[1st POV]
Workout was different when you were a devil hybrid.
Especially when you were me.
At my base form, I was already superhuman. I had surpassed peak human and entered the realm of impossibility.
The shit that Denji pulled in his devil form, like throwing a car or destroying a concrete building, I could do that without the need to transform.
I am just that strong.
And awesome.
"27, 28, 29 and 30," I said, pushing up the weight with ease. I stopped not because I couldn't anymore, but because if I went more, I would probably scare everyone in the gym.
I racked the weight and sat upright. The spotter behind me lost his tense posture and relaxed.
Not really relaxed, he was in disbelief.
I sat upright from the bench and touched my pecs, feeling them burn a bit now after my third set. It was a pump, albeit a small one.
My spotter leaned on the bar while still staring at me in disbelief that was held back by repeated proof.
"You gotta tell me what you are popping, bro," said Masaru, my gym bro.
He was the son of the owner of this gym and also a personal trainer and a bodybuilder. He was a muscular man, standing at 5'11 and weighing around 120 kilograms. He was a bit shorter than me but much bulkier.
"I told you before, I'm natural," I said, turning to him with a smile.
"If a lie and bullshit had a daughter named deceit, and deceit married a guy named falsehood. They'd have two children and name them, I'm and natural," he said all that with the straightest face.
I laughed, "Maybe deceit had an affair with truth and honesty. But still named their children I'm and natural,"
"Just tell me, please. I will give you a free membership for a lifetime," he said before quickly adding, "Heck, I'll give you the gym."
"Why are you so interested anyway? I'm nowhere near as muscular as you and you are a bodybuilder," I asked.
Masaru slapped the weight on the barbell I just bench-pressed, "These are 200 fucking kilograms, bro. That's more than my PR. If I can have what you are taking, goodbye bodybuilding and welcome powerlifting. I will break every single world record,"
"Sorry, but I have nothing to tell," I said with a shrug.
"I will let you fuck my wife," he said.
"No," his wife does have a nice ass, though. But I was a boob guy, not a shit glazer.
"I'll let you fuck me,"
"Absolutely not,"
"I'll sacrifice my firstborn in your name,"
"No."
"I'll give you my soul. I will build a cult in your name and worship you until the end of my life,"
"No, stop it,"
We both laughed at the jokes.
"Seriously, if you want to know it that badly, I will tell you," I said after laughing.
His eyes widened, "Wait, really?"
"Yes. Since you have been an impeccable spotter, I will share the secret. But only to you, don't tell anyone else," I said.
He looked around at the gym, making sure no one noticed before he leaned closer to me.
While holding back a smile, I began, "Do you know where testosterone comes from?"
"You mean like plant sterols?" he answered.
"No, no, those are just chemicals. I'm talking about real, raw, and natural testosterone," I said.
He shook his head and leaned even closer.
"It comes..." I said, trailing for suspense, "...It comes from the balls. So you have to take them from the source,"
His small Asian eyes widened even further, "You mean you eat human testicles?"
"No, dummy, that would be murder. I'm talking about gay sex," I said and finally broke out in laughter. I couldn't hold it anymore.
"Very funny. Real original," he tried to deadpan but he couldn't help but laugh as well.
"And here I was expecting a serious answer. I thought you're gonna say you made a deal with the Gym Devil or something," he said.
"Definitely don't do that. Making deals with devils is the greatest mistake a human can make, especially deals made out of greed or envy," I said, this time a bit serious.
There had been many instances where athletes or people in general made contracts with the devil to perform better or to become rich and famous. None of those ends well.
"You don't have to worry. Of course, I know better than that," he said with a smile.
"But really, you can get natural testosterone by eating balls. I read this in a book once. It was about this lion that lost his tail and was destined to be crippled. But somehow, he became the strongest creature that ever lived because he would eat the balls of his prey," I said.
"You mean you read a fictional book," he said.
"It was completely real and scientifically based. It even has documentaries," I said.
"You mean fictional and creatively based and the author has great imagination," he said, "I've read that too, it's a fanfic right? The main character is Leo and is killed by a gang of lions in the end that sought revenge against him,"
"Damn, you've read that too?" I admitted in the end.
"Everyone's read that. It's popular,"
I reached out my hand and he gave me a fist bump.
"Peak recognises peak," I said.
"Okay, get ready. I'm going for another set," I said, laying down on the bench. I could push my pump a little more.
"Already?" he asked but he followed my action and helped me get the bar off the rack.
And so I continued my set.
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...." I said, pushing up the iron.
Unlike what was portrayed in most fictional stories, superhuman strength did not really make the weight feel lighter or effortless. I did not break things or use more strength than necessary in daily activities.
Superhuman strength simply meant that your effort had a higher ceiling. Pushing up a 200-kilogram bar still felt like pushing a 200-kilogram bar. It required the same effort.
What was different, though was the ceiling of effort. Normal people would experience their bodies failing no matter how much effort they put in, but I did not have that. My effort bore results because my body was capable.
A good comparison was pain tolerance. Just because I have a high pain tolerance doesn't mean I cannot feel the pain of a needle anymore. It hurts just the same as anyone else. But I just have an increase in the amount of pain I can bear.
It was something that needed to be experienced, not something you could imagine.
..
/////
"Get a load of this guy," I said, flexing my bicep in front of the giant mirror the gym had that expanded throughout most of the wall.
"Get a load of this, and this," I said, flexing my pecs and then my triceps.
Masaru, who was standing beside me, sniffled a laugh. I turned to him with a fake mad expression.
"What's so funny?" I asked.
"Nothing, keep going," he said with a wave.
I narrowed my eyes at him before turning back to the mirror. My torso was bare and even without flexing, I had a very good physique. It was not because of my hard work mind you, mostly just a natural development from being so strong.
I raised my arms to flex my biceps once more but I heard small laughs again.
"Seriously, stop that," I said, turning to him.
"I apologise humour exists," he said.
"It's not funny," I said.
"It's kinda funny when you pose like a pigeon," he said.
"I don't even know how pigeons pose,"
"Then don't,"
I was stumped.
"You think you can do better? Why don't you come and show me big guy," I said.
And as if he was waiting for this moment his whole life, the dude took off his pump cover shirt and walked up to me.
"Okay, let me show you how a pro does it," he said and began posing right beside me.
Although I was taller, he made me feel tiny when he began posing. Every move he made was like a dance. It was not like my pose, he did not even seem like he was trying as his muscles rippled like they had life of their own and arranged themselves in a way a perfect human should look.
After he did a few poses, he turned to me with a smirk.
"Show off,"
"I can teach you," he said, "You have a good aesthetic physique. If you know a proper pose, you'd look good,"
"Okay, show me," I said and he began teaching me how to pose.
"Powerlifting might be your thing but this is my world," he said. "Let's do the classic, front double bicep,"
I at least knew how to do that much.
"Wrong," he said immediately, and tapped at my shoulder, "Drop this,"
I did but with a grumble.
"You look like you're shitting diamonds. Relax a bit," he said.
"But I'm flexing," I said, squeezing my muscles.
"You're trying," he said and forcefully pushed my arms down.
"Do it again, this time don't think about flexing your arms, think more about bringing up your lats and making yourself wider," he said.
I did as instructed.
"Bring up your arms a little," he said, "A little more, perfect,"
"Now elbows a little forward,"
When I did everything he asked, my reflection in the mirror got much better.
He nodded in satisfaction, "That's a front double bicep. It's not only about the arms, you need to use your whole body to make them look bigger,"
"Cool," I said, grinning ear to ear.
Masaru taught me a bunch of other poses afterwards. Posing was not as easy as it seemed like most sports. There were proper techniques and different processes to follow to use your muscles to look their best.
After nearly half an hour, I had gotten much better at posing.
And I couldn't stop.
"Okay, you can stop now," Masaru said with an unimpressed face while I pulled up my chest in an acceptable side chest pose.
"Is everyone looking at me?" I asked, tensing my muscles.
"No one's looking at you," he said.
"They should," I said with a pleased smile at my figure.
"You've been posing for nearly an hour. Everyone had their looks, now they got used to it," he said.
"What about the lady wearing the oversized shirt that failed miserably at hiding her blessings. Did she turn towards me at least once?" I asked.
"No,"
"Then I'll keep doing until she does," I said and did a tricep pose.
"Clap your hands or something so she can turn this way," I said, nearly out of breath because of posing.
"Your narcissism has no end. I should've never taught you how to pose," he sighed but with a smile. We both knew that we were joking and just having fun most of the time.
While I was in the middle of posing, everyone suddenly turned towards the direction of the door. Even the men who were staring at me looked away.
Masaru did too.
"What? What's going on?" I asked, still in the middle of another pose.
But getting no answer and seeing from the mirror that something absolutely captured his eyes, I dropped my pose and turned too.
That's when I saw her.
A body.
The dictionary definition of a female body. An hourglass figure with long legs, wide hips and a thin waist. Her thighs were thick but not in a fat way, more in a supple way.
She wore yoga pants and a loose small shirt that showed her perfect core when she moved too much. The opening on the neck was wide, showing the shoulder strap of her sports bra. The colours of her clothes were dark in colour, a black shirt and purple pants.
Japan was very strict on modesty. Although what she wore was nothing lewd, it would be frowned upon in a gym like this. To make matters worse, her body made these normal gym dresses absolutely disgusting, the good kind of disgusting. It was like she was corrupting her clothes.
I always pride myself as a big boob guy, but maybe a medium-sized breast was the perfect size in the perfect figure.
The body walked closer to me. And it didn't stop even when I thought it would stop.
Then I heard a voice.
"Jin!!"
And that's when I finally saw the face on the body.
"Reze?" I asked, absolutely bewildered.
What the fuck is she doing here?
She walked towards me. No, not a simple walk but a mix between that and skipping. She had a wide smile on her face that bordered on amusement. She seemed happy with the reaction I gave her.
"What-?"
"You said you come to this gym sometimes, mostly on Thursday. So I figured I'd surprise you," she said, all smiles.
"That's- that's-" that should be illegal for her, "That's good," I said with a cough and a red face.
I was mostly embarrassed because of the ogling I did like an absolute horn dog. I try my best to not do that. But my posing and my current fixation on the body made me focus solely on hers.
Damn it, so embarrassing.
But as if she could hear my thoughts, she got even by shamelessly eyeing me up and down. Her eyes focused on the muscle below my abs, the Adonis belt.
I covered myself like a highschool girl. All confidence evaporated when she looked at me so closely.
"Am I late? Did you already work out?" she asked when her eyes finally met mine again.
"...Just warm-ups," I was so done with my workout already.
"Great! Then we can do it together. Wait for me while I fill my bottle," she said and walked towards the restroom.
Masaru and I watched her go together.
Watching her go got me thinking, maybe I am a shit glazer.
..
"What God did you pray to dude?" Masaru asked after she left.
"I don't pray," I said.
"Please tell me. And if not, ask one for me too," he said.
"I told you, I don't pray,"
"I'll sacrifice my firstborn,"
"Are we deadass doing this again?"
....
Although Reze visiting the same gym I often go to came initially as a sweet surprise.
The longer I hung around with her, the more I felt unease.
Our previous interactions were normal before. Just like yesterday, things between us were developing beautifully and naturally.
But somehow, she made it feel like we regressed. Things were too forced again. And fake too, just like the time when we first met.
I was not a genius by any means, but I'm smart enough to smell shit when shit was presented to me.
I could guess.
..
..
[IMAGE]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------