said female roo also claiming to be your old human male college roommate? It was a ridiculous situation. It would only serve to further embarrass him. He was doing so well mentally compared to the first few weeks following the change--such a situation would only throw him out of his newfound groove, as fragile as it was. So he continued through the door and passed his old friend, not making eye contact with the latter, even as he stared lustfully at the blushing, sweaty roo girl.

As he neared his car, he pulled out his damp gym towel and put it on the driver's seat before sitting down on them. There was no way the mess between his legs was dry and there was no way he was going to let this change mess up his new(ish) car, too! If he had only knew then, before the change, that he should have sprung for the vinyl rather than the upholstered seats!

"Maybe I should get some plastic seat covers," he thought, "and I won't have to worry about making a mess. I could even wear a vibrator all the time in here and nobody would even know."

Another pang of arousal shot through him. What kind of thought was that? He's not one of those exhibitionist sluts in the videos he enjoyed--and still enjoys. But he was one of those hot girls, now. He fapped in a mirror almost every night. Was fapping even the right word any more? Just the thought of going out in public with a bullet vibe in him, or maybe even a dildo...it was such an arousing thought that he could feel a growing patch of warmth in his panties. He was as hot as those girls in the videos were. Why not? If he did it right, nobody would catch him and even if they did, could they blame him? He was built like a porn star!

His mouth opened and he began to pant. He didn't really notice. His hand traced down his toned abs and in between his thick, muscular thighs to rub himself through his damp shorts. He knew what he was doing--it was wrong. If anyone caught him, he could get arrested. He'd be on lists for the rest of his life. But those fingers stroking his lips felt too good. Just thinking about his situation felt too good--a hot girl, in his car, masturbating? Who cares if he was the hot girl? He could feel his nipples erecting, rubbing against the tight fabric of his sports bra. Letting out a moan, he squeezed his sopping cunt and ground into his hand, soaking it with viscous juices. A free hand went up to the sun shade and flipped it down, revealing a panting, horny roo girl with huge, heaving breasts in the mirror. He couldn't help it any more. The hand on his cunt left for one brief, painful moment and slid under the elastic waistband. He moaned again, feeling those fingers against the fine fur of his labia for the first time since he masturbated that morning.

A car horn blared nearby. He jumped in his seat and looked around, guiltily wiping his wet hand off on the towel under him. Someone hadn't seen the light on the nearby road turn green. He sighed in frustration, wiped off his hand some more, and turned on the car to go home. The drive was short and uneventful, even if he did have trouble keeping his hands away from his new parts a few times. And ran a few red lights, or stopped at a few greens. But finally--and with screeching tires--he pulled into his driveway.

He didn't even grab his bag, opting instead to rush right inside of his house. A large damp spot was left behind on the towel he was sitting on. A bit of his juices ran down his thighs as he practically sprinted inside. His soaked running shorts squished with every step, the sound making his heart flutter with arousal. Even though he was musky and salty with sweat, he walked straight past the shower. He needed more than a shower for this. His bedroom door swung open, and his sweat-soaked tee hit the ground. His breasts bulged in that stretched sports bra, matted from the sweat. He pulled his shorts down so quickly that the clasp of the safety pin holding his tail-strap broke. He stood in front of the full-length mirror that was opposite his bed and gaped at the scantily-clad roo girl before him. His panties were soaked through. The fur on the inside of his legs was clearly wet and getting wetter. Between his thighs sat the fattest cameltoe he'd ever seen.

A hand quickly went to that crotch, forcing a loud moan out of him as it squeezed and slid against those red-hot lips. More juices soaked into the ruined panties and down his thighs as he heard himself moan. His stroking became more urgent as he heard the quiet, wet noise of his nether-lips parting and pressing together through the cloth. Another hand came up to that sports bra, slowly lifting up until his large breasts bounced free, one by one. At the sight, his mouth gaped and a bit of drool left the corner of his mouth. A hand was instantly there to pinch one of those turgid, erect nipples; the roo they were attached to moaning and shifting on his feet, eyes fixed on the reflection in the mirror.

He sat on the end of the bed and worked those soaked panties off, thick strings of femme-fluids connecting his dripping cunt to them. He let them drop to the floor, into a growing puddle. He leaned back and spread his legs, giving him a good view of his new pussy as he rubbed up and down his labia with two fingers. His tail lifted as he leaned, letting the corner of the mattress press up and under that thick muscle and eliciting another shudder of ecstasy out of him.

"Why am I so sexy? G-god...ahh...damn it." he said, as those fingers slid into that tight, wet passage. Those walls gripped his fingers tightly, squeezing and milking them as he stared at his reflection. He squeezed and kneaded those large breasts, tugging and pinching the nipple. His palm rubbed along his clitoral hood as those fingers plunged into his pussy, making lewd, wet, squelching noises that made him even hotter. Out of the blue, a thought struck him.

"Maybe I should get a dildo."

It was a ridiculous thought. He was straight. He didn't need or want a dildo. But, feeling just how little flesh those fingers reached, he could only imagine how much satisfaction he could get from such a toy. The thought was enough to send him into an orgasm. He fell backwards and rolled onto his side to free his pinched tail, letting his mammaries slide against each other and onto the bed. He curled his fingers inside of his spasming cunt as his oversized roo toes curled above the wet floor.

He lay there, panting, hugging his breasts and slowly fingering his slit. His mind had gone blank for a bit from the sheer pleasure of it all, but the thoughts soon came back to him. How could he continue to live like this? Would this damn lust ever be controllable? Why was the female orgasm so addicting? He hated having this new body, but he loved seeing it in action. In fact, just seeing his own cleavage below his muzzle was enough to get him going again. The gentle pace of his fingers quickened, drawing deeper and deeper breaths from the former male as he watched his ass sway in the mirror. As he came to another mind-blowing orgasm, he thought that maybe it wouldn't be TOO bad to be stuck in this body.