Charlottes Day At The Gym Ch 02

*Beep! Beep! Beep!*

Charlotte clicked her phone to end the alarm, as she saw it was 4am in the morning. Unlike the previous morning when she was groggy and devoid of energy, today she was positively ready to leap out of bed. Her escapades in front of the unknowing Mr. Fletcher had given her a much-needed injection of vigor. It broke her out of her mundane routine and gave her something to look forward to. Never before had she possessed such excitement and anticipation for a singular activity. Just the contemplation of said activity was enough to elicit a lustful thrill. In fact, before she fell asleep last night, she thought of a dozen different ways she could maximize the exhilaration of her experience. From what she would wear to when and how she'd lose her clothes, to what she do if she were caught. Truly, the multitude of possibilities had her head spinning with euphoria.

She then hopped out of bed to get dressed. For the bottom, she put on a pair of black underwear with dark grey jogger shorts on top. The shorts left much of her legs exposed, but were tight enough to highlight the shapely nature of her butt. On top, she wore a simple white crop-top with a baggy hoodie over that. She wasn't wearing a bra today, so if the hoodie just happened to come off at any point, her boobs would be bouncing around quite noticeably. She then slipped on her shoes, grabbed her keys, and was off for the day. While driving in the car she drove by a McDonalds and said,

"No way Mr. Fletcher will tolerate another tardy absence...then again..."

While she didn't have a taste for her favorite beverage today, there was a part of her that wanted to test her limits. Mr. Fletcher would certainly be aggravated if she made the same 'mistake' two days in a row. Given his old-fashion nature, he might think of some punishment that she could use to heighten her experience. So with that, she turned into the next McDonalds and ordered herself a large French vanilla latte. After the brief pit stop, it didn't take long before she reached the parking lot for the Ridgeview forest. Given that it was 2:56am, the parking lot was completely empty except for one single truck.

"Jeez! Mr. Fletcher's truck looks like it's at least 40 years-old."

Charlotte didn't know much about cars, but the old-man's truck looked like something out of the 80's. She decided to park away from the truck as far as possible, given that she might have to make a quick escape by the end of her workout. Upon exiting the car, with coffee in hand, she heard the melodies of birds chirping from the treetops. The brisk, cool air wrapped around her legs, a sensation that roused her senses and energized every fiber of her being. The air had an earthy smell with some floral notes from the nearby flowerbeds. Being a homebody, this whole experience was quite foreign to her, but at the same time, it felt authentic. Like this was the manner in which humans were supposed to live.

"Morning, youngin!" Shouted Mr. Fletcher as his nostrils flared. "Is that coffee I smell?"

"Uh...yes, sir."

The old-man scowled, disappointed that she now broke his rules twice.

"Youngin! True weight loss doesn't happen in the gym, it happens with your fork and knife. If you're gonna put crap into your body, you'll never reach your goals."

Mr. Fletcher's wobbly hands then snatched the coffee cup from her grasp. He proceeded to pop the lid and take a giant swig. He swished the liquid around in his mouth for a bit before spitting it out on the nearby grass.

"Blegh! Absolute filth."

He poured the remaining contents into the grass as he handed the cup back to Charlotte.

"Your entire workout would've gone to waste if you drank that sugary crap. Now throw it in the trash and return back to me at once."

"Yes, sir"

Charlotte hastily jogged over to the trash, tossed the cup in, and made her way back to Mr. Fletcher.

"All done, Mr. Fletcher. So what's first on the agenda?"

"First is a run through the forest. The hilly terrain will get your legs burnin' real good. Afterwards, I'll have you do some tree climbin'."

"Tree climbing? Like a kid?"

"Pfttt! There's no better exercise out there than climbin' trees, youngin. Every muscle in your body will be screaming after you've completed my regimen."

"But, won't my hands get all cut up from the rough bark?"

Mr. Fletcher gave her a disapproving stare as if she just swore in front of him.

"If you were a man I'd tell ya to toughn' up, but given that your a girl, ya can borrow a pair of my climbin' gloves."

"Thank you, Mr. Fletcher."

"We'll go over the remainder of the regimen later on. Now give me five laps around the forested path. Once you're done, meet me by the large oak with the chopped down tree beside it."

As Mr. Fletcher shuffled his way to his truck to retrieve the gloves, Charlotte started running through the forest. Though there was enough light for her to see where she was going, it was still quite dark. She would need to focus intently on her surroundings so that she didn't trip on any misplaced sticks or rocks.

After four laps, Charlotte was already hitting a bit of a wall. Beads of sweat poured down her forehead as her calfs and quads began to burn.

"T-these hills don't look big, but they're no joke." She said to herself.

As she made a left-hand turn, she inadvertently stepped onto a pile of slippery leaves, causing her to fall to the ground. The ground was soft and the leaves cushioned her fall, so she was completely unharmed by the incident. As the leaves crinkled under her body, she peered around to see if Mr. Fletcher had seen her spill. Luckily for her, he was nowhere in sight. She then took a brief moment to fix her hair while she caught her breath. In addition to the brief respite, Charlotte enjoyed the sensation of the cool leaves on her body. It cooled down her legs quite nicely -- exactly what the doctor ordered.

"Alright." Said Charlotte as she stood up. "If I waste any more time, Mr. Fletcher will have my head."

She resumed her jogging as it was now time for the final lap. The breather she took made all the difference in the world, as she was now finding her second wind. That being said, she experienced a prominent scratchy sensation around her legs. If it had been her arms, she could relieve said scratch without breaking her run; however, an itch around the legs was problematic. She now had a choice: 1) Stop for a moment to furiously scratch her legs (losing even more time), or 2) Ignore the scratch until she reached the oak tree where Mr. Fletcher was. Considering she lost considerable time in the leaf pile, she decided to push on while attempting to ignore the irritation. The tender itchiness became more and more conspicuous, but she managed to keep her composure just long enough to reach the large oak tree.

"14 minutes and 25 seconds." Said Mr. Flectcher as he stopped his stopwatch. "That route is about two miles in length. I expect you to run under 12 minutes in a month's time."

"12 minutes?!" Said Charlotte as she clawed at her legs. "Averaging a mile every 6 minutes is hard enough -- but doing so on a hilly terrain is absurd."

"You know, if you're not really serious about this, we can just call it quits right now. I've got no time for slackers."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fletcher. I just a little aggravated since my legs are so itchy."

"Did you fall into a pile of leaves, youngin!?"

"Uh--yea, but I don't see--"

Without uttering another word, Charlotte felt the old man clutch onto her leg. Mr. Fletcher's hand was freezing cold, sending a painful chill up her spine. As she looked down, she saw Mr. Fletchers face mere centimeters away from her leg. He inspected it as if it her leg was a piece of bacteria under a microscope. With his eyesight being so poor, she figured this was the only distance in which he could discern any detail.

"There's nothing on them now, but I'd venture to guess it was Oak Leaf Mites."

"Oh...a-ah, is that dangerous."

"Nah!" Said Mr. Fletcher dismissively. "I've got some ointment that'll take away that itch lickety-split."

The old-man opened up his fanny pack to grab a small tube of anti-itch ointment. Charlotte reached her hand out, expecting the old man to hand it to her; however, the old-man wasn't going to yield his precious ointment so easily.

"This stuff ain't cheap, youngin. I'll be applying it to your legs so don't go wasting all of it."

"Uh--okay. Yea, that's fine."

"The itching will spread if we don't contain it now, so you need to take off your breeches."

"M-my what now?"

"Your breeches. Trousers. Pantaloons. Pants."

"Oh, but then my underwear will be showing."

"Ack!" Growled the old-man. "We're just applying medicine, not performing a peep-show. Besides, I can't see for shit, so your modesty will be preserved."

Charlotte had just paraded around Mr. Fletcher the day before without a single stitch of clothing on her body, but somehow, that seemed less risky since he was unaware of her disposition. With him knowing that she was in her underwear, it made the situation all the more real. Nevertheless, she heeded his advice and slipped off the jogger shorts without protest. The old-man then squeezed the ointment onto his hand as he recklessly applied it to her legs.

"That's a bit rough."

"Pipe down. I don't like this anymore than you do."

His hands touched literally every inch of her legs. There were even moments when his fingers were in-between her thighs, mere inches away from her cooch. As difficult as it was to admit to herself, she was starting to feel a warm, tingly sensation in her nether regions. Of course, it had nothing to do with the old-man, it was solely propagated by the physical stimulation on her body.

"That ought to do for now. I'd avoid wearing the breeches for now, the little buggers are probably hiding in the material."

"B-but...Mr. Fletcher. Working out in my underwear is a bit scandalous, don't you think?"

"Stop your belly aching! There's no one out here to see you -- you're fine!"

"I-I suppose you're right."

"Course I am!" Said Mr. Fletcher as he tossed a pair of gloves at her. "Put on them gloves and get ready for some climbing."

Charlotte promptly put on the tattered climbing gloves. They cushioned her wrists and palms quite well, leaving the fingertips exposed so they could grip onto the bark.

"Alright, yougin. On my mark, I want you to climb up to the third branch from the top."

"How high is that?"

"Oh, I'd say about 25-30 feet. Mind yourself on the descent, the branches can be slippery at this hour."

Chalotte was still fatigued from the run she just completed, so a precarious climb wasn't the best idea in the world. Nevertheless, Mr. Fletcher wasn't someone who could be swayed in matters such as this, so she mentally prepared herself and hoped for the best.

"On your mark, get set, go!"

And with that, Charlotte grabbed onto the first branch, hoisted herself upward and began the climb. She carefully maneuvered herself between and around branches, being mindful of her feet and body position at all times. Part of her embraced the pureness of what she was doing, it brought her back to carefree days in the summertime. The morning air combined with the smell of the oak freshened her mind. She felt like she was entering the zone, flowing freely from branch to branch with no interruption from her cognitive faculties.

"WHOA! Hold on, youngin! You've gone too far."

Charlotte was snapped out of her trance as she immediately looked down toward the ground. Sure enough, she was on the second branch from the top, not the third. She wagered she was probably 35 feet in the air at this point, which didn't sound like a lot -- but rest assured, it was quite alarming. She clutched onto the trunk of the tree as she yelled out,

"Do you have a ladder?! I don't think I can get down."

"Don't panic, youngin. You made it up, and you can make it down. Just take your time."

Easy for him to say. His feet were placed firmly on the ground, while her feet were dangling in the air. She knew at some point she'd need to let go of the trunk and slowly lower herself down to the next branch, but the mere thought made her hands sweaty. "Thank God for the gloves." Thought Charlotte. "If it wasn't for them, my hands wouldn't be able to grip shit."

"Come on, youngin! The more you think about it, the worse it gets."

She knew he was right, but it still didn't mitigate her fear. She would have to concoct some sort of a distraction to divert her attention. Something that would minimize her inner tumult. Charlotte then looked over at her shaky legs, noticing the black underwear covering her most private regions. "Perhaps if I take off my underwear, I'll be more concerned about my nakedness than the height...". Thought Charlotte.

"I don't want to call the fire department, so let's get a move on!"

"Okay, okay! I just had to get in the right mindset."

With no time to waste, Charlotte took her left arm off the trunk and slipped it under the elastic waistband of her underwear. She then had to lean her butt up so she could finagle the under garment off. Soon enough, the underwear pooled around her feet. She then slipped one foot out as the underwear was now draped on her right instep. She twirled it around on her foot, realizing this was the last protection she had for her butt and cooch. Well, to be fair, her sweatshirt was long enough to cover her modesty -- it was like a proxy dress in a sense. That being said, once this thin piece of cloth was gone, the danger increased exponentially. Realizing Mr. Fletcher was growing impatient, she kicked the underwear away as it landed on the branch just below her (the branch she was suppose to stop at).

Serendipity struck in a most unusual way, Charlotte's nerves had completely gone still. The shakiness in her arms and legs had evaporated into thin air. She felt a calm sensation wash over her entire body, allowing her to clear her mind and focus on the task at hand. With this, she let go of the trunk with her other hand and safely maneuvered herself to the third branch from the top. Now this branch was thick enough for her to stand on without any fear of falling down. It was here that she decided to lift up the front of her sweatshirt to gaze at her succulent, shaven pussy. She badly wanted to indulge herself but for a moment. Two minutes is all it would take to relieve her pent up sexual arousal; however, she knew Mr. Fletcher wouldn't tolerate any more delays. She thusly continued her descent, carefully angling her body so as to get down as a safely as possible.

Upon reaching the final branch, she got a bit lackadaisical, causing her to lose her footing and fall into yet another pile of leaves. She expelled a few leaves from her mouth in a pseudo-coughing gesture. Her fingers brushed away the debris in her hair, while straightening out the structure so it didn't look weird.

"Why'd you fall?! I told you those branches were slippery!"

It was nice to know he had no remorse for the tumble she just experienced. She quickly disregarded this as she felt a rustling inside of her sweatshirt. Turns out some of the leaves had gotten inside, so she used her hand to fish them out. Going through the top of the sweatshirt was difficult, so she instead went from the bottom. This motion raised up the sweatshirt itself, exposing her unconcealed cooch. Luckily for her, the leaves did an excellent job of covering her up. So if anyone just happened to walk by, they would be none the wiser.

"Are you ready for the next exercise? What's the hold up!?"

"Nothing, sir. I'm just fixing my hair and removing some leaves from my sweatshirt."

"Oh! For crying out loud! We'll need to nip this in the bud. Quick, take off your sweatshirt so I can rub some ointment on."

Charlotte was flabbergasted by what she just heard. If she were to remove her sweatshirt right now, nothing would be protecting her bottom half. She would be standing in the middle of the woods with only her crop top on. Not only that, Mr. Fletcher would be rubbing her down with ointment. Any passerby would totally interpret this the wrong way, giving off the impression that she was a paid slut. In addition, if Mr. Fletcher got a little careless with his hands, he might accidentally touch her bare nether regions. How could she possibly talk her way out of that?!

"You worry too much, Mr. Fletcher. I'll be fi--"

"Not another word, youngin'. We've got no time to waste, so let's get this done and over with."

And just like that, Charlotte's "defiance" was rebuked. She now would have to face the music by removing her second to last article of clothing. Mr. Fletcher pulled out the tube from his pocket as Charlotte nervously stood up and clutched onto the bottom of her sweatshirt. Her breath became shallow and rapid, fully realizing this completely different from the day before. Yesterday was a controlled environment with no observers, but in the great outdoors, there could be any number of people spying on her. She figured, though, that the faster she got this over with, the faster she could put her sweatshirt back on. She thusly yanked the sweatshirt over her head and tossed it off to the side. Mr. Fletcher squirted some ointment onto his hands as he vigorously lathered up.

"You should stick your arms out to the side, we don't want to miss any spots."

"Yes, Mr. Fletcher."

Charlotte raised her arms upwards and outwards. She was now standing in a "T" pose with her cooch and butt on full display. And given she was wearing a crop top, roughly 75% of her body was completely exposed to the world. With no hint of acknowledgment (given his poor eyesight), Mr. Fletcher proceeded to spread the ointment onto her left arm. His dynamic rubbing caused her body to shake back and forth, causing her breasts to bounce from side to side. Without a bra on, the delightful pair were bouncing to and fro underneath her crop top. Mr. Fletcher finished the left arm as he moved his way towards her back. He started with the sacrum -- about as close to touching her butt without actually touching it. If he went even a half-inch lower, she would have a lot of explaining to do. Luckily, his hands moved north to the middle regions, but that's when she felt some peculiar.

"Wait?! Why are you lifting my shirt up?"

"I've gotta cover your whole back, otherwise you'll be scratching yourself on a tree trunk."

Charlotte relented, knowing full well to argue against Mr. Fletcher. The crop top continued inching higher and higher on her back with each passing second, until it was up to her shoulder blades.

"Alright. Pull the shirt over your head."

Charlotte audibly gasped, flabbergasted by what she just heard. Mr. Fletcher was not oblivious to her distress, so he decided to clarify himself.

"Pull it over your head from the back while still using the front to cover yourself. Similar to how youngins' tan at the beach."

She followed his instructions, slowly clasping the bottom of her crop top and moving it upward. Her pace, as one would expect, was excruciatingly slow. She was about to expose the entire back half of her body, and would be one slip up away from being completely naked in public. I mean, she was technically naked in public yesterday at the gym, but that was a confined environment with no observers. This -- this was pushing her boundaries in ways she couldn't imagine. As she stalled with the shirt, she thought about how she began the day with an eager mindset. She was looking forward to losing her clothes whilst running around in this wooded area. Heck! She even fancied the idea of someone possibly catching of glimpse of her. Analyzing every last inch of her creamy white skin. But now that the moment was here, her eagerness was at its nadir. Her nerves had completely overtaken her, leaving her stupefied.