The Goddess Who Haunts Me (extended video) (Patreon)

I’m a married man, but I’d leave it all to kiss her feet. She’s a gym goddess, and I can’t stop thinking about her. Will I break my vows?

I’m back at the gym again, same time as always—6 p.m., right after work, my tie still loose around my neck as I change into my workout clothes. I tell myself I’m here to stay in shape, to keep up my routine, but that’s a lie. I’m here for her. The woman who’s taken over my every thought, the one I can’t stop thinking about, the one who’s making me question everything I thought I knew about myself. I’m a married man, 42 years old, with a wife and a mortgage and a life I’ve built over 15 years, but I’d leave it all just to kiss her feet. That’s how far gone I am.

I see her as soon as I walk onto the gym floor, standing near the squat rack, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, her body a masterpiece of muscle and power. She’s in a white sports bra and shiny leggings that hug every curve, her abs a chiseled wall, her thighs thicker than my waist, her arms bulging with strength I’ll never know. I’m just an average guy—5’10”, a bit of a dad bod despite my efforts—and next to her, I feel like nothing. She’s a goddess, a titan, and I’m just a mortal who’s stumbled into her temple.

I come to the gym every day now, just to see her. I used to go twice a week, maybe three if I was feeling motivated, but ever since I first saw her a month ago, I can’t stay away. I’ll sit at my desk at work, staring at spreadsheets, but I can’t concentrate. My mind drifts to her—her flexing as she lifts weights I couldn’t even dream of touching, her confident stride as she moves between machines, the way she catches her reflection in the mirror and smirks, knowing she’s untouchable. I’ll be on a call with a client, nodding along, but all I can think about is her, wondering what she’s doing, if she’s at the gym right now, if she’s flexing those arms that could crush me without a second thought.

I try to be a good husband—I really do. I love my wife, Sarah, or at least I thought I did. We’ve been together since college, built a life together, laughed through the hard times. But she’s let herself go over the years, her body soft and round, her energy drained by the kids and the daily grind. I can’t help but compare her to this woman, this goddess who haunts my every waking moment. Sarah’s belly jiggles when she walks; this woman’s abs are a fortress of strength. Sarah’s arms are flabby; this woman’s biceps are bigger than mine, rippling with power I can’t even fathom. I feel guilty every time I think it, but I can’t stop. With a girl like that in the world, how am I supposed to be the husband I promised I’d be?

I watch her now as she loads up the barbell—hundreds of pounds, more than I’ve ever lifted in my life—and she squats it like it’s nothing, her thighs flexing, her glutes hardening into stone. I’m on the treadmill, pretending to jog, but I haven’t taken a real step in minutes. I’m just staring, my heart pounding, my palms sweaty. I imagine myself walking over to her, dropping to my knees, pressing my lips to her feet, worshipping her like the deity she is. I’d leave everything for her—my wife, my house, my job—just for the chance to be near her, to feel her power, to be hers, even for a moment. I’d give up my whole life just to kiss the ground she walks on.

I picture us together, in some fantasy that plays on a loop in my mind. She’d take me to a secluded cabin, her arms carrying me like I weigh nothing, her strength overwhelming me as she sets me down. She’d flex for me, showing off every muscle, and I’d kneel before her, my hands trembling as I reach out to touch her, to feel the power I’ve been dreaming of. She’d laugh, her voice deep and commanding, and tell me I’m hers, that I belong to her now, and I’d nod, tears in my eyes, knowing I’ve never wanted anything more.

But then I snap out of it, the treadmill beeping because I’ve been standing still too long. She’s moved to the leg press now, her body a symphony of strength, and I’m still here, a married man with a ring on his finger and a vow I’m breaking in my mind. I want to be good, I want to be faithful, but how can I when she exists? When she’s here, every day, a living goddess who makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t in years? I watch her finish her set, her muscles glistening with sweat, and I know I’ll be back tomorrow, same time, same place, chasing this feeling I can’t escape. I’m a man torn apart, and she’s the storm that’s breaking me.