Narrator-POV:
A depressed, overworked, and underpaid clothing store clerk watches in silence as Salazzle tears up the shelves, desperately searching for Swadloon in the chaos. Only the miracle of plot armor kept the shop's stock from total destruction, and Swole didn't have to pay too much to cover the damages.
His depression forgotten in the face of righteous fury, the clerk cast out our heroes as soon as Swole dug up Swadloon from a pile of raunchy lingerie. On this day, a curious mind was born within her mind.
Also on this day - "Hey! Move it! You're clogging the damn elevators!" - a group of visitors is taking a paid tour through the Team Galactic Headquarters, visiting the upper laboratories, where the lowliest scientists research new transportation and logistics technologies; the upper engineering bays, where grunts slave away in puddles of motor oil to construct lorries, trucks, and armored off-roaders; the company's history museum on the first floor, filled to the brim with ancient (useless) artifacts, historic paintings, and golden (replica) treasures; and the executives' suite, where a certain pair of ill-tempered ladies lives while staying in eastern Sinnoh.
"Relax, Mars." Jupiter grabs Mars by the shoulder and helps her navigate through the crowd. "Sorry about that, everyone! I hope you're all having a wonderful day here at Team Galactic Headquarters - did you know we offer amazing benefits to workers?"
A purple-haired boy, around Swole's age, mumbles an annoyed affirmation while the rest of the crowd tries to give the high-ranking ladies some space.
As fast as Jupiter can, she maneuvers through the circular hallway and enters her room, pulling Mars alongside her and slamming shut the door immediately.
Shimmering light soon encompasses the room, locking it away from the world outside while Bronzong seemingly appears out of nowhere.
"Uuuurgh!" Mars doesn't wait any further before groaning and moaning, collapsing to the couch with the back of her hand covering her eyes. "Fuck!"
Jupiter simply rolls her eyes while stripping out of her uniform. "You chose to get involved with them. This is your fault." She says the rest to herself. "A whole gaggle of teens. Yuck."
Mars rolls over, biting down on a throw pillow before screeching a muffled scream at the top of her lungs.
"That bad?"
She doesn't even hear Jupiter as she continues to vent her frustrations.
Discarding her bra as well, Jupiter - clad only in her silken panties - steps out of the room and into her kitchen. Her eyes light up in a blue shimmer, causing items to float through the kitchen. As if through magic - or rather psychic powers - an electric kettle fills with water as it hovers above the sink. Two teabags float from the cupboard overhead and join a pair of mugs on the counter.
The kettle clicks into its dock, a little lever flips, and the machine quickly heats up.
Jupiter briefly glances into the other room, where Mars still muffles her screams. "Gross. That pillow will need to be washed later."
Another click alongside violent bubbling notifies her that the water is boiling hot, and she refocuses on preparing the tea. She reads the label on the teabag before a timer across the kitchen turns itself to five minutes.
With both mug handles in her hands, she returns to the living room, where she sits on a couch, crosses her legs, folds her arms underneath her large, free breasts, and watches over her friend.
Five minutes later a noise rings from the kitchen - for just a few moments before the device turns itself off again and Jupiter finally clears her throat. "Tea?"
Mars stops screaming. She peers past the pillow at the steaming mug. "Wua -indit?"
"Cheri Berry and apple pie." Jupiter reads from the label that orients itself according to her will. "Want me to add some sugar?"
The pillow bobs alongside Mars' nod. A muffled - "Yesh." - sounds out too before a cube of sugar as well as a teaspoon depart from the kitchen drawers, soon plopping into Mars' mug.
"Thanks." She puts the pillow aside and reaches for the tea. She takes a sip... She glances at her friend, a pleading gaze on her face.
Another sugar cube arrives as Jupiter rolls her eyes. "Better?"
"Yes." Mars nods but doesn't take another sip before putting the mug away. "... I'm going to break up with him."
All of a sudden, the glass coffee table between them fractures. "What did he do?"
"Nothing." Mars returns her face into the wet softness of the pillow. "¤§¿#!...–≈%*&..."
"... What? I may be psychic, but I can't read minds. Speak without my pillow stuffed down your throat."
She spits it out and screams. "I said! ... I don't know what happened. Something possessed me, or something. I just kept talking... I... I told him the truth..."
"Yeah, no clue why you did that. They're children, Mars. They shouldn't know about that. Let them have--"
"That's not what I mean..."
"Huh? What do you mean then?"
Mars remains silent for some time, mulling over what to say. Eventually, she settles on a change of topic, knowing that Jupiter is going to understand her anyway. "... Wanna help me dispose of Mallory?"
"... Idiot." Jupiter sighs. "Sure. But those pests better not be blocking the elevator anymore. I've already used up all my niceness for today."
The pests in question have finished their tour, slowly filing out of Team Galactic Headquarters' main doors and leaving in groups, heading to their cars on the other side of the company campus. All, except one.
The purple-haired boy exits alone; he leaves alone, he does not head towards the parking lot, and his eyelid twitches as his frustrations reach a crescendo. "What a pathetic bunch of clowns."
He holds up the piece of paper that caused him his misery. A temporary work contract. The pencil pushers tried everything they could to get him to sign a permanent one, but this is the best they managed.
'Paul Shinji' is written in ballpoint ink; neat letters, perfectly aligned along the dotted line. One would think the hand that wrote this put in extra effort, but it is simply his default writing.
Neat handwriting is necessary to recognize notes on battle tactics even months later. Like the notes about his battle against Cynthia's Garchomp - even though it could barely be called a battle.
"With this," Paul stashes the contract away. "Nobody is going to stand in my way." The contract grants him exclusivity and a heads-up for certain quests in the pokemon center. "That Gliscor is as good as mine."
As if to taunt Paul, that very same Gliscor rides a gust of wind right above his head, leading his squad of Gligar as they search for fruits to steal. "Gliscor!" He screams, commanding the slowest of the squad to hurry up.
They flap their wings, catching faster currents, and glide down the mountain that the Team Galactic Headquarters is placed upon.
Their path leads them past the high-rise shopping mall of Veilstone City, near an unreasonably neatly styled public park, and past a window where our heroes can be seen stocking up on food and supplies, replacing broken tent poles, and filling up their shopping bags with medicine.
Further down the road, Gliscor and Gligar pounce on a food stall whose owner did not hear the news yet. They tear through the roof, rip apart boxes of vegetables and tomatoes, eat their fill as fast as they can, and disappear in the wind as quickly as they arrived.
Their raid happened so fast, nearby trainers barely arrived at the scene before they took off again. "A shame." A tall, lanky man wearing a green hat and a green cape strums his Mew-shaped harp. "Alas, I couldn't help you in time, good sir. But perhaps it was fate?"
"Fate, my ass!" The store owner tosses his hat on the ground, landing next to the wreckage of his food stall. "Damn these meddling Gligar!"
Perhaps if it was a different trainer, one of a higher caliber, these pokemon could have been stopped? Perhaps someone like our heroes?
Or perhaps Ash Ketchum from Pallet Town?
"Achoo!"
"Bless you."
Ash rubs his nose. "Thank you, Barry."
"It means a beautiful woman is talking about you, Ash." Brock says and begins to dream. "Oh, how I wish a beautiful woman would be talking about me! Ella or Bella, Nancy or Stacy - perhaps her name would be Olivia? Her name doesn't matter! Just that she cares and thinks about me!-- Urgh!"
Croagunk's Poison Jab swiftly takes care of his delusions.
"Croagunk!" Barry complains as he reaches for Brock's spasming hand. "Did you have to knock him out right now?! It's going to slow us down so much!" He lifts his arm over his shoulder and begins carrying him.
Barry takes a look around himself, seeing nothing but wheat surrounding them on all sides, except for the dirt road they're traveling on. "... This means we're going to have to camp outside again."
The routes connecting Solaceon Town with Veilstone City and Hearthome City are nothing but endless farmland.
Some pokemon have made this place their home, waking up from their nests in the ground surrounded by food. A paradise for some. "Hey! Check it out! A Furret!" And a paradise for Ash. "Let's have a battle, Furret!"
"Hey, don't rush off without me!" Barry complains.
And Brock voices his complaints as well, as his ride suddenly becomes bumpy. "Urrrgh."
Not far off, just past the horizon, the sounds of battle stir up a lazy girl resting in the shade. She is dressed in all-black clothing, wears dark mascara and eyeshadow, and currently sits in a little shop selling bottled Moomoo Milk.
A hex maniac. "Did you hear that?"
"Huh?!" Another girl - this one wearing a cow-print bikini top, blue denim hot pants, and cowgirl boots - startles awake. "Wuzzit?!"
"Never mind. It must have been the wind." The goth girl then rests her head in her arms as the wind picks up. A warm breeze flows through Sinnoh, bringing... perhaps hope to all? Perhaps it is a sign that things are finally turning around for our hero?
Or perhaps it is merely part and parcel of the summer - of the 7th of July. Birds swoop, flowers bloom, bees zoom - Taillow, Gloom, and Combee - and not a spot of gloom on this tranquil afternoon... except for the Gloom, of course.
Either way, Swole Solo of Twinleaf Town is as ready as he can be for yet another amazing day in the world of pokemon! Filled with glorious battle! Filled with unbelievable adventures! Filled with-- "Arceus, damn it. Seriously? The gym leader is away right now?"
Filled with tedious roadblocks wherever one looks.
"You know what? Fuck it. We're just going to schedule a regular battle and just focus on our training instead."
Swole Solo slides open the doors leading into the dojo-themed gym. At a first glance he mistakes the building for a regular gym. Sweaty men grunt and sweat as they press against weights, lift weights, and pull weights while pearls of sweat drip down their bodies.
But on a second glance, it's clearly a pokemon gym. Meditite, Machoke, Tyrogue, and Combusken are all sweating alongside them. And it's not just inside the building. Out the back, past an open sliding door, is even more gym equipment - the type for gaining muscles - and even more sweating men, women, and pokemon.
But one woman is missing. Maylene. Alongside Candice, she has been selected to be the gym leader of their respective home cities this year.
Despite the sign outside the gym telling Swole so, he still looks around, searching for the woman's signature pink hair. "Can I help you, sir?" Next to the entrance is a counter where people can sign up for training. The woman working there saw the lost man and caught his attention.
He approaches the desk, taking in the items on display. A cash register, a stack of paper forms for gym memberships, alongside a pen that is chained to the desk, and a rack of powdered protein shakes, ready to be turned into fuel by the most sweaty sweats imaginable.
"Hmmm..." Swole hums as he considers signing up. Then he meets the blonde's hazel-brown eyes. "Hello, madam, I'd like to sign up for a gym battle, but I saw that Maylene is currently unavailable. Do you know when she'll return?"
The woman - Hazel, says her name tag - barely keeps herself from rolling her eyes. "She didn't mention when she wanted to return. It was a snap decision of hers to leave for Mount Coronet to train. But either way, you can sign up to battle against our apprentices too."
Hazel points a pink-painted fingernail at the stack of papers. "The membership forms also serve as challenger forms. Here at Veilstone City gym, we're offering only the best training, trainers, and equipment to all our customers. We pride ourselves on the motto: If you can't beat us, you'll have to join us."
"Seriously?" Swole raises an eyebrow.
"Yes. See the fine print? Challengers are paying a monthly membership fee until either the year ends or they win their challenge. You just have to sign right there and here to confirm that you have read the contract and did not sign it under duress or false pretenses."
He accepts the ballpoint pen that is nearly pushed into his hand. "That sounds like a scam." And she gently yet firmly guides his hand towards the dotted line until Swole's arm locks up and refuses to budge at all. "I'd like a moment to read through it."
"Of course, of course. Please take a seat over there." She lets go before pointing at a tiny lounge with a minuscule coffee table nearby. "I'll await your signature. Longingly." She winks.
Swole just chuckles but otherwise ignores the obvious ploy to lighten his wallet. He takes a seat and grumbles quiet complaints about the least professional gym he has ever seen. The table is so small, the contract does not even fit on it.
He pops open Lopunny's and Lucario's pokeballs. The spectacle is already over - nay, it has never even begun. His pokemon look around for a few moments before taking guard behind him.
Our hero's disappointment continues to grow as he reads through the contract's fine print. "The whole thing is just a scam. What the fuck?"
"Lopunny?" She asks.
"Well, nothing is the matter. The monthly fees are relatively cheap. Just a regular gym membership price. And we're going to win, so it doesn't even apply to us. It's just... disappointing. I expected more from Veilstone City."
"Lucario?"
"Haha, no. I did not expect to pay more for the gym membership. I expected more professionalism. But I guess I just got too used to the star treatment that I got everywhere else."
He fills the forms, signs the contract, and returns to Hazel. Her hazel-brown eyes glint with some level of malice as she takes back the papers, glancing over the signatures, and putting them into a slot below the counter-- She quickly takes a second glance just before it went out of sight only to hiss and curse under her breath.
"Well," She barely meets Swole's eyes, almost as if she fucked something up and now pretends it never happened. "I can quickly schedule your battle for Monday. Since it will be a battle for your fifth badge, you'll fight against an intermediate apprentice with five pokemon on their team against five on your team. Please come prepared."
"Of course." Swole nods, nearly turning to leave. "Actually, one last thing: do you have the nutritional labels for the protein powder?"
"Sure." She takes a pack from the rack and hands it over. "They're all the same with different flavorings."
Doing some quick maths, he checks how well the macros fit into his team's regular diet. Finally, he just decides to ignore it and resolves to make everyone work extra hard to work the extra calories off.
"Can I get the hazelnut-flavored one?"
Hazel, last name 'Nutt', bats her eyelashes. "You want me?"
"No. That. As well as fig and blueberry."
"Alright, alright. That'll be 44,97₽."
Swole pays with his card and stashes the powders into his bag. He then looks at the sweaty people again, working on nice and shiny gym gear. Some pokemon can lift tremendous weights, so the equipment has been specially made to handle much higher loads than human-only gyms.
He understands he will not get this opportunity anywhere else, but what if people spy on him for information?
"Let them spy." He says. "We can do the experimental training in private, but let's take advantage of these weights. Alright, girls?"
None of his pokemon sound very enthusiastic as they give their agreements.
---
Swole-POV:
We exit the gym's crowded changing room, my face burning in shame.
Why do I always listen to their whims? What's wrong with me? This is really bad. We're garnering attention from half the gym.
Back then, when we were shopping... ~"But master, if we're supposed to train, wouldn't it make sense to have training clothing?" That was what Lopunny had argued.
~"Hm. Hm. It just makes a lot of sense." Lucario had followed up.
Salazzle's excuses had been too flimsy to remember. She just wanted to dress to attract mates, making it especially clear that she meant me.
I should have known the others had ulterior motives as well, but I just didn't realize it until now.
And now... it's too late. Lopunny and Lucario are flanking me as we head out of the dressing room. They're wearing POQEMON-branded cropped yoga pants and sports bras. For no reason other than to look sexy.
Swadloon is in her pokeball since none of the training gear works without limbs. Banette should be somewhere. And Salazzle is completely naked... I mean, she's not wearing any sexy gym clothes! She curses about messing up her diplomacy checks, but I try to ignore her.
Just like I try to ignore the staring faces, some raised eyebrows, Hazel's awkward wave, and my loudly beating heart.
~"Are you alright, Daddy?" Lucario pulls at my arm.
Lopunny pulls on the other, pressing it against her body and shooting Lucario a glare. ~"You seem tense, master."
~"Uh oh. Looksss like he'ss about to have a little accident." Salazzle hisses from my shoulders, and I try my hardest not to draw any more attention by doing something stupid like covering up my crotch.
I should have gotten baggy clothes. But nooo, I had to listen to Dawn's expert opinion and buy the skintight... thing! What even is that!? Why does it basically show everything!?! Well, because it's skintight. The why is obvious.
Hoping to sweet baby Mew and Lord Arceus it doesn't get any worse, I approach the bench press benches. One bloke's spotter briefly nods at me to acknowledge my existence before resuming his focus on his training partner.
They're lifting 50kg plus 20kg plates on each side. The bar is another 10kg - so a total of 150kg (around 300lbs in some regions). Mighty impressive. I think. I don't know. Is that good?
I should start with that amount and see how it feels. Worst case, Lopunny is there to spot me. "Right, Lopunny?"
~"What?" She'll do nicely.
I grab some plates, put them on the bar, and guide Lopunny into position. "If you see me fail, start helping me out, alright?"
She nods slowly.
"... Just make sure I don't die."
Lying on my back, I get into position... Gulp. Good grief, what a view.
The yoga pants dig deep into her fur, and the fluffy brown around her stomach looks softer than it ever has before. It looks as if digging my hands through there would feel heavenly. Her top showcases her small breasts. Usually, they just blend in, hidden underneath a layer of fur, but with the sports bra, that layer is pressed down and the curves of her body become more pronounced.
~"Da-- Master?" Lucario watches from the sidelines, waiting for something to happen.
I take a deep breath, pray to Arceus to make my boner go down, and grip the metal bar in front of me - thumbs on the opposite side of the fingers, like the other guys are doing.
Pushing with a bit of strength, I lift the weight out of its rack.
Bending my arms at my elbows and pushing them out, I keep up the strain on my muscles so it doesn't crash down. Eventually, the weight rests just above my chest. I take a short breath through the nose before pushing it up.
150kg are... surprisingly easy.
~"That's it?" Lopunny comments. ~"We're pausing our regular training for this?"
~"It doesn't seem very impressive."
Salazzle climbs onto my stomach. ~"It ssseemsss too eassy, doesssn't it?"
Lopunny smirks. ~"You're right!" Turning around, she plants her butt down on the bar, right between my hands.
My eyes widen and arms lock up as the weight suddenly increases. Her latest weigh-in was a little over 70kg.
Then another lurch as Salazzle climbs on top. 44kg.
Lopunny shifts her weight on the bar, and I nearly roll off the bench, my legs working overtime to keep me steady. She ends up sitting directly on my fingers; a very thin layer of clothes is all that separates me from her heat.
Another weight settles on top of my other hand. Lucario, weighing in at nearly 90kg because of her steel type, almost brings my left arm to buckle under the weight.
The bar presses against my chest, and it's getting harder to breathe. Sweat streams down my face as Lopunny's and Lucario's thighs brush against my cheeks, and Salazzle's half-lidded eyes peer deep into mine. She grins, finding joy in this terrible torture.
I clench my jaws and press with all my might against the bar.
~"You can do it, massster." Salazzle might be the only one realizing that I'M ABOUT TO FUCKING DIE! But she's too much into it to care right now!!
My muscles lock up, and I take deep, fast breaths before pushing further. Halfway through, my arms begin to tremble. More rapid breaths. Pumping carbon dioxide from my lungs. Darkness creeps in from the edges of my sight, but I puuush!
~"Good job, master! You did it!" Lopunny hops off, but the sudden shift in weight is too much.
My body slackens, and I roll over the edge of the bench; the weight falls and-- ... and suddenly stops moving. Salazzle hisses in pain, scurrying off while Lucario hovers in place, eyes closed, head dongles floating, and face scrunched up in concentration.
Quickly, I scramble back in place to push the weight into its slot in the rack. The moment Lucario stops concentrating, the entire mass slams into the setup and threatens to break apart with my head right underneath it.
I flee just in case, pull Lucario off, and give her, Lopunny, and Salazzle each the sternest glare I can muster. "You!-- Huff, huff!"
I can't speak. My lungs are burning, and my arms - holy shit - my arms hurt so much! I sit down on the bench...
A rough pat on my back snaps me out of my misery. The other lifter and his spotter have approached. "That was a gnarly lift, my dude." The spotter says, his dreadlocks suddenly standing out. "Man, you must've put my P B to shame with that one."
His what? His peanut butter? "Huff. Thanks."
The lifter inspects my pokemon before speaking up. "How much weight was it in total? Your pokemon all look human-sized. 300kg?"
"Around. Huff. Huff. 350kg."
A Machoke approaches, and his trainer is directly behind him, whistling. "That's impressive! I think Bruno is the only one who can beat that!"
"Easily! He's lifting tons."
More and more people notice the gathering and surround us, sometimes greeting me with a brofist while my breathing slowly returns to normal.
"There are many guys who lift more than this." A female trainer says while drool drips down the corners of her lips. "I saw them in the lifter's weekly magazine."
"I bet this guy could beat Bruno with some training and proper form."
"No way. Bruno's like the strongest man in the world."
"Yes way." Another guy says. "He was wasting so much power! I bet he could add another 50 with the right form!"
"Ma! Machoke!"
"Hey, isn't that the new pokemon trainer everyone's talking about?"
"Who?"
"Bole Sodo, or something dumb like that."
Bole Sodo... "Hey! The name's Swole Solo!" At least don't make up names if you don't know, asshole! "And I appreciate the applause, but I'd really rather just train with my pokemon right now."
"But what about your form!"
"You could get the world record!"
"Can I get an autograph for my little brother?"
"Ma! Machoke!"
A shrill sound stops the sweaty men, one woman, and Machoke in their tracks. Hazel comes to the rescue with her fingers inside her mouth - she whistles loudly once more, sending the noise all around the dojo. "Guys! Give the boy some space!"
"Boy?" Some person's hushed whisper sneaks through the crowd.
"He's just 14, didn't you know?"
"Holy shit. He's actually just a little, snotty boy."
I roll my eyes.
"No more ogling, everybody! All our customers have the right to train unmolested. Please return to your own training!"
After some more complaints and more of Hazel's harsh words and threats of consequences, the crowd disperses. Some are still muttering about my form, while others comment about Miss Nutt's voice being erotic whenever she's angry.
"I heard that! Another comment like that and you're banned for a month! And that goes for you too, Miyagi-sensei!"
An ancient old man is the only one left after the crowd returned to their training. He ignores Hazel's demands, looking up and down my body - just after looking up and down Hazel's body.
He has a wrinkly head with long, gray hair and a beard, but a pink streak going down the middle. "Your form really was terrible." He says with a disappointed frown.
Slowly, awfully slowly, he approaches the bench with quivering limbs. His lips move as if to speak, and suddenly a rusty pokeball strapped to his black belt pops open, and a little piece of red pokeball-shell flakes off.
Right beside Miyagi-sensei, Poliwrath appears.
He then turns to my pokemon. "Lucario, would you be so kind and handle the Mist for us?"
Mist?
Mist blasts forth from the center of Poliwrath's whirly pattern; the fog quickly expands and blankets us in a thick, white, cream-- haze. Visibility quickly drops to a few centimeters at most - but Lucario's eyes shine through the dense curtain.
She pushes the fog away, revealing just the bench, Miyagi-sensei, and us in the center with a white dome around us, shielding us from view.
He puts himself underneath the weights. "Put your hands like this." He says. "Your shoulders go right here. Arch your back and press your feet firmly against the ground. Keep your core muscles active. And--"
He removes the 150kg weight from the rack. "Slowly, keep up the pressure, but let it drop. Never allow your muscles to disengage." The bar barely brushes his chest before smoothly moving up again. "It's all about control. Keep up the tension in all your muscles."
He repeats the motion, lowering and lifting the weight two, three, four, and five times. He lets out a deep breath before quickly taking in air again. "If your arms start to fail, your spotter will need to watch out for you."
Poliwrath moves into position as the spotter. He stands firm with splayed legs, hands hovering underneath the bar.
"Exhaustion is no reason to surrender." Six. "If you want to train your body, you need to go beyond exhaustion." Seven. "Your body, mind, and soul can only harden in the fires of battle." Eight. His arms lock out at the top of his lift.
He quickly takes a few deep breaths and continues. "You need to feel the burn!" Nine. "Feel the pain!" Ten. "Go beyond your limits!" Eleven. "Fight against your weakness!" Twelve. "Never surrender!" Thirteen-- at the top of his push, the weight suddenly drops.
His arms fall slack, his eyes roll to the back of his skull, and the weight crashes down before Poliwrath catches it with ease.
His body deflates. Hands slip from the bar, his chest sinks as if letting out a huge breath of air, and his fingers slap against the ground before seizing and trembling.
"Mr. Miyagi?"
His eyes close, and his breathing crawls to a stop. His chest lightly rises and falls with calm, regular breaths. His jitters end.
Poliwrath places the weights back into the rack and catches Mr. Miyagi before he can roll off the edge of the bench.
"Mr. Miyagi?! Did you just die?!"
"What?!" Hazel's voice echoes from beyond the misty veil. "Did I hear that right?! Let me in!"
"It's Miyagi-sensei for you, brat." His voice sounds out between panting breaths while his eyes flutter open. His limp body hangs within Poliwrath's arms. "I may be 90 years old, but I'm not dying from a little bit of training."
He nearly died... That would explain the Mist screen. He didn't want others to see how he nearly died while showcasing the proper form.
"No, brat." - Did I think out loud again? - "Have you ever seen a 90-year-old bench press 150kg? Or 300lbs if you don't know what a kilogram is."
Interesting. He has the same verbal tic as me: explaining concepts that a foreigner might not understand even though only an idiot wouldn't know that a kilogram is pretty much two pounds.
"The hooligans outside would have been all over us again if they saw me do this."
"Aha. Sorry, I haven't really seen many people lift weights before. It never interested me all that much." All my lifting knowledge is from books or from experimentation, and I've only started to train because being in the wilderness made me realize how helpful fitness is.
"Brat." He rolls his eyes before climbing out of Poliwrath's hold to cross his arms and stand on his own again. "Now you. Lay your back on the bench and start lifting."
"Actually, I wanted Lopunny, Salazzle, and Lucario to go next."
"Brat. Are you serious? No, brat."
'Brat' is now officially worse than 'boy'. Miyagi is quickly working himself up my shitlist. "My name is Swole."
"Brat."
Salazzle hisses in laughter.
"Salazzle and Lucario don't have warrior hearts. This training will be wasted on them."
Her laughter quickly shuts up, and she hisses an aggressive insult against the old man. Lucario, too, growls an insult, that has been veiled nehind flowery language.
"Apologies. Wrong choice of words. They have a warrior's spirit, but they're not fighters. My old eyes can tell."
The insults don't stop. "You mean they aren't physical attackers."
"Exactly! That's what I meant. Only Lopunny and you will truly benefit from this."
Hmmm... but what about Lucario? She knows too many physical moves to neglect her physique. I'll train her once the old man isn't looking anymore.
"Alright. Then Lopunny, get ready on the bench."
~"Yes, master!"
She hops under the bar, her ears flopping to the ground. She grabs it like Mr. Miyagi showed and... and pushes the bar up and down as if it were nothing.
"Do you see now why this won't work, brat?"
"Alright, Lopunny. Give it a rest. We're adding more weight."
50kg plates extra on each side... Still too easy. Fifteen repetitions, and she's not even sweating.
Two more plates and--
"Hold on, brat. Can you even spot this?"
"Spot... Yeah? It's right there."
"Brat." The old man fell for the bait. "Try holding the weight."
I get into position above Lopunny. She peers past the bar, holding my eyes in her gaze as I grab it. Lifting with all my might... it doesn't budge. Trying again, with better footing and more focus... I can't lift it from the rack.
Strange. It's just around 50kg more than what I ended up benching earlier. Was it adrenaline? Did my pokemon lose weight? That would be terrible! It would mean they've lost muscle mass somehow! Or maybe it's just some weird Aura interaction?
Anyway, I'm sure with Lucario's help, we can serve as Lopunny's spotter. "Let's try it. Can you help me out, Lucario?"
Together with her psychic help, we get the weight into the air, where we hold it for a while to make sure it won't slip before returning it into the rack.
"Phew." I wipe some sweat off my forehead. "That'll do."
"That won't do, brat." Poliwrath nods along to Miyagi-sensei's words. "Pokemon don't trust each other like they trust their trainers. You're asking Lopunny to train until she passes out with you and Lucario as the only safety net to prevent her from suffocating under 350kg of weight."
Lopunny rolls her eyes and winks. ~"I won't pass out. I'm stronger than that."
"Don't get cocky, Lopunny. You might pass out - it's a risk." I brush over her fingers as she readies herself to bench the weight. "But don't worry about a thing. We're a team. Give it your all and don't hold back, understand?"
Her fingers clench within my gentle grasp. She sends me a smirk, and I let her go. She presses her ears against the ground for better balance, braces her legs, and arches her back.
Her breath hitches; metal groans as the weight shifts. Muscles coil underneath her fur, shifting in tune with the strain.
Slower than before, the mass lowers, brushing her chest. The outsides of her arms - her triceps - bulge under pressure. She gasps, quickly swallowing a breath of air before pushing with all her might.
Just before locking out her arms, she releases some pressure, and the bar descends again.
"Good form. Keep it up."
She concentrates. She can't voice a response or even a nod, but I can feel the impact of my words. Confidence grows and eagerness blossoms in her heart.
The weight touches down on her breasts again, squishing them slightly before ascending once more. Another gasp of air fills her lungs with oxygen. As she reaches the top of her push, she drives out the carbon dioxide with a sharp exhale before refuels with another gasp.
Quick, short breaths. Sweat seeps through her fur, matting and clumping the strands around her face and arms.
Down.
Her muscles bulge, and her arms tremble as she presses the weight into the air once more.
"Three." Three times 350kg. "That's amazing. Keep going."
She keeps going. Lowering the weight, snapping for air, pushing, and trembling. This push was slower than before. Her eyes scrunch up, fluttering open to seek out mine.
On the fifth descent, I hover my hands underneath the bar. She glares at my fingers before pushing the weight up a little faster.
"I know you can do more."
Her stare softens, her focus returns to the task. She takes two more breaths before starting the sixth repetition. Down and up with trembling arms and bulging muscles hidden underneath slick, sweaty fur.
She locks out her arms and takes deep breaths. Her eyes drift in their sockets, black sclera showing as she slowly, sluggishly searches for mine again.
"You can do it."
A spark of determination regrows in her listless face. A hint of a smile, a deep yearning to push herself to the limit - she loves it. It's like a battle; her enemy - the weight.
She bends her elbows, releasing the tension from her sinew, and the weight briefly slams down before her muscles catch up, stopping the crushing mass before it could even brush my fingers.
Again, the bar lowers all the way down to her chest, this time sinking much deeper into her breasts. Sharp breaths exchange air as fast as she can - the weight begins its ascent.
Slowly. Arms trembling. Gritted teeth. Inch by inch, always threatening to sag, she pushes herself beyond her limits - and the weight to the top.
The next moment, her muscles give out. Her arms slacken, the arch in her back releases, her feet slip, and her ears go limp.
The weight crashes down into my waiting hands. And it continues as if I wasn't even there, pulling my whole body with it. With every ounce of strength flooding into my hands, arms, legs, back, core, and every part of me - my body locks up under tension.
A brief grunting scream rips through the dojo when the air in my lungs expels all at once under pressure.
There's no way I can hold the weight for long, so I yank it back, hoping to Arceus the bar is at the right height to slip into any slot within the rack. With a loud clank, the rack rattles and groans.
With a loud thud, I fall on my ass. My muscles slacken all at once, and the most precious breath of air ever hisses past my teeth, filling my starving lungs with oxygen.
Phew... I... I did it. On... my... own... Lucario... didn't help. "Lucario?! Huff! Huff! What the hell, - Huff! - where was your help?!"
~"You looked like you were doing okay." She just shrugs.
Unbelievable.
Miyagi-sensei laughs out loud; a hearty, slow laughter, like one would expect from such an ancient old man. "Ha! Ha! Ha! I told you, you can't trust pokemon to care for each other. That's your job as the trainer, and you did a darn good job!"
"Thanks... But it's strange. It felt impossible to hold earlier, but when it slammed into my hands, it suddenly wasn't quite as heavy."
"That's because of your fighter's heart. You and your Lopunny are quite similar in that manner." He strokes the long, thin beard growing from his chin - all-gray except for a few pink strands. "Have you considered becoming a Fighting monotype trainer? You have the right heart for it, and with Lopunny and Lucario, it's two out of six team members. Focusing on a single type will often lead to immense improvements."
"No shot." I say, and he tilts his head at the foreign-sounding expression. "I won't abandon my other pokemon. Besides, Lopunny is not even a fighting type. She's a Normal type."
"Truly?" Miyagi-sensei asks, genuine surprise audible in his voice as he watches her and strokes his beard. "Could have fooled me."
She's lying on the bench, slowly fluttering her eyes open as consciousness returns. Then, they snap wide open, she sits up immediately, and turns her head left and right before rubbing her eyes and straightening her ears.
"Well, Lopunny is simply the best - even without the fighting type."
She stops in the middle of her grooming - hands still pressing down on the slick fur of her ears, trying to flatten the wet strands evenly in the same direction. Her eyes find mine, and a smirk grows on her face, matching the one on my lips.
"And the best needs the best training. Ready for the next set, Lopunny?"
She nods with an eagerness in her eyes that I haven't seen in a while. Last time... must've been when we brawled against each other. It's been a while.
Ever since she evolved.
It's high time for us to do it again.
But first, more regular training.
To allow her a little bit of a break, I prepare her a milkshake with some of the Moomoo Milk that Lucario still drinks on occasion, some caramel syrup, and the hazelnut-flavored protein powder.
She fiddles around with the wet fabric of her unnecessarily sexy POQEMON sports bra, then guzzles down my milk within a few blinks while I adjust her weight for the next set, taking off the 20kg plates. A few drops spill and fall down her cleavage.
At the same time, I mentally map out the rest of the day. I'll train Lopunny until she can't move a muscle. Then I'll train Lucario until she can't move a muscle--
"Well, you seem to have everything covered now, brat." While Miyagi-sensei talks, Mist expires, exposing us to the rest of the gym. "I'll leave you to it, and don't worry about the other people." He speaks up. "After all! I'll kick out any gym rats personally if you bother other customers!"
The people who started staring as soon as the Mist veil was lifted immediately refocus on their training.
"Hazel, make sure to tell me of any transgressions!"
She had already returned to the other side of her counter. From there, she gives him a mock salute. "Will do, sensei!" Then goes back to filing her nails.
Lopunny begins her next set, and I finally lose my train of thought. I know I was planning the day - to train Lopunny and Lucario until their muscles gave out, but after that? ...
"Give it your all, again, Lopunny. Focus on your form."
I'll just think of that when the time comes.