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I opened the closet and pulled out the pants. I had not worn them in years, perhaps as long as a decade. So why bother? a little voice demanded.

Because maybe it's time, I snapped mentally.

I looked at the pants for a moment longer, and then said aloud, "Let's do it." I slipped the burnished brass button through the buttonhole, and slowly unzipped the fly. I stepped into the legs, and tentatively pulled them up, pulling the ends of the waistband together.

The fit was not right.

My heart soared.

The pants were at least six inches too big in the waist. My hard work and perseverance had paid off. For the first time in my life, I had seen a project through to completion.

Eighteen months ago I had promised myself I would lose at least one hundred fifty lbs. From the fit of the pants, I knew I had lost at least that much. Perhaps more, and maybe even a lot more.

If I had been dedicated to my plan before, I knew I'd be obsessed from then on.

(Eighteen months earlier... )

The snap on my pants was the last straw.

I was huffing, puffing, wheezing from the exertion of bringing six bags of groceries from the trunk of the car into the house. Shit, from the garage into the house. Walking the length of the grocery store, even leaning on a cart, had wasted me. I sat in my leather easy chair to catch my breath.

No one wakes up one morning, looks down at a huge belly, and thinks, "Oh, no." I knew I was a fat slob. I had felt myself deteriorating for years. I was accustomed to the level of exhaustion from such simple tasks; but I was certainly not ready to feel a sudden release from the confines of my straining pants, followed a split-second later by the sound of the metal snap striking the wall.

I sat there, pants open at the top, loose tufts of polyester showing where the snap had once been sewn securely in place, and I wept. I was overcome by sorrow (not to say self-pity) at my plight.

It wasn't bad enough I was unemployed, or that my wife was also a fat slob too, or that her weight-related problems had led to a cessation of all sexual activity five years earlier. It wasn't even enough that the medications her doctor had her on had killed even the spark of libido.

What hurt the worst was that I had done it all to myself. I had squandered my talent, my potential and my body in the pursuit of instant gratification. I had always settled for less than I should, taken the easy way out of every situation.

And there I sat, mid-thirties, with not the duke of an idea what to do next.

That's when I realized I did know what to do next, what I should have done years earlier. I got the phone book and located the nearest health club.

My first day at the gym was a fiasco. The trainer assigned to work with me, a young fellow who had clearly never done much besides exercise, was a tad smug, at least to my way of thinking, as he tried to do a body-mass index on me, and failed. I was just too big for accurate readings.

The weight stations were difficult, too, because I wasn't flexible enough to do much.

In the end, he stressed the values of the treadmill, as it was about all I was going to be able to do. It took everything I had to crank out three minutes without collapsing.

But something in the way I felt afterward ... I knew the treadmill was my silver bullet.

So, did I call that first day a fiasco? Maybe not.

I began going every day. I'd stay for three hours at a time, trudging out three and five and seven minute increments at increasingly higher speeds, drowning my sorrows in the sweet nectar of water, sweating it out, allowing it to rid my body of the crap I'd allowed to be deposited there.

Before three months had passed, I was walking for thirty minutes at a time at around two and a half miles per hour, and after a respite doing it again, sometimes four times in a single morning.

I had sprung for an iPod; I loaded it with the music of my youth, arranged it all into fifteen and twenty and thirty minute increments, enough to keep me boppin' to the beat. I was feeling great, and the best part is that people in the gym started to notice me, talk to me, compare notes on progress. I was developing a social circle, something I'd not had in years.

Eventually even my wife, who was pretty much oblivious to everything except work, food and Trading Spaces, began to notice. She wasn't turned on or anything, but she saw my efforts.

A couple of months turned into six, and six months into a year, and a year into eighteen months. I was smaller, no question, but I was wearing nothing but sweats and loose shirts, even around the house. I was scared to get on the scales, afraid to find out I had lost only a paltry amount; but no, the difference in my body was far too pronounced. I had to have lost at least close to my target figure.

Then I realized there were some old clothes, stuck back in the closet, unworn for many years. I knew about what I weighed when I was in them...

And so I approached the closet. There was a pair of pants I had last worn eight years earlier. They were fourteen inches in the waist smaller than the pants I had sundered the day I decided to do something positive.

And how sweet it was.

I hopped on the scales, unafraid. I waited for the digital numbers to stop their flickering, deciding what to say to this burden. ("One at a time, please!")

I looked at the final number; it was one hundred sixty-eight pounds below my high-water mark. I'd beaten my goal. I'd sealed the deal, and I'd earned a celebration.

I turned into a workout machine after that. For a celebration, I got deeply into weight training, not with the intent of looking like Ah-nult (as if), but to shape up a little better, sculpt and mold and transform loose skin into something a little tighter, better defined.

Truth to tell, I didn't really like most of the weight-training crowd. To make a pop-culture reference: if you've seen Steve Martin's 'Roxanne', you will remember Rick Rossovich as Chris, the pretty face without intellect who won Roxanne's affection. That's how most of them struck me.

So I steered clear. I spent time assisting, informally, other folks who were in my previous condition, to varying degrees. (I noted, with some shame, I never really met anyone who was as far gone as I had been.)

In any event, the gym management noted my progress, and my work helping others. One afternoon, as I was headed out the door, freshly showered, smelling not the least like a man who had just dropped five lbs of water weight, Mike, the floor boss, approached me.

"Yo, Jeff, gotta minute?" he asked.

I looked around. "Me? Sure," I replied.

He indicated the way back to his office; he ushered me in, motioned for me to sit, and he sat behind his desk.

He got right to the point. "Need a job?"

I did a double take. "Well, yeah, I guess," was all I could muster.

"Look, we've been watching you work out around here, what's it been, two years? Something like that?" I nodded; he continued, "You've made progress like the poster kid for weight loss. I mean, if you could do what you've done, and don't punch me out, here, anybody could do it."

I had to admit: he was right. I was off-the-charts sorry when I started. I nodded.

"So, look, we can take you on as an employee, put you through some training, send you to a few classes, and then you work here helping others who were closer to your past, and make 'em like your present." He was speaking directly, looking me in the eye; there was no guile, no better-than-you, no insult, just a straight-ahead, common-sense business proposition.

I thought about it for a half-second; then I said, "You're on."

His face split into a grin; he reached across the table and took my hand, which he shook, and the deal was done.

The next seven weeks were a blur. My wife was impressed at my weight loss, and my career resurrection; my co-workers at the gym were complimentary of the station I'd attained.

And so it was, one sunny day in October, I began my new life as a glorified spotter. I had certifications to earn before I could do much more, but I could manage aerobics classes, help individuals with training regimens set out by others, that sort of thing.

I soon gained a throng (well, maybe that's too strong a word) of middle-aged and retired men and women, who seemed to see me as one of theirs. I was closer to sixty-five than to twenty-one, and most of the folks with whom I worked were in their fifties and sixties. To them, I was the young whippersnapper with the hair and the music. They were devoted to me; I reciprocated.

The autumn, and especially the winter, was my time of real growth. I gained the confidence of everyone in the gym; I helped my crowd take off those Thanksgiving and Christmas pounds. Those hardy souls, the ones who came in after the New Year to make resolutions they only half intended to keep, were taken under my wing, and those of my crowd; and we worked them suckers into healthy new bodies.

And so the months slipped by; my weight stabilized, and even increased, because muscle weighs more than fat. By late spring, my BMI was just under 21. My doctor had long since gone from bitching to backslapping.

One day, I was in a shared office, communal, really, when Mike came to the doorway and tapped a couple of times. I looked up, and there, beside him, stood a woman who appeared to be about thirty, looking heavy and unhappy, ready to start over, much as I had done.

Mike made the introductions -- her name was Emma -- and ducked out. Emma sat in the guest chair beside the desk, and we made a little small talk about her goals.

Before we got too far, I pulled out a Polaroid of me, taken the day I had first walked in the doors of the gym. When she realized it was me, she breathed, "How long... ?"

"About eighteen months," I answered.

Her eyes were enormous. "You did all this in eighteen months?"

"Well, most of it. What you see today," I looked down and waved my hand generally in the direction of my torso, "is the result of about three years, all told. A year ago, a little more, maybe, I had achieved the weight loss, and then it took another year to tone up some."

She was silent for a moment; then, "Could I lose weight that fast?"

I opened my hands, as if to say, "Weeeeeelllllll..."

"Let me explain," she said, and proceeded to give me her life's story. I was in no special hurry; her business was important to the gym, as Mike said, but he'd always then point out the customer's health was more important than a bottom line.

She was nineteen, she said; she looked older, but as I studied her features, I supposed she was telling the truth. She'd always been overweight, she told me, and her doctors had blamed it on hormone imbalances. She'd developed early, she blushingly admitted, and stayed fat; her pediatrician had simply scolded her (and her mother) for feeding her too much junk, something she resolutely held she had not done.

High school was misery, of course, and finally she had turned eighteen, at which time her parents' physician had become hers as well. He'd diagnosed her as having some runaway estrogen thing, self-corrective with the end of puberty, beyond her ability to explain, and beyond mine to do more than simply accept and follow along.

The good news was, she hadn't gained any weight in over three years; the bad news, college was just too damned hard, because the facilities were not meant for students with middle-aged obesity troubles.

"So," she concluded, "my folks said they'd let me quit school for a year, and work on losing the weight, and they'd pay my expenses. I checked with the dean of students, and she said I was in good standing, and I could come back next fall."

I did some mental arithmetic. "We have fifteen months, and the clock is ticking. Am I right?"

She nodded, looking hopeful.

I focused on her face and thought. "Clearance from your doctor?"

She reached into her purse and pulled out a note, from a Dr Feldmann. It was a general statement of her youth, health, and ability to withstand exercise.

I pondered again. "Okay, let's sign you up."

Her eyes grew large again. "I'll have to come back tomorrow, with my Dad. He's paying, and all..."

"Emma," I said sharply -- it got her attention -- "I'm taking you on as a project. It will be my goal, no, our goal, to put you in a college classroom in fifteen months. I have to tell you, it will take hard work, and I need to know you're serious."

Her eyes filled; she blinked back the tears, and said, "I understand."

I softened considerably. "So bring your father with you tomorrow. Bring both of your parents, I'd like to meet them; but before you leave here, you're going to get on a treadmill. Got it?" I was compassionate, but firm.

She looked terrified, but she nodded. I grinned, and said, "Follow me, kiddo."

She walked with me into the relative emptiness of the mid-afternoon gym. I took her to my personal favorite station, instructed her in the basics of treadmilling, and started her on her odyssey.

When I had to pull her off, panting and near cardiac arrest (not really) after only forty-five seconds, I flashed on my own first day.

Oh, yeah, this one was going to be a challenge.

The next day, Emma showed up at noon, right when I was coming on duty. She was accompanied by her father, a tall man to whom she bore a striking resemblance, in a Laurel-and-Hardy kind of way. I didn't mention that part.

We sat in the previous day's communal office, and I told her father all the same things I had told Emma. I showed him my picture; he was duly impressed.

After some fat-chewing (bad analogy, I know), he agreed I was probably the one to rescue his only child from her own body. I showed him where she had flamed out the day before; she, having slipped off into the ladies' locker room and back out, resplendent in loose-fitting sweat clothing, hopped up onto the treadmill, explaining to Daddy all the right things to do (she was a quick study, I had to give her that), and proceeded to walk for three minutes before showing signs of distress.

Daddy was sold. He signed the paperwork, paying for a year in advance. Before he left, he focused on me, giving me a stern look; then he shifted his gaze to Emma, and said, "Earn this." He walked out without another word.

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Thanks go out to Bob, SexyShay66 and LovesCyber for their review and editing of this story. This was my first attempt at writing erotica. Bob and I had a little contest so I can't wait to see what everyone thinks of this story. Thanks, Kati Self Discovery It had already been a very cold winter in Minnesota and I was looking forward to an escape after all the busy holidays. Ken had a business trip he had to go on and had invited me. I was so excited I would be spending two weeks in Hawaii at a...

Masturbation
2 years ago
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Self Confessions of a Gurl Lover

Self,How I got here started a long time ago. Just for the record, I’m a forty-nine-year-old, twice divorced, father of two, former soldier. I did a tour in Desert Storm, spent some time in Germany, and eventually got out of the Army after twenty years of service to Uncle Sam. My k**s were born in 1990 and 1994, a daughter and then a son. Those k**s, well adults now, are my pride and joy. My second career is as an EKG technician and I really like it. For fun, I play cards, checkers, chess,...

3 years ago
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Self pleasuring

Nothing better than giving your self a little pleasure to end the day. It was getting late and after searching the television for something to watch, and finding absolutely nothing worth watching, I decided to get on the ol' internet and surf a little porn. Searching through video of various categories, I found my cock starting to bulge while watching a compilation of guys taking nice dildos up the ass and using them to get off. Having a small collection of various dildos in my own collection,...

1 year ago
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Self Made woman

A self made woman She was hungry. Humans did not understand the term, even a famine victim was more easily fed than she was. She needed a very special diet, especially at this time of her cycle. The bar was packed, and the name, the Meet Market was only vaguely amusing. She had come here for the same reason as the humans had, sort of. They had an appetite just as she did, and they came to feed it. Her diet was more... comprehensive. She had considered different looks. The...

4 years ago
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Self Discovery An Erotic Story

They say that university is the place you go to discover who you are. To experiment with life to see what you like, what you don't, your tastes, your desires, what you have a flair for or just an inclination for. Well, let me tell you. Experimenting? I thought I'd been there, tried that; got the proverbial t-shirt. I did the drug thing and discovered it just wasn't my thing. I even did the fun stuff in the bedroom. The bondage. The costumes. The rough. The wild. The teasing. The kinky and...

4 years ago
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Improvements

The house looked so old and creepy compared to the pictures I had seen, someone must have got it on a good day, and extremely good day. Oh well, I was meeting the owner and estate agent, I pushed myself through the rusted gate which howled as an animal in pain. I cringed at the noise but saw the porch light come on and two shadows appeared. I walked towards them, gripping the edge of my skirt, making sure I wasn’t going to flash to them. Stepping up the wooden steps a hand met mine. “Miss...

2 years ago
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Home Improvements

It was still dark outside when Joan rolled over and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 5:30. Mark had at least 30 minutes before he had to get out of bed and get ready for work. Maybe she thought, just maybe she could interest him in an early morning fuck. She remembered that when they were first married he would make love almost every morning, but for the past few years his passion had cooled and he always seemed preoccupied with his work. Well, no harm in trying she thought. She...

2 years ago
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Selfie Stuck

Just a few more months, he thought as he erased the blackboard, avoiding the show that Sabrina was no doubt putting on as she rose from her desk at final bell.  Only when the room was empty did he breathe a sigh of relief and put down the eraser.Jacob picked up his things in preparation to leave, but there was a new vigil to observe first.  He waited for a half hour, watching out the window, until Sabrina’s red Audi pulled out onto the street.  Only then did he make the trek to his own car.The...

Reluctance
4 years ago
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Self Reflection

I’ve been seeing this Gemini for three months now and I must say that I’ve already found myself compromising and trying to be patient and trying to understand what I’ve gotten myself into. The thing is, he and I understand each other in more than just intellectual conversation, which is why I keep thinking he can’t possibly be a Gemini but however, this describes him to a t. I went three weeks without seeing him and barely communicating because he was so busy and it about had me bawling on the...

3 years ago
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SelfFulfilling Son

Michelle struggled to walk in the snow, stumbling from dead, frozen tree to dead, frozen tree. The full moon, huge, pale-blue amongst a starry night sky lit her way. Light reflected off the snow with an equally pale-blue hue. The air was so cold and still, almost like a vacuum; she could hear no sound. She paused at a black, frozen tree, her hand resting on the side. The tree was hard like cold concrete to the touch - as if it were petrified, frozen in time. Michelle exhaled. Her...

3 years ago
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Self indulgence

After a long, busy day, I finally undressed, sank into the comfort of my mattress and settled down under the duvet. Alone at last. I could hear the low hum of the TV downstairs and felt safe in the knowledge that my boyfriend had never come up to bed before the end of Match of the Day in the three years that we’d lived together. Which left me plenty of time for some self indulgence. I let my hands wander, stroking down my body, pulling up my sheer top. Feeling the curves of my full breasts and...

3 years ago
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Self Served a Webcam Adventure

Introduction: A sexy webcam performance with a twist at the end Self Served a Webcam Adventure She turns on her computer and brings up her live web site. Typing rapidly she opens the site and scans to see how many are logged in and waiting. A record crowd tonight! Well, well her satisfied customers are telling their friends and her fame is spreading. Not your average webcam babe, she is a thirty something redhead with waist length curly hair and a lush womans body with ample curves. She has...

4 years ago
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SelfTaught Sex Education

I am an only child, and my parents were married 18 years before I made an appearance.  I think they figured they would never have children.  Needless to say, I was a daddy’s girl, through and through.  My mother was a hard woman to love, and even harder to live with.  She had a vicious temper and tended to self-medicate with alcohol a bit too much.  My father, on the other hand, could do no wrong, in my eyes.    When I was five, my dad changed jobs for health reasons, and his new job...

3 years ago
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Self Destructive

Yes, this is a true story. By the time I was twenty years old a number of things had occured in my life to more or less mess me up in the head and I had a string of years that were rather self-destructive. This is an example of one of my less-than-stellar moments. I had been twenty-one for a couple months and was doing my part to keep the profits up at the Jack Daniels distillery. My favorite drink was the JD Long Island Iced Tea and I had no problem putting them away. I’d spent this...

4 years ago
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Selfbondage and the cleaner

I was off work for the day, time off owed to me that had to be used or it would be lost. It was cold and raining so I was enjoying a wonderful free day in the house. Curtains were drawn, phone was turned off, and I was indulging in some very enjoyable (and safe) self-bondage.I had dressed in a sexy nightie, see-through, very short and low-cut, fastened with just a single bow at each shoulder, just to make me feel naughty and playful. My ankles were secured to a spreader bar fixed to the bottom...

BDSM
3 years ago
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Self Employment Perks

I have my own landscape design studio. It’s quite small since I’m the only employee, but the benefits can’t be beat. A few years ago, I was asked to do a renovation design for someone I probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t needed the money during the Winter. I like to get design jobs in the cold part of the year to keep myself busy. This usually insures that I have installations during the Summer months. Oregon isn’t a fun place to work outside during the winter especially in soil that becomes...

Lesbian
2 years ago
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Self Possessionhellip

Since Andres and I had unexpectedly spit roasted Lisa that night, we’d had a few more visits to her place. He and I would go over and both treat her, very much as she wanted, roughly. We’d spend a few hours fucking and leave her cum-soaked and grateful on the floor of her lounge. A previous housemate, Australian Graham, had returned to the UK for a week on business in Winchester and asked if I wanted to go out for a few pints. Graham was a trusted mate. Well, trusted as in…. If I lent him £10k...

2 years ago
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SelfPleasuring

Self-PleasuringBy: Londebaaz Chohan Armando Conti; the Italian Stud, the man of the man! No doubt, he had hit the mature age of just above 55 but damn! Was he still horny as fuck or what. He was nobody’s fool and knew what and how to solve the being horny issues. For Armando, having a stiff erected cock was not the only signs of being horny. With his effectively functioning arms and hands a hard cock was never a problem but it was exactly the opposite that was a problem for him. He wanted...

2 years ago
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Self Cock Teasing

You need a random element to kind of simulate having an external teaser there. Maybe you can work out something with turning on the TV and only allowing yourself to stroke when a woman is onscreen or something. If not, I'll lay out the way to do it with the computer. Download a whole bunch of sexy images.Run a program that will display them in a random order.Set the program to display each random picture for 10 seconds.Before you start, make up a rule about what you get to do for each type of...

4 years ago
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self bound to pole for hubby

MasterYesterday’s requestI left the note you asked me to leave for my husband detailing that I should be punished for satisfying myself without your permission. The note explained the circumstances for the punishment and that he will find me ready in one of our playrooms. I put the note near the kettle knowing he would probably make a coffee as soon as he arrives home.I went out into our large playroom where the 2 tall upright posts exist. Mostly these posts are used to chain someone in the...

4 years ago
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Selffulfilling mom and son

Jeyalaxshmi (aka Jeya), a widow of 40 years, lives in a beautiful town in Southern Tamil Nadu along with her son Jegan who is now 25 years old. She lost her husband when her son was 15 years old. Since then her son has worked as hard as he can to keep the family afloat. They have no relatives and only had each other’s back for emotional support.Speaking of Jeya, she is an average looking South-Indian woman, who wears only saree even at home. She was skinny when she married her husband but now...

2 years ago
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Self indulgence

After a long, busy day, I finally undressed, sank into the comfort of my mattress and settled down under the duvet. Alone at last. I could hear the low hum of the TV downstairs and felt safe in the knowledge that my boyfriend had never come up to bed before the end of Match of the Day in the three years that we'd lived together. Which left me plenty of time for some self indulgence. I let my hands wander, stroking down my body, feeling the curves of my full breasts and gently pinching my...

Masturbation
2 years ago
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Self Destruction

"I guess I was always somewhat like this. Starting from the beginning, I was awkward as a teen. I was basically a stick figure. I didn't like my body at all. I had no curves, and nothing that I thought made me desirable to boys. I was all of five feet tall and weighed less than ninety pounds. My friend Angel had the body. She was always being hit on. She was blonde, and wore makeup better than I did. She had the curves the older boys loved, and she didn't mind sharing with them. She's really...

1 year ago
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Self Perception

Caterpillar Girl Self Perception The sun shinned down on Joe as he drove to his grandmother's home. He had to spend that day cleaning out that house. It was not how he wanted to spend that beautiful spring day, but he and his sister, Desiree, had promised their mother that they would do it. The old woman had died two months earlier, and her house was on the market. Their mother had already taken what she wanted for the home, but there were still quite a few items in the house....

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