“Pffft. Huuuuu. Pffft.”

“One more.”

“Pffft.” I pushed up once again.

“One more.”

And another one.

“One more.”

And another.

“One more.”

And—yo, how many ‘one more’s’ do you want?

“Keep it coming.”

“Pffft.” I huffed out another breath of air as I forced the bar up.

“One more.”

“Huuuu.” I breathed in while I pulled the bar onto my chest.

Up, “Pffft.”

“Come on.”

Fuck, it itches. My arms are still sore too.

“Oi. Keep your elbows tucked in. Come on, one more.”

“Pffft.”

“Hold it. Hold it. Keep that tension. Don’t stop till I say so. Come on! Keep it flexed.”

“Don’t think! Focus! Clench your glutes! Your hamstrings! Everything!”

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, keep it up, 5, 4, 3, hold.”

Fucking count correctly you…

“2, 1...”

Finally.

“Alright, ONE MORE!!!”

The fuck? I just held a static hold for 15 seconds after doing 14 reps. You want me to do another one?

As I brought the barbell down to my chest, my arms were shaking throughout. I gripped the bar with a stone-cold grip, so I was assured that even if my arms let out, my hands wouldn’t. If I did drop the bar…let’s not think about that.

Taking a deep breath in, I got ready to push the air out with my diaphragm as my back arched. I pushed the ground with my feet to make sure my entire body was retaining the tension. If any part of my body was soft, then energy would leak. Muscles were like balloons. When there's a hole, the oxygen holding the balloon together will leak. And the moment my muscles ceased activation would be my death date.

“Good, just like that. Keep your butt on the bench.”

I’ve seen in some videos where a guy would spot the person who was bench pressing the weight by holding it. But Trevor was standing there with his arms crossed as if he knew the weights weren't going to fall. If the weights did fall, I'd get crushed and die. But he wasn’t even batting an eye out. It was as if the weight I was benching was a joke in his eyes—which is not wrong. I’ve never touched weights before. Not once, not ever. I’d rather train at home than waste money going to a gym.

As I reached a full extension of my arms with my elbows locked out, ready to drop the bar onto the hanger, I was stopped yet again.

“Keep your elbows locked. Hold it.”

“…”

Should I be saying something so that the pain will end? Oh wait—I don’t even have the power to use my vocal cords when I was constantly pushing air out of my lungs. I should be breathing… Am I breathing? I feel the air in my throat, but was it moving in, or out? Have I even been breathing?

“Bring it down.”

I lunged it down immediately, giving my muscles a small frame of relaxation as it moved under the force of gravity.

“Do it slowly next time. It is important to prolong the time under tension. Keep it slightly elevated above your chest. Hold.”

And like that, I found myself in an extremely awkward position. It was heavy, but most of the force was on my shoulders and no longer my chest. I could feel my traps¹ tightening as they took on the burden. The muscles around my elbow were getting sore too. It was as if I was Atlas, the titan who held up the sky. My stomach was the ground whereas the barbell was the sky. The moment it collapses, my body will get penetrated by countless spikes.

My forearms were still quaking which concerned me.

After god-knows how long, I saw a large hand hovering above my face. Oh shit! Not again.

Instead of grabbing my face, the unfamiliar hand reached under the barbell.

“One more rep. Come on.” The man said.

My vision was already starting to fog up as my brain started to empty. I need to breathe… Breathe…

As if noticing my plight, the god before me snatched the skies away from me with a single tug. I was... Freed?

“BREATHE!” The voice of Jesus—I mean Trevor brought me back to reality.

Breathe, the voice compelled me.

So I did. I took in the precious oxygen with my chest. Oxygen. The delight that is for all. Without it, human life would cease to exist. Maybe the plants are in a way, cultivating us humans to give them carbon dioxide. Maybe we are in actuality, the plants; and they: the predators...

When did I become such a sophisticated person? Have I perhaps enlightened myself and reached the essence of Buddhahood? But—

“Get up, we don’t got all day.”

A crisp sound resonated off my cheek. My cheek was being tapped.

Taking a deep breath in, I got up off the bench.

With my back off the bench, I could feel the tiny droplets of sweat moisturizing my back. It wasn’t wet. It was the sensation of greasy moistness when you applied lotion to the hands. My back was dry, but my skin wasn’t. It was burning. Particularly on my back—where my shoulder blades were. Keeping them flexed the whole time while bench pressing was hard. It was sore, but not really. After a good minute, it should return to normal.

“You sure you've never been to the gym before?” Trevor asked.

“No, I watched some videos.” I really did.

“Well, your form was pretty good considering it was your first time.”

“...”

“I mean it. Benching 95 pounds for your first time is really good. Do you feel it?”

I stretched my arms out into a T-pose and rotated my shoulders. Yeah, I could definitely feel that tightness.

“You feel the range of motion, don't you? Must feel nice.” He said.

I somewhat agreed with him. Muscle soreness was painful, but it was also because it was painful that it felt nice and warm. How do I explain it?—Or maybe there isn’t an explanation for such a phenomenon. Maybe I’m just a masochist and Trevor happened to be similar. The pain of growth? What even is pain? Growth is just the will’s desire. I guess Nietzsche may be right in that part. It would explain why I liked the muscle pain. The fact that I can endure it, feeds into my ego, and embellishes me with a sense of power. Or perhaps I’m just a masochist. Yeah—I’m probably a masochist.

“Let’s check out your curls.”

Walking over to where the dumbbells were, I noticed all of them were bulky in size. I probably couldn’t lift any of them.

“Try a thirty.” Trevor pointed to the smallest pair available.

Gripping both of the dumbbells with my fingers underneath, I fixed myself upright. I don’t know if I can actually curl this. It may be too much. Either way, I took a deep breath in and held it.

As I pulled my right arm up, my glutes and abdominals squeezed tightly for stability. I was only at the halfway point, and I couldn’t go any further. My biceps weren’t even at work—or I couldn’t feel it. My traps were taking all the force.

“Stop.” Hearing the signal, I put the dumbbells down and gasped in relief.

“Since those are too heavy, do pull-ups instead.”

We went over to a stand with a pull-up bar on it. It looked like one of those ‘Hang for 100 seconds’ scams you'd find at the amusement park.

“Do them with your hands underneath.”

“Chin-ups?”

“Yeah.” He said.

I looked at the bar with my eyes for a couple seconds before making a small jump to grab it.

“Do as many as you can.”

I kept my eyes on the bar, and I made sure my core and butt cheeks clenched together. My feet were pushing down on the empty air as my arm suspended my body in the air.

Three.

I took a breath in.

Two.

Exhale.

One.

In.

Go.

***

“We’re seriously going to have to work on your upper body and back. Everything else is mostly fine. How the hell did your biceps and triceps get so imbalanced?” Trevor asked.

I didn’t exactly have access to a pull-up bar or any other convenient equipment. The only thing I was able to really do was push-ups. While I did try making a makeshift pull-up bar with a broomstick, it ended up breaking…

“Anyway, it’s still impressive that you can bench 90 pounds on your first time. Starting tomorrow, your training will start. Go take a shower and rest up. I’ll prepare lunch in a minute.”

“Alright,” I said, as I went up the stairs. Who’d have thought there was a basement as large as a football field underneath this villa. The crazy thing was that the whole basement was filled with gym equipment and other machinery I had never seen before.

From what I can understand, the big guy, Trevor owned everything—including this entire piece of land in the mountains. If anything, the Catskills were a mountain forest, and the fact that he owned a part of it, meant he was extremely rich. I don’t understand why the old man would call him a servant. Trevor was also a pretty nice guy from what I could tell. While his muscles spoke otherwise, his words were not intimidating at all. While my earlier assessment said he was a musclehead, that may be wrong. He could very well be some sort of Professor Hulk.

I had already toured around so I had a good idea where everything was. My room was on the second floor which was also where the bathroom was... Well, there were three bathrooms.

It wasn’t anything—it isn’t anything—it’s nothing? I don’t know. Let’s stop thinking… I guess I can’t actually ignore it, can I?

I somehow have a trainer now.

I somehow have a new home now.

I somehow have freedom. Is it freedom?

Why?

It wasn't an opportunity.

And it sure as hell isn’t luck. Or maybe it is.

So how?

Destiny?

What bullshit.

Even though it is bullshit, if it weren’t for the old man’s delusions of being the Prophet, I would not be here. An impossible situation turned out possible for no particularly explainable reason. To thank or not to thank? To think or not to think? Let’s not think. But I can’t—I’m showering. To not think in the showers is the same as not sleeping in the bed. How do I stop thinking in the showers? Penis?

That came out of nowhere…

I guess I could sing to distract myself.

How did it go again? Fly me to the moon… No, that’s too embarrassing even if I’m the only one in the showers. Let’s just hum.

After I finished washing, I grabbed one of the readily available white towels and dried myself.

Checking myself once over the mirror, I realized I didn’t have deodorant… Should be fine, right? It’s not like I smell. Rather, I don’t sweat a lot nor do I have a foul stench.

“COME DOWN FOR LUNCH!!!” The shout startled me. Instead of being muffled by the walls, it seems like it echoed.

“COMING!” I shouted back. Had I been in front of the man himself, I don’t think I would have had the balls to shout. But seriously? I spent only about four minutes showering at most and he prepared lunch in that short time frame?

I rushed to ‘my room’ and it was only then that I realized I hadn’t packed any clothes…

“MORRIS SHIPPED SOME CLOTHES FOR YOU LAST NIGHT!!! I PUT EM IN THE WARDROBE!!!” Shouted Trevor from downstairs.

I hadn’t actually been around the room yet so I had no clue. While I had a quick tour of the villa, most of the time was spent in the basement because Trevor said he needed to measure my data. And that was because Morris, the old man, wants me to be trained by a professional. I don’t really understand what I’m training for, but if I need to do it, I’ll do it.

I shuffled through the pile of clothes until I found an acceptable one. It was a normal blue shirt made of what I’d assume is cotton. As for pants, I wore some shorts that were grey in color. And underwear... What the fuck is this? Why are all of these thongs? I'm not wearing this shit even if it means I don't wear underwear. Where are the boxers?

I had left my backpack that had my headphones in them besides the bed.

Stretching my arms over my head in the new clothes, I gave a yawn as I headed downstairs.

After turning a hard left, I made it to the dining table that just happened to be sitting around in the living room.

Trevor was already sitting there waiting for me…

I have to say, that massive body didn't really fit the chair, or rather, the chair didn’t fit him.

I took a seat on the opposite side of the table where the plate was.—Plates were. There were two plates in front of me as well as a glass of water.

Looking across the table, I saw the man himself with two plates, except both filled to the brim with food. If the food on my plate covered 100% of the plate, then his plates were filled past 150%. Instead of a glass of water, there was some brown liquid in it.

“You want some?” He asked, seeing that I was looking at the poop—brown water.

“Protein?”

“Yeah, it’s just protein powder mixed with water or a shake if you add milk. Whatever they call it these days.”

“Sure,” I said.

“Cold?”

“Room temperature’s fine.”

“Gotcha.” He took my glass and went through the door behind him. It was probably the kitchen.

At that moment, I took a look at my food compared to the pyramid that was on his plates.

A normal American—a normal meal. An American meal would be some greasy burger with fat and cheese dripping everywhere. This was more of a mix between Italian and, well—Italian. Just some normal tubular pasta. I’m sure there’s a specific name for it but I’m not Italian enough to know. Pasta is pasta.

The other dish was…

Chicken? No. It was some sort of mysterious meat formed into pellets. It was definitely grounded meat. Ground pork isn’t grey like that. So what was it?

The kitchen’s sliding door opened and Trevor came out with a glass of brown stuff as well as a bowl.

“Here ya go.” He put the glass onto my side and took a seat.

I watched as he scooped some white curds out of the bowl and into the pasta.

Seeing that I was staring, he asked, “Want some? It’s Ricotta.”

“No, I’m good.” I’m not a fan of cheese.

“Alright, let’s eat.” He said as he poured the plate of ground meat into the pasta as well. What’s the point of separating it if you were going to pour it into the pasta anyway?

I did the same and mixed the ground meat into the pasta so the sauce would give it some taste.

Seeing that he was already eating, I didn’t hesitate to devour the thing. I wasn’t exactly hungry, but since I was going to live with someone now, I should adjust to their schedule. The mystery meat tasted a lot like chicken but was much saltier than normal chicken. It was probably ground turkey.

“You sure eat fast, kid.”

“...” Was he trying to start a conversation or something? Okay…?

“...” I guess not.

Welp, I’m done eating, so I guess I’ll go wash the dishes—

“You can leave the dishes on the table, I’ll clean up.”

I looked at him as he continued eating.

Taking the glass of brown liquid, I chugged it down in one go. It was my first time having protein powder so I didn’t know what it was supposed to taste like. It was a bit weird. Not really sure how to describe it. It was just water and… Something. There wasn’t much of a taste.

I stacked the two empty plates and took the glass with me to the kitchen. If I was going to live somewhere, being able to take care of myself is a must. Relying on another person to pick up after me is not a good habit to develop.

Watching my actions, Trevor only stared.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” I said.

He only looked at me for a moment before saying, “If you insist.”

He had just finished his lunch too, so I took his plates and glass and entered the ‘kitchen.’

It wasn’t anything too fancy. A kitchen was a kitchen.

It wasn't too hard to find my way to the sink so I got to it.