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Spotted

The locker door closed quietly, accompanied by a small, nearly silent sigh. The young white stoat looked carefully around himself, grateful that he didn't see any of the faces that usually meant trouble, or at least moderate discomfort. He had thought about joining another gym, but there were no refunds on this place, and he still had a few months to go. Beyond that, he was feeling just stubborn enough to be pissed about the comments from the peanut gallery, and he was damned if he was just going to give up. He was in this for himself, not for other people's approval.

That didn't keep him from bristling his fur in uncomfortable anticipation.

He adjusted his clothing and rose to leave the locker room. Simple garb in a gym, as a rule - shorts and A-frame or t-shirt were the norm, except for the big buff boys who wanted to show off every muscle that they could, or a new design dyed or burned or tattooed into their fur. It was not something that the stoat shared with them. In fact, as he looked around at the various people scattered through the old-style gymnasium, he realized that he probably shared nothing at all with them. Most of these guys seemed to be trying to build themselves into Adonises, or failing that, into reasonable approximations of the Incredible Hulk. He would be happy simply to be able to walk, ride a bike, or play simple football with friends in someone's back yard without succumbing to being just plain tired.

As usual, the Nautilus and other automatic machines were the first to fill up. The stoat moved to one side, doing some basic stretching and warm-ups, hoping one would become free soon, but none did. Sighing softly, he went to the free weights area and began some work with simple dumbbells. Those, at least, were something that he could use on his own to start with. He wanted to do some bench presses, though, and that would be best with a spotter.

Upper body today; lower body in a few days. He plotted out the short regimen, making sure that he was on the proper track. He concentrated on doing his bicep reps slowly, in good form. He alternated arms every 25 reps, letting each arm rest a little before doing it again. After 50 on each arm, he used the dumbbells for building his triceps, more or less reversing the first form and working the other main set of upper arm muscles.

"I guess ten pounds is all a fag can lift, huh?"

Focusing on his breathing and his form, the stoat did his best to ignore the comment from the big Rottweiler nearby, as well as the rough chuckles from his little band of muscle-brained jerks. The comment carried only a very short distance, just enough for the stoat to hear. The people who ran the gym didn't much care for altercations and they did what they could to keep this sort of jeering and insults to a minimum. They couldn't stop what they didn't see.

"Prolly practicing to be able to open a car door on his own instead of having his boyfriend do it for him," the Rotty shot off again, to a slight increase in the amusement of his audience.

_ ...fourteen... fifteen... sixteen..._

The stoat felt more than saw the Rottweiler approaching to his left. He didn't have any idea what to do other than to just keep on with his routine, hoping that ignoring the idiot would make him go away. He didn't think that would work, but he let himself hope.

"No, wait, I know what it is. You're making your arms stronger so you can be dangled from the ceiling like raw meat, right? You fags are into the whole bondage thing. You must be really dedicated to your Master."

_ ...twenty-four... twenty-five. Change paws..._

There was a sense of the Rotty stepping back suddenly. "Hey, did you see that guys? He tried to hit me with that dumbbell. He tried to attack me!"

The stoat turned to look at the dog in sheer terror. "No! No, I was just--"

"Oh, you need a lesson, little faggot."

The Rottweiler fisted one paw and hauled it backward. In the next split-second, the clenched forepaw was quite literally enveloped in another paw of smooth smoky blue.

"Perhaps you need a better teacher."

The deep, soft voice, seeming to be barely above a whisper, came from the cerulean-furred lion standing well over six and half feet tall. His full indigo mane framed a calm, smooth face, eyes of deep antique gold seeming to freeze the Rottweiler in place. The dog struggled briefly with removing his fist from the lion's paw before realizing that - as the old phrase would have it - resistance was futile.

"The boxing ring is over there," the lion said softly. "Were you looking for a sparring partner?"

"Lay off, Leo," the dog said. "I was just tryin' to teach this little faggot some manners."

The big cat's brows came together in innocent confusion. "Did this fellow proposition you?"

"What? Hell, no!"

"Do you want to proposition him?"

The dog's eyes flew open. "FUCK no!"

The lion_tsked_ a bit. "Now, now, we're trying to tone down the language in the gym. Let's see if I have this correct: You have no sexual interest in this young fellow, right?"

The dog was about to release another epithet when he realized that his fist was being squeezed quite powerfully. "No," he whimpered.

"Did you want to spot for him, or do some sparring, or just plain make friends?"

More squeezing. "NO," came the more desperate whimper.

"Then I don't see why you're always over here bothering him. The poor fellow looks so shy that he probably just doesn't know what to say when he sees you. I suggest that you break the ice. Why don't you say goodbye to the nice lad?"

A whisper: "Goodbye..."

A final squeeze. The stoat could have sworn that he heard a sharp crack in the air, but that was probably his imagination. The lion let go of the Rottweiler's paw as casually as if he had tossed an empty coffee container into the trash. The dog held on with his other paw and tried, cautiously, to flex the fist open.

"Looks like a painful spasm," the lion said. "I'd recommend some hot water - maybe the spa upstairs? I'm sure it'll be fine by morning. You should warm up better. Save a lot of pain later if you make the right moves first."

The dog and his cronies moved away, one or two muttering, very quietly. When they were gone, the lion looked back at the young stoat and smiled softly. The stoat, for his part, could only stand and stare, the dumbbell hanging limply from his paw.

"Did you finish your tricep reps?" the lion asked softly.

"Umm..." The stoat swallowed. "No."

"You should finish them. And I should sit down before you get a stiff neck." Suiting actions to words, the lion sat on the mat across from the young lad and said, "You have a name, I hope?"

"Yeah." More disbelief than fear, although fear probably had something to do with it as well. "My name is Aaron."

"I'm Aleksandr Pyotr Marseyavich Mashchenko."

Aaron just stared.

"How about Alek?"

"At least I could remember that." Tentatively, Aaron put out a paw to the lion, who grasped it gently and returned it in excellent condition. "Thank you, Alek."

"You're welcome. Now - back to the reps. Remember where you were?"

"Yeah, just one more set on the left arm..." The stoat began working gently, counting to himself.

"Good form," Alek noted. "You've been doing this a while, I would guess; your muscles are showing good definition."

"Thank you. You must have been doing this stuff all your life."

The lion snorted amiably. "Started early and just didn't stop. It's more maintenance than improvement at this point; I think I've got about as much musculature as I need."

"I'd say so. You look great." Aaron finished his reps, then looked a little startled. "Not that I'm... I mean..."

Alek smiled. "Me first. Yes, Aaron, I'm gay. I'm not predatory, or I'd probably have pounced you the last few times I spotted for you. I saw you having trouble with those guys today, and I hoped that I could help."

"You're... gay?"

"Would it help if I pranced around a little? I don't usually, but if it'll help..."

Aaron looked away, embarrassed. "Oh God, I'm sorry, I..." He sat down on the mat across from the lion and looked at him. "I'm being an idiot. I don't know what to say."

"Then I'm right? You're not gay?"

"No, I'm not."

The lion grinned hugely enough to include his whiskers. "I thought not. That's what made me so angry with those guys. Stereotypes and all. I wonder if they think I'm gay."

"I didn't think so." Aaron paused, blushed. "I mean, I don't really much wonder who's gay and who's not. No one's tried to fondle me or anything." He paused again. "I'm sorry, Alek. I haven't met anyone who's gay. Or as they say, I probably just don't know that I have. So I probably seem like an idiot."

"You're still talking to me, so I guess there's hope for you yet." The lion chuckled. "I'm teasing, Aaron, and I'll knock it off. Look, I'm still happy to spot for you if you'd like. And I'd understand if you'd rather not have me around. I don't broadcast my sexuality, and I don't hide it either. If they find out I'm gay, you might get branded by association."

"The only reason that I'd care is if they still want to use me for a punching bag." The stoat smiled. "I wasn't bothered that they called me a fag; I'm just allergic to getting beaten up. It leaves all these big welts and bruises on me, and antihistamine just doesn't help."

Alek laughed. "You are more cool than you admit, kid. Now - bench presses?"

Aaron grinned. "Bench presses."

As the stoat began putting weights onto the barbell, Alek looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. No problem."

"What were you pressing last week?"

After a pause, Aaron admitted, "About 60 pounds."

"The week before?"

"Fifty."

The lion pointed. "Take off about twenty pounds on that side, willya? Bring it back to 60. You're working for stamina, not bulk, right?"

With an embarrassed tail-flick, Aaron said, "Yeah."

"Okay - big weight and fewer reps is tear-down for bulk, lighter weight and more reps is toning for stamina. I know you know that. You trying to impress me so that I'll ask you out?"

Aaron laughed. "So you've twigged to my fiendish plan!"

With a flourish, the lion pointed at the bench. "Have at you! Get on that bench and take your punishment, you rogue!"

The stoat went through two sets of 25 reps, then paused for breath. "Hey, Alek - thanks for spotting me. This weight must seem like nothing to you."

"That's not the point. Right, Aaron?"

He sighed, then smiled. "Right. You've got your regimen, I've got mine, and we're both working toward what we want."

"Attaboy." Alek grinned. "Trust me, it's the only way to stay sane in a gym. If you start comparing yourself to others, especially those who've been doing this a while, you'll get discouraged and not come back."

"Did that ever happen to you?"

"Oh, sure. Couple of times."

"What brought you back?"

The lion shook his head. "You don't want to know."

"Sure I do. Really."

"Well, there was this really hot-looking cheetah..."

"I don't want to know."

"Told you. You ready to quit, or you think you can do one more set?"

"Let's try it. One last set." Aaron braced his arms and took the barbell in his paws. "Thanks again for spotting for me."

"At least I know you're not trying to look up my shorts."

"Oh God, you had to bring that up..."

The last 25 reps were more difficult than Aaron would first have thought they would be. He was very glad for Alek's help on the last five, when his muscles began to thrum like the violent tintinnabulation of a huge bell struck with an equally large hammer. Alek helped him just a bit on each one, talking him through, urging him on, so that by the time Aaron was finished, both of them had worked up something of a sweat. Aaron lay on the bench panting, looking up at Alek towering above him and smiling down at him. "So... was it good for you?"

"Oh, baby, you're the best," Aaron panted, grinning. "Yeah, I think that about polished me off."

"They all say that."

Aaron laughed. "Just for that, I'm going to make you stay outside while I shower."

"Oh, no!" Alek gesticulated dramatically. "No, please, it's what I live for! I'll scrub your back! I'll wash your tail! Please don't make me wait outside!"

"Oh, okay." Aaron sat up, still breathing hard. "Am I turning gay yet?"

"It's only gay if you use my shampoo."

"Good thing I brought my own."

"Oh pooh." Alek tousled Aaron's headfur and grinned at him. "If I convert one more, I get a toaster oven."

Aaron looked up at the lion. "I'm not at all sure how to ask this question. It wants to come out something like, Are all gay men as cool as you are?"

"You're just lucky that way."

"Found the best first?"

"You got it."

"Any more like you at home?"

"Two, actually. Would you like to meet them?"

"One thing at a time - let's see if we can shower together first."

The lion frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, Aaron, I'm presuming like hell. If that's a problem..."

"If I don't use your shampoo, and I don't drop the soap..."

Alek laughed. "You've been briefed on this subject somewhere."

"Only through bad jokes, and a guy I knew who was a submariner. You know - 150 guys go down, and six months later, 75 couples come up." He chuckled lamely, pausing. "I don't want to get maudlin, but I feel that I've got some things to learn. Clichés and stereotypes, all that crap."

"You're doing pretty well. Let's get a shower, then I'll find some grimy piece of paper that I probably should have thrown away weeks ago, scrawl a false name and my phone number on it, and you can pretend that I tried to pick you up."

"Seriously?"

"Or I could just hand you a business card."

Aaron nodded. "Better. Shower."

"Don't forget your shampoo."