Chapter 44
Goddess of the gym
November 10
Hero Gym Club is a training and exercise center for fitness enthusiasts. Every day, hundreds of people fascinated by piles of black iron come to apply for membership. Today, to celebrate the family reunion, the owner of Hero Gym Club personally confirms the members.
From morning till evening, serious young men, flashy-haired teens, immature cocky boys jostled alongside boy-crazy fangirls (mostly to ogle the male idol, ask for autographs, and take photos), all crammed into messy lines waiting to register.
Those who officially become members are more excited than picking up gold. They thank with joy, shout, and run out to show off to the others who have been waiting so long their necks grow long. They all happily take selfies in front of the green building — bigger than the city theater, built in the modern polygonal fort style.
A bunch of people wait with tired legs, stiff necks, jealous mutterings, and curses. The lucky ones are so excited, they put arms around each other's shoulders and enter the gym, wowed by the spacious and airy space. The glittering ceiling lights shine down on hundreds of the world's most modern new machines.
They disperse in groups, touching the equipment like caressing their lovers. Static objects can't compare to moving people. Around the gym floor stands a team of tall, burly bodyguards, muscles bulging and strong like Dharma Protectors. A few fish that differ from their own kind break off to train privately together.
The bodyguards and old members of the gym rumble through their exercises. One contracts, stretches, and works the pedal machine. One uses all his muscle strength to lift a super-heavy barbell that usually requires four people. One pulls and pushes the Peck Deck Machine to train chest muscles and boost biceps power.
All bare their chests, showing off their bodies to seduce ovulating girls. Even men admire fitness more than worship gods. They are highly excited, eyes bulging and brighter than car headlights, watching Zero display his hyper-accurate body shirtless — when he flexes, each muscle competes for supremacy on his toned, smooth, sweat-glazed body with skin as white as a teenage girl's.
One bodyguard sits on a bench, practicing single-weight lifts — bracelets 99%, bangles and rings 99.9%, necklaces 99.99% karat — all competing to dance the golden dance in glittering yellow light.
After half an hour of training, Zero pulls a towel from the rack and wipes his sweat. The crowd assumes he's done showing off his wealth more than actually working out, but the snob, in their eyes, climbs onto the Abdominal Bench chair with indifference.
Everyone stares at Zero with round eyes and flat eyes as he folds his belly hundreds of times without pausing for even half a second. The piles of gold hanging and dangling from his body dance around, dazzling the crowd who have no assets to flaunt to the world.
Bodyguards and old and new members — men and women alike — throw itchy eyes at Zero. He ignores them and trains diligently. Sometimes he adjusts and corrects, corrects again, squeezes, squeezes and straightens to make the pile of gold less tangled, falling into the contempt of the reluctant audience, because his deliberately extravagant gestures are even more vulgar than the first time.
The habit of life is to be drawn to what you resent. Only when the gym goddess appears does everyone turn their eyes away from the snob. Whether bodyguard, old member, or new member — all glue their eyes to the blonde girl's body.
Fangirls admire her curves to the point of envying every millimeter. Men lick their lips, swallow their saliva, and stare, eyes shining at the oversized bust — full of life, bouncing with every step. After a long gaze, they shift to the full curve of her buttocks, undulating in tight clothes over her hot body.
She doesn't care or greet anyone. She agrees to autographs or selfies if asked, then indifferently trains alone. Every time the goddess stretches and slides down the abdominal roller, her whole body radiates a burning heat that scorches the eyes of lustful men.
When she bends backward, a group of chronically thirsty men immediately turn their lustful eyes and sneak glances at the fiery "center" of her hip circumference — the place that makes men so thirsty their throats burn and minds blur, willing to be lost in that mysterious maze for a lifetime.
Fangirls have been praising the goddess a minute ago, but now have shown contempt on their faces, jealous as their boyfriends crave "seafood" to the point of drooling, so they have swung their arms and legs to drag their lovers out of Hero Gym Club. A bunch of crazy lusts try to twist their necks back to shine their eyes on the goddess, who bends her hips, twists her waist, spreads her legs, and bows her body to the ground. She sits on the Hack Squat Machine to train her outer thighs.
This time, a group of goats with half-closed eyes shine on her breasts — full and provocative from every angle. The undulating and elastic breasts are squeezing the air with every breath. A group of lustful people put women on their heads and forget to breathe. Many people hope that the goddess will stop torturing them from a distance immediately.
She continues practicing everything she likes, switching to the Abductor Machine to train the inner and outer thighs. The wonderful maze opens and closes, closes and opens again, causing the blood pressure of the audience admiring the masterpiece to rise.
The clothes make the forbidden area narrow, tightening into the looming three-way intersection in the corners of the red eyes stripes. That fleeting triangle appears and disappears faster than thought, suppressing desire so intensely that a bunch of men feel like going mad, their lower bodies violently stirring. Goat blood rushes to their brains, almost spraying out of their noses.
The goddess wipes the wet sweat on the white and pink moon, and she brushes her golden hair back to avoid tangling with her eyes. The gesture is completely normal, but the gang of macho men freeze for a few seconds. After a few minutes, the monsters become obsessed, admiring the beautiful girl lying on the bench doing dumbbell reps. Zero helps place the long dumbbells into her hands. She thanks him and trains enthusiastically.
After her physical strength increases by more than half, the goddess asks Zero to store the long dumbbells in the designated spot. She mounts her phone on the treadmill's control panel and opens online articles about the reunion event. The girl runs while waving her arms up and down, as the screen slowly scrolls through images of the ceremony.
Reunion nights created a huge resonance around the world, opportunists vied for business handshakes, went out together for the night[1], and contractual agreements were signed publicly and secretly at the reunion ceremony.
Whether sincere or not, attending the ceremony for personal reasons or just to share in the joy, everyone and every family was happy to congratulate the media tycoon's family on their happy ending. However, no one had expected the idyllic, colorful night, warm outside but cold inside, to be exciting and dramatic until the last moment.
On average, out of ten people who have discussed enthusiastically, eight people have 'cut' into the bitter fruit during the dramatized night that the fashion family has had to swallow. The ninth person has stabbed this side and poked the other side to push the story far away from reality. The rest of the people have liked to enjoy the realistic movie without theatricality and without cutting or grafting.
The crowd that has gnawed other people's lives has not dared to put letters into mouths. Everything, every story, every sentence has been accurate to every centimeter. Honest to the point of boredom has received hundreds of praises and tens of thousands of lamentations and derogations, such as:
It has been drier than tiles, I can't swallow it.
What the hell has been honest, it has just been monkey tricks.
A few scattered pictures, the article has been bland and boring, don't want to read it.
He has refused to go to school when he was young and has become a journalist when he has grown up.
I have wanted to read flying butterflies writing, which has been full of excitement like a football commentator blowing the wind into a storm, rather than iodine-deficient articles to the point of goiter!
Damn, already has said it right and has said it louder.
It has been so reasonable up to the level splatter cage, indisputable.
Saint has commented, whatever the saint has wanted to eat, I have offered it to you!
The saint has sat upright and has received my prostrate.
Countless comments flash across the smartphone screen. The goddess realizes that it is almost time to pick up her niece from school, so she flicks her finger to turn off the smartphone, presses a button to stop the fitness machine, puts the smartphone in her pocket, and leaves the gym. The lewds crane their necks to watch her disappear before they dare to say vulgar words:
- Cherry lady boss delicious meat, sweet water to the extent soul-stirring!
- Wow, I'm stiff from head to toe, the stiffest part is "little brother", you guys!
- The boss is beautiful and slutty, showing off her fertile body, nourishing the eyes, delicious, which guy's father stands it! – He holds his crotch and runs to the toilet – Damn, I want to flood discharge, it's blocked abandon mother[2]!
They all laugh obscenely. A medium-built man with a body thick like a pillar, broad bulging shoulders and meaty arms, his muscles swelling into ridges and veins twisting across his solid frame.
He buzz cuts and swipes shiny hairspray in the middle. He has a lion nose, small ears, and a long face, with rough black bumps nodding on his rugged cheekbones.
The corners of the eyes are small and round, extending to the thick, slanted, arched black eyebrows, the black pupils overwhelming the white eyeballs, creating coldness and indifference to the other party. The guy purses his thick lips and pointed beak, laughs lewdly:
- Hope to bite a peach right up to the root of my teeth, guys.
Notes
[1] This means tacit understanding, or cooperation in doing something secret.
[2] This is a Vietnamese folk slang, and also expresses the fear of bad consequences.