Week 1 Part 2

Chris woke to his alarm at 6:30. He wanted to ensure he was up and Adam before Miss Valentine arrived. He jumped to his feet and immediately fell back onto the mattress. His head was spinning! He raised his shaky hands to his temples and tried to center himself. He figured he must have stood too quickly. When he’d collected himself, Chris slowly rose to his feet. He had a little residual dizziness, but it was manageable. His mouth was also very dry. Maybe he was just dehydrated? He snatched his nearby water bottle and took a hearty swig. He coughed when the sweetness of the pink water overwhelmed his senses. He had forgotten the powder was in there! He coughed again and took a smaller sip to wet his whistle.

Vowing that the worst the day had to offer was behind him, Chris shaved his stubble, brushed his teeth, and combed his short hair before putting on some general workout attire. He wanted to be functional but also fashionable because he was still dreaming about Miss Valentine’s body. He wasn’t sure what she would make him do, but he was prepared for anything with a gray shirt and black sweatpants. He smiled into the mirror and was satisfied with the result.

He finished the last of his water and descended the stairs. A dizzy feeling washed over Chris once again, and his stomach growled angrily. He checked the wall clock and saw it was 0651. There was still a little bit of time before Miss Valentine arrived. He approached the refrigerator with the intention to steal a bite of food. He just needed a little snack to power him through the workout. When he opened the refrigerator, however, his jaw dropped, and the reality of the situation really began to set in.

It was completely empty. His mind raced. There was definitely food in there yesterday! Had Miss Valentine somehow come in the middle of the night? With his thoughts still streaming, Chris slammed the refrigerator door and turned on his sink. His shaky hands began filling his empty water bottle, only stopping when he noticed something was wrong. There was a black filter attached to his faucet, and pink water was coming out! He attempted to fiddle with the filter only to find it was secured with some sort of locking mechanism. He turned the tap on three times in quick succession only to get pink, pink, pink.

He sighed and finished filling the bottle. He was going to have a conversation with this woman. As if on cue, a quick knocking sounded at his front door. Chris mentally prepared himself to confront Miss Valentine but felt uncharacteristically nervous about it. Reminding himself that she technically worked for him eased Chris’ nerves. At least, it eased his nerves until he opened the door and melted under her intense stare.

“Good morning, Mr. Evans.” She offered coldly, brushing him aside and whisking through the threshold.

A pleasant, feminine odor wafted to Chris’ nose, and his gaze fixated on her confident body. He cursed under his breath as a stirring began in his pants.

Chris slammed the door and tried raising his voice to be intimidating, only for it to come out sounding like a whiny complaint, “Hey, what happened to all my food? And the water in the kitchen?”

Miss Valentine turned and shot him a disdainful glare. Chris gulped. She may have been shorter than he was, but she still somehow managed to look down her nose at him with an air of superiority.

Her tone was sharp. “Yes, Mr. Evans. I removed the temptation that supplementary food provides. I also placed nutrient filters on every sink except the one in your personal bathroom. I suggest you consider thanking me for helping to ensure your success.”

Chris’ brow furrowed, and he felt anger welling inside him as he yelled, “’Every sink’? Are you serious? You come into my house and take away things I’ve earned!? It isn’t like I have no self-control over here!” He flexed his impressive upper body, “Look at what I’ve managed to build!”

Miss Valentine drew a slow breath and tilted her head to the side before speaking softly, “You have built, Mr. Evans, but you must remember we are no longer growing through excess; we are eroding through precise moderation.” Her tone changed until she was distinctly talking down to him like a child, “Tell me, how did you know your refrigerator was empty when I haven’t given you your meals for the day? What were you doing in there, exactly?”

Chris scoffed and tried to shake off her words, but his anger started to abate when he realized she was right. She had caught him red-handed! He claimed he had self-control, but they both knew it was a lie. He’d tried to break the rules on the first day!

He mumbled and stared at the floor, “Well, I mean—I was—I was just doing my morning routine.”

She shook her head in disappointment. “Sure you were, Mr. Evans. This is why I have to control these things, right?”

Chris drew a heavy breath and nodded, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry I yelled at you, Miss Valentine.”

Miss Valentine smiled warmly, “That’s alright, Mr. Evans. I know this is hard for you. But you need to trust me and know that I want what’s best for you.”

Chris perked up and felt elated from her smile of approval. He nodded his head, “Yes, Miss Valentine.”

She motioned for him to follow, and they made it to the kitchen, where she procured two plates covered in foil and a glass cup filled with brown liquid. One plate and the glass went into the empty fridge while the second plate was slid towards Chris. Alongside the meal was a paper cup filled with pills and a water bottle sloshing with pink liquid. Chris removed the foil.

At least the food looked decent enough! He dug in and found himself enjoying the taste, but it did little to fill his stomach, which continued to growl. He washed the pills down with pink water under the watchful eye of Miss Valentine. When he had finished the meal, Miss Valentine led Chris to the basement, and the first workout began.

To say the workout was difficult would be a complete understatement. Miss Valentine had Chris doing exercises he had never done before. He was holding yoga positions, doing crunches, lunges, squats, stretches, sprints, and everything in between. His lack of caloric intake started to affect him drastically near the end. He was struggling to stay on his feet, let alone perform the given exercise. He took heavy gulps of air, and sweat poured all over his body. He chugged bottle after bottle of sweet water like it was nothing.

For her part, Miss Valentine was very encouraging when Chris struggled with an exercise as long as he didn’t give up completely or disobey an instruction. When he did stop trying or do something wrong, her scolding was instant and harsh. She was up and down, but in a consistent manner. Before long, Chris was able to predict which reaction she would give based on his actions. He also learned that she would punish him in subtle ways when he did something she didn’t like. The reps were higher, or the exercise was held for longer when she was mad. Chris found himself following her directions to a ‘T’ to avoid punishment as the hours-long session trudged on.

When Miss Valentine finally called for a break, Chris collapsed onto the mat of his prized home gym. His legs, belly, and hips were absolutely shot. He focused on his breathing and tried to calm his head, which was light and spinning once again. Miss Valentine approached with a light glaze of sweat coating her skin. She was barely winded! 

She carefully lowered a chocolate shake to Chris on the floor. Her feet were planted proudly next to his heaving form, and he looked up at her. She looked like a domineering giant!

Chris was ravenous for anything and instantly started to gulp the shake after giving an exhausted, ‘thank you.’ The shake was thick like glue. It was more akin to warm ice cream and unlike any other shake he had consumed. It had an unpleasant, bitter, and salty aftertaste. Despite that, Chris swallowed it all down, feeling the substance sliding down his gullet like a tentacle. He tipped the glass and allowed the final drops of the shake to enter his mouth.

Miss Valentine took the glass and offered her hand to Chris, who accepted it. When he was on his feet, he took a few seconds to steady himself. He looked down at Miss Valentine, whose wild eyes were following him quizzically. He felt exhausted, truly, truly exhausted.

She patted his drenched nethers and smiled as she complimented, “Better than I expected. I’m impressed, Mr. Evans. Let’s head upstairs and relax.”

Chris’ eyes popped open, and blood rushed to his swampy cock. He followed her to the stairs like a puppy dog. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and craned his neck over his shoulder when he realized something:

They hadn’t done a single upper body exercise.

“Are you coming, Mr. Evans?” Miss Valentine called. 

Chris shrugged, then slogged up the staircase, figuring they would hit arms, chest, and shoulders tomorrow. He shakily crossed the foyer and found Miss Valentine by the main staircase. She produced three bottles from her bag and handed them to Chris. They appeared to be shampoo, soap, and conditioner, but there were no official labels. The words for each corresponding substance were written in neat black Sharpie.

“Go on and shower up. I’ll be waiting down here.” She ordered.

Chris lumbered up the stairs. His feet felt like cinder blocks! He stripped away his soggy clothing and stumbled into the shower. The shampoo, soap, and conditioner provided by Miss Valentine had the faintest odor of lavender and spoiled milk. As Chris expected, his own products were nowhere to be found. He angrily lathered up, relieved to see the liquid in Miss Valentine’s mystery bottles responded normally to water. Was using name-brand soap an ‘unacceptable temptation’ as well? He was far too fatigued to muster an argument and resigned himself to using her products.

When he was finished, Chris dressed himself and made his way downstairs. Miss Valentine was set up with a laptop near his one hundred-inch television. It was the middle of the day, and Chris was excited to sit down and relax on his couch. He saw a huge water bottle of pink liquid waiting for him on the coffee table.

As he sat, Miss Valentine addressed him, “The second part of our day is for recovery and research. You’ll start learning how to act like a natural woman by watching television created for women.” She procured a set of flowery headphones.

“Here, put these on. I have to write up a report on the start of your training and my initial observations. I can’t function with distracting noise.”

Chris received the headphones and scoffed, “I’m going to be watching TV all afternoon; are you serious? How is that going to teach me anything?”

Miss Valentine’s eyes narrowed, and Chris immediately felt uneasy. Her words were like icicles: “Are you seriously asking me how consuming media made for women might help you act more like a woman in media?

Chris complained, “Well, maybe...but why can’t you just go to another room? I don’t want to wear these headphones!”

Miss Valentine gave an annoying sigh. “My job is to supervise you, Mr. Evans. I am entrusted to do so. You may not take your obligations seriously, but I do. You’ll wear the damn headphones.”

Chris gulped and nodded while donning the girly headphones. He didn’t have the energy for an argument, and this subject wasn’t the hill to die on with Miss Valentine.

Miss Valentine clicked on the television, and sound blasted in the headphones alongside a show Chris had only ever heard of. 

He began watching the first episode but found his eyelids growing heavier and heavier as it wore on. It wasn’t long before fatigue from the first day of intense workouts overtook Chris, and his head tilted back onto the couch cushion. He fell into a deep sleep.

Chris had some crazy dreams. He had hazy memories of a woman’s voice talking in his head. She was whispering something about...being feminine...acting girly? Her voice droned on and on, repeating a set of instructions. He couldn’t quite make it out.

He awoke with a start. He was sprawled out on his couch with a ring of sweat surrounding him. Chris was confused as any sweating from his workout stopped during the shower. Strangely, the water bottle on the coffee table was bone dry, and his head was pounding. The sun had set, and darkness was filling the room. The sound in his headphones matched the Desperate Housewives episode that was still playing. Miss Valentine clicked the television off. 

Chris slipped off the headphones and sat up groggily while rubbing his head and asking in a weak croak, “How long was I out?”

Miss Valentine checked her watch and responded plainly, “A few hours. It’s understandable given the circumstances. Sleep will be pivotal to your body. Let’s get some dinner and supplements in you, and then you can head to bed.”

Despite having just napped, Chris had to admit he was still exhausted. He struggled to his feet and winced as his poor legs were shaking with strain. He desperately needed his bed! He limped to the kitchen, followed slowly by Miss Valentine. Chris collapsed on the kitchen stool as Miss Valentine retrieved a plate from the fridge. 

Chris dug into the food like a wolf. He barely tasted it and cleaned the plate in less than a minute. He stared down at the empty plate with frustration. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he sniffled. He needed more! He couldn’t do this! A tear trickled down his cheek, and his face felt hot.

Miss Valentine’s hand gently caressed Chris’ back while he wiped away his tears with embarrassment.

She whispered, “It’s okay, Chris. I’m here with you. You can do this. WE can do this.”

Chris nodded his head and threw back the paper cup of pills Miss Valentine had stealthily slipped in front of him. Chris felt like Miss Valentine wanted what was best for him. He was thankful for her because if she weren’t so strong, he would have probably given up already. He washed the pills down with a swig of sweet pink water.

His eyelids grew heavy again. Miss Valentine wished him goodnight and made her way to the door. Chris dragged himself up the stairs and collapsed on his bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.