Coming in from the second floor main area, Fulther
removed his top and threw it across towards a bench. He immediately headed for a treadmill to get his cardio workout started.
bounced up behind Fulther, he noticed the action and decided to mimic it--after all, Fulther had apparently spent more time here, so perhaps it was the custom? So he pulled his stained gray tee over his head--getting it tangled in his arms for a second and struggling a bit before completely removing it--and headed for a treadmill, like Fulther did.
gradually pumped the pace up on his machine until he was at a solid run. He focussed on his breathing, controlling it so that he could maintain the pace for as long as possible. He glanced over to see Harkin had also removed his shirt. He smiled at the thought that the other Special was following his lead.
Without his shirt, Harkin
looked entirely too pale, too thin, and too fragile. As such, the sight of him on the treadmill was somewhat...strange. With every breath his ribcage seemed more prominent and as he worked up the pace to a run--glancing over at Fulther's machine to make sure he was doing it right--instead of muscles flexing underneath the skin, one could see bones and joints moving far too clearly.
"You need fattening up, hombre," Fulther said between breathes. His skin was starting to take on the sheen that came with perspiration. He was now running at 9 kph, a half decent pace, but he decided to kick it up another notch to 10, his legs and arms pumping, his thick muscles starting to bunch beneath his skin.
"I do? How do I do that?" Normally, being told to "fatten up" means to most people "eat more fattening foods", but since Harkin was unsure of the actual connection between people's health and the quality of their food, the insipid male had no clue how to go about doing what Fulther said. Even more so since he eats so much of nearly everything, anyways. To his credit though, despite his apparent infirmity Harkin managed to keep a similar pace to Fulther with no shortness of breath.
"Sugar. Saturated. Fats. Protein. Carbs." Fulther pushed each word out with each expulsion from his lungs. The sweat on his forehead was slicking the front of his hair to his skin and he gave an unconscious flick of his head to remove its annoying presence. Being a heftier man gave him the disadvantage of making the cardio a harder workout, but he still had plenty of miles of running in him.
"Sugar...Like dessert? I need to eat more dessert?" Harkin asked as he continued a steady pace. Already he was adjusting his planned menu of seconds to include more sweets and pastries.
"Hell yeah." Fulther touched the STOP button and the treadmill rolled to a standstill. As he let his heart rate return towards its regular level he leaned against the panel of the machine and watched Harkin. "Doughnuts fried in animal fat, like lard or something, that'll soon fatten you up. And sweet glazed meats. You want to fatten up, but muscle growth would be more useful.
Harkin added what Fulther suggested to his mental list before turning off his machine as well. "...Muscles like this?" The pallid special held up one arm in the traditional "flex" pose. There was absolutely no visible bulge aside from the bony joints.
Fulther let out a warm laugh and clapped Harkin on the back. "If you weren't standing up straight I'd think there was nothing but skin and bones." He made his way to where some rowing machines were lined up, sitting at one and strapping his feet in. He set the torque of the machine to halfway before starting the back and forth, push with the legs pull with the arms motion. A display at the foot end of the device started counting up the comparative distance he would have rowed in a traditional boat.
Harkin frowned forlornly at Fulther's observation, the expression in his eyes downright pathetic. Compared to Fulther's physique, the teen supposed he did not look very impressive at all. Yeah...Fulther's physique! So he continued emulating the older man, going to one of the rowing machines and again mimicking Fulther's workout.
"I've gotta say," Fulther went on, "you might have the figure of a twig, but you're obviously fit." He paused as he pointed at the younger man. "You've barely broken a sweat and you've been copying my workout exactly." He started up his rowing again with a slight shrug. "In the end, if you're happy with your body then that's all that matters."
Harkin took a moment to observe his own arms and legs as he rowed. "...I don't really mind the way I look...But I've got nothing against eating more, either. So Imma gonna try to fatten up, some." He resolved with a smile.
"Good man," Fulther grunted as he pulled the faux oar handle up to his chest. He'd already clocked over 200m with the current setting, and as he crunched back towards the main mechanism he quickly moved the torque dial up to its highest setting. As he straightened his legs and pulled the bar up to his chest he could feel the increase in difficulty. The muscles in his legs and arms bunched and bulged with each row now.
Again, Harkin mimicked Fulther's workout at a similar pace. Unlike Fulther, though, there was no visible bunching of muscles. Instead there was a sudden prominence of his ribcage with every breath as he rowed.
As he approached the kilometer mark, Fulther increased his pace, beads of sweat rolling down his muscular torso. He enjoyed the rowing workout - he always imagined rowing out to sea, watching the coastline get farther and farther from sight. To his recollection he'd never seen the ocean, but like the others had no memories of his life before becoming a Special.
Unlike Fulther, Harkin imagined nothing as he rowed. Instead his internal monologue was basically a narration of what Fulther was doing, which also served as instructions for himself. Basically, Fulther rowed, Harkin thought "row", and then Harkin rowed. He tended to be rather simple-minded when invited to do things...
Fulther kept up the pace and glanced over to see Harkin doing just as well, making him grin. "Let's see how you do next on the weights!" He was sure that there must be a limit to the other Special's fitness, and was certain the skinny arms couldn't lift as much as his trunk like limbs.
"Weights? I don't think I weigh very much..." Harkin remarked as he continued rowing for as long as Fulther did.
As his machine counted past the 5km point, Fulther released the oar handle and unhooked his feet. He stood and stretched, feeling well warmed up, limber, and pumped up. His skin shone in the artificial light of the gym, his body's sheen of sweat coating his torso. He took a deep breath and led the way towards the weights equipment, assuming Harkin would continue to follow him.
Harkin stopped rowing the instant that Fulther did, regardless of whether or not he reached the same goal (he was just short of it, actually). Then he stood and mimicked Fulther's stretch--even though it actually did practically nothing for him--and indeed followed the older Special to the weights, a few droplets of sweat on his forehead and armpits, but not creating an even sheen.
Pointing at a leather-topped bench, Fulther moved to a rack of barbells. "Lie back on that there bench with your legs either side," he said over his shoulder as he lifted a 35kg and then a 50kg barbell out of the rack. He brought them back to the bench and waited for Harkin to assume the position.
With a nod of his head, Harkin went and laid down on the bench with his legs on either side of it. As he laid there, he let his mind wander. Why did he have to lay down? Is this a sort of scale for weighing him? Why would his legs not be counted if this is supposed to weigh him? What is Fulther doing with those bar things?
"Hold this up," Fulther said as he held the lighter barbell above Harkin's chest. He didn't want to just let the kid take the weight all by himself at once - he had no idea of his strength, despite his fitness.
Harkin only blinked before reaching up and wrapping his fingers around the bar, not even considering the possibility of Fulther letting go and therefore completely unprepared to actually hold up the barbell.
"Be ready to take the weight," Fulther said as he let go of the barbell.
In the time it took Harkin to blink at Fulther and just begin to think over his words, the barbell was released and the pale Special just barely caught it before it could crush his ribcage.
"Good job," Fulther said, not realising how close Harkin had been to receiving an injury. "Now, raise and lower the weights as many times as possible, taking your arms out to full lock," he instructed, demonstrating with his free arm stretched out straight. He left the other Special to get on with it while he dropped the other weights he'd grabbed before fetching a 100kg barbell for himself.
Harkin obeyed Fulther's instructions, lifting and lowering the barbell very slowly at first. The pallid special was still getting used to the weight of it, after all!
"There's no shame in finding it difficult, boy," Fulther chuckled as he carefully placed his own barbell on the rest stand of a bench next to Harkin. As he lay back and manoeuvred his way beneath the hefty weights, he looked across at Harkin. "Your technique's fine. Some of us are simply built different. You'd win hands down against me in a run." He gripped the barbell above him, eased it off its rest and began lifting it out away from his body before lowering it slowly to his chest, taking deep breaths.
"It's a little heavy..." Harkin admitted even as he adjusted to the weight and began lifting and lowering at a steady, practiced-looking pace. "'Technique'? There is a wrong way to lift things? ...I don't think I've ever had to run." Of course, since the simple-minded special had never had to run and so far he had only been mimicking Fulther's actions in the gym, he really had no clue how fast he could run.
Fulther huffed out a chuckle as he raised his weight again. Although the weight he held was five times that of Harkin's, he was matching the smaller one's pace as he bench-pressed. "There'll always... Come... A time... To run," he said between lifts.
"And when that time comes...running faster than others should be a good thing." Harkin pieced his sentence together with whatever he thought would make sense to Fulther, although the implications of what he was saying was not really registering in his own mind.
DR Characters - Darkness Reigns - DR Universe
|Show these comments on your site|