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Our main character, the Celtic Fire.
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His name was, or more given to him, Celtic Fire. Earned for his rather fiery and emotional personality, he was the type of man who would love you like a son one second, then beating this shit out of the person who insulted you the next. He was, however at this moment, finishing up his workout. Keeping mostly to himself, the other guys respected his alone time. It was an
odd thing with men and the gym. If you put forth effort, no matter what
shape or size, they would respect you for it. If you came back and
stayed hungry, you would earn even more of their respect. If you paid your dues, and
did what had to be done, this was your place. It would be your second home. Nothing was given freely
here, everything had to be earned. It was hard but there was respect, and honestly no one here would have it any other way.
"Uggggghh fuck me" he mockingly said to himself.
While the work out was amazing, not to mention absolutely amazing for killing stress, the intense part was working on his body hard. He, like any other guy, would curse, bitch and complain to himself, but he would keep going. The pain didn't matter, it was just weakness leaving the body. Celtic was always hungry for a better looking
body, and he would not stop till he got it. For too long, he was the
little shit, the little guy, the guy who could stand up to no one.
Now that he was on his own, he would no longer tolerate being so weak, or so helpless. So, while allowing his heavily tattooed body some air, he was blasting
chest and arms pretty hard. Sure, boxing was enjoyable, especially with
this annoying guy always running his mouth and looking for a fight with him, it wasn’t the only way to
build muscle.
Just... the more fun way of doing it.
Grunting under his breath, and trying not to show pain,
his body became drenched in sweat. He had to dig deep and focus hard to
finish this fifth and final rep on the bench. It was a new record for
him after all, two hundred and twenty pounds. His arms strained under
the weight and his chest heaved fast. His chest hair (at least what he
had) was soaked and his head hair was even worse. But he would not let this
beat him, he would rise up, man up! With a final push, the set was done.
He had done it. Clicking the bar into place he sat up to catch his
breath. While working out had proven positive effects on the male
persona, not to mention the increase testosterone had him feeling great,
the smell that came with it sucked serious man balls. No lady enjoyed
the smell, and even men would tolerate it for so long. So after
cleaning off the equipment, he made a straight line for the locker room.
The day was done and he needed a shower bad… like real bad.
After
a rather lengthy shower, that was always set to “Bitch what’s with you
getting fucked by Satan” hot water, and trim, he made his way back to his locker, wrapped tightly in his
towel. While it was perfectly acceptable for men to wear little or
nothing while in the locker room, Celtic wasn’t quite up to that level
of showing off or fun and fancy free. Maybe after dropping some weight
and putting on a couple pounds of muscle?
Maybe.
After changing into his fresh clothing, he turned to leave, but not before accidentally bumping into someone…
“Excuse me bro didn’t –“
