“Yeah!”
The masculine stallion’s cry was distinctive at this point. He really didn’t say much, but you really didn’t need to when you were as cool and as big as he was. It was his catchphrase, so to speak. He’d yell it out to a room of ponies, and flex his biceps, and they’d all look. Some would swoon, some would glare, some would even whimper, but they all looked.
And they were all looking right now. Bulk grinned, his yellowed, crooked teeth twisted into something that resembled a sneer simply because of their unsightly appearance. It wasn’t that he didn’t brush them or anything, they were just yellow. But he didn’t like to think about that, so he didn’t.
Two mares over in the corner of the gym, by the yoga mats, were looking at him. The shorter of the two, a pretty blue mare, was holding up her hoof to hide her mouth as she whispered into the pink ear of the other. She cast errant glances his way, eyes never lingering for long before she looked back to her friend. The pink mare nodded her head slowly in time with whatever the other was saying, an interested frown on her face, one eyebrow cocked, head tilted slightly towards the whispering mouth. The pink mare looked up, casting him a glance as well, then she turned and whispered back.
Bulk grinned at the both of them, pride surging through his bones and masses of muscles as they admired his amazing body. Breathing a smug, half chuckle through his nose, he flexed his biceps, the veins bulging as the massive, pumped muscles bulged outwards.
The pink mare shuddered, and the blue one made a gagging motion with her hoof, then turned away. The pink one, stared for a moment or two more, trying not to snicker, then turned away as well.
Bulk winced, feeling his legs quake. Spindly ankles trembled, and he bit his lip and looked away. A familiar heat was bubbling up in his gut, rolling down to his groin in a prickly wave of anxiety and discomfort. That evil, slimy snake uncurled in his stomach, and started to force its way up the stallion’s massive neck. Shutting his eyes tight, he bit his lip hard and tilted his head up, inhaling a deep breath.
And then it was gone.
Chuckling to himself, Bulk turned and brushed an imaginary spot of dust from his muscular shoulder, then started for the weight benches near the back of the gym. He strode with power, each landing of his disproportionately small hooves like a miniature sledgehammer on the concrete floor. His stride was slightly hindered due to his size, but but it only got him more attention in public, so he didn’t mind all too much.
The bench he picked only had two-hundred pounds on the bar, a hundred on each side, so he added an extra two-hundred to each side. Before he’d even finished putting the last weight on, there was already a crowd of three stallions gathered around.
“You really gonna lift that?” one asked, lifting up his sunglasses up and setting them in his mane.
“Yeah!” Bulk cried, locking the dumbbell in place.
“Of course he is!” the one in the middle said. “He’s puttin’ them on, ain’t he?”
The third just whistled and sat back. “Ain’t no way.”
Bulk lowered himself down on the bench, then wiggled under the bar and took it in his hooves.
“Well shit, don’t just stand there!” the middle one said. “Let’s spot him!”
The three stallions moved in an instant, one taking up stance behind the bench, while the other two stood on either side of the weights, ready to catch them if they fell. Too bad they wouldn’t have to.
Four more ponies had arrived from across the gym, standing a short ways off and watching with wide eyes. Bulk just grinned, then took a couple of fast breaths and pushed up on the bar. It lifted easy, and came down slow. His biceps bulged, and he bit his lip hard, pushing it back up a second later with a heavy grunt. The stallions on either side of him hopped in excitement and traded mouthed “Holy Shit!’s” across the bar. At the top of his the lift, Bulk let it fall again, then lifted it a second time, and a third, and a fourth! On the fifth, he set it back on the rack, then took a deep breath or two.
“Two more!” he screamed, eyes bugging out.
“You can’t lift eight hundred!” the spotter behind him cried.
“I said, two more!” he bellowed, shaking the bar and jostling the weights.
The stallions on either side shrugged, then broke away to grab two more hundred-pounders off the floor. One lifted his up easily and fitted it on the end of the bar. The other heaved and staggered, almost falling in the process of lining up the hole.
As the spotters took to Bulk’s left and right again, the crowd continued to gather. All other activity throughout the gym had come to a halt as ponies gathered around to watch him be the best. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his body absolutely shivered in anticipation.
He took a moment to prep himself, tensing his muscles, taking deep breaths. Removing his hooves from the bar, he wiped them on his coat to make sure perspiration wouldn’t make him slip, then he took a firm grip.
With an almighty heave, he lifted the bar off the rack, and brought it down to his chest, holding it just above. Three quick breaths, then he pushed. His eyes bugged and his muscles bulged, veins pulsing under the taut surface as they struggled with the weight. Bulk clenched his teeth so hard he was sure the jagged tombstones would shatter, then let out a loud, primal cry and pushed up with all his might.
The bar lifted, then slammed back to its place back on the rack, and the crowd cheered and whooped and laughed and high-hoofed.
“Heh... Yeah!” Bulk yelled, panting, his vision a little cloudy. He chuckled, swaying a bit as he sat up. One of the stallions who’d been spotting him let out a cheerful laugh in his ear and gave his back a double-slap with a hoof, and a moment later the other threw a wet towel around his neck.
“You did it, guy!”
Excited, chattering, the crowds began to part, going back to their own thing with smiles and impressed looks upon their faces. Though, it was only a few minutes before the chattering died down; a moment or two later, not a single eye remained on him.
Not one.
Lifting himself off the bench with huff and a grunt, Bulk grinned for a moment or two, then let it slide off his face. He chewed his lip for a second, then huffed and pulled the towel down from around his neck. Using it to wipe the sweat of a brow, he breathed a sigh into the musky cloth, then tossed it carelessly over his shoulder.
Bulk made his way for the front doors of the gym, muscles still pumped from the massive lift. Still, nopony looked. He reached the front desk, and shot a grin to the receptionist, but she was immersed in the most recent addition of Earth Pony Fashion. He held it for a second, then grumbled under his breath and pushed out onto the street. The wan light of evening greeted him, the sky an assortment of blues and pinks as the sun slowly dived behind a set of clouds on the horizon. It was time to head home.
Ponies gave him a wide berth on the sidewalk as he walked, some even going so far as to cross to the other side of the street just so that they didn’t have to walk past him. He couldn’t blame them, really. They were probably worried the sidewalk wasn’t big enough!
He passed by a mare and a stallion, shooting them a friendly look on the way by. The mare just seemed to tense, and once they’d passed, his ears picked up her quiet voice.
“What’s wrong with that freak?”
’What’s wrong with that freak?” the little lavender filly spat, looking amongst her group for friends before pointing to the little white pegasus in the corner of the schoolyard. They most likely knew that he could hear them, though didn’t care enough to lower their voices.
“I know, his eyes are red,” a second one hissed.
“What sorta freak has red eyes?” a third added.
The first one pitched in again, putting a hoof on each of her friends’ shoulders to turn away. “Just ignore him. Maybe he’ll go jump off a bridge.”
Bulk gave his head a hard shake, then took a few deep breaths and pushed on. They were jealous. They didn’t have the body that he had. They were afraid that he’d beat them in a fight.
He passed by a storefront window, so clean that he could see his own reflection. Smirking, he looked over at himself, but the pony looking back wasn’t him. It... couldn’t be. A tiny, white colt with red eyes stared back, his legs spindly, weak, flimsy. His wings were small and sickly, spanning from his slightly protruding spine. The little pegasus was smiling back at him with twisted. Yellow. Teeth. But after a moment, that smile faded, a look of horror dawning on the colt’s face as Bulk felt it rise up in his own gut.
Bulk screamed, lifting his right hoof off the ground and cocking it back. The colt did the same, challenging him! He threw the punch as hard as he could with all the might he could muster, and so did the colt. Their two hooves collided, and the window exploded around his small hoof, mirrored glass raining all around him as the storefront shattered inwards.
He was left staring into a clothing store, a couple of nearby shoppers frozen in horror at the sight of him. A few more shards of glass fell to the ground and shattered, interrupting the awkward silence. Then a mare with a bag loaded down in socks and dresses screamed.
Bulk turned and ran, galloping like his life depended on it. Somepony shouted behind him, but he didn’t look back. He couldn’t look back.
His lungs were on fire. Flimsy hooves tip-tapped on the sidewalk like a little typewriter as he sprinted as fast as his little legs could carry him. His bags were heavy, weighed down with schoolbooks, and the strain on his little frame was almost too much to endure. The colts chasing him were all bigger and stronger.
He chanced a look back over his shoulder, and immediately regretted it. His right hoof caught a buckled slab of sidewalk, and he went into a tumble, books went flying from his bags, and the pair of plastic-framed glasses went skittering across the ground. Coming to a stop, he let out a pained cry and held his knee, knowing it was bleeding, but not daring to look.
He only spared a second for that, though. The resounding hoofsteps of the others were close. He couldn’t see but their dull, dark shapes through the fog of his unaided vision. he scrambled forward, hooves padding the ground desperately for his glasses. He couldn’t lose another pair!
So preoccupied with finding his glasses, he didn’t even notice that the stallions had come upon him until his spindly hoof found a thick, brown one, and under it, a pair of delicate, plastic glasses.
“Looking for these?”
With a gulp, Bulk looked up at the blurry shape looming over him. Without warning, a second hoof grabbed his tail and yanked him backwards, and he let out a terrified yell as he lost his footing, chin hitting the ground with a pop from his jaw.
A distinct ‘crunch’ filled the air, accompanied with the crackling of tempered glass.
“Snowflake,” one chidded, snickering as he placed a hoof between the colt’s shoulderblades, pinning him to the ground. “More like special snowflake.”
Bulk blinked, his vision coming into focus on the front door of his apartment. Only Celestia could know how long he’d been standing there. Trembling, the stallion let out a long, slow exhale, then lazily headbutted the door, watching as it swung open into the apartment. There was no need to unlock it--he’d broken the lock a month or two ago after he’d locked himself out. The musky smell of the apartment greeted him even before he had a chance to step in the door, a festering combination of sweat, old pizza boxes, and an overflowing trash can.
Bulk stepped inside, then lazily kicked the door closed behind him, letting it slam shut in his wake; the doorframe trembled a little in response. Grunting to himself, he kicked a beer can out of his way and sent it clattering across the kitchen floor. He crossed to the fridge, then pulled it open, eyes scanning the rows and rows of perishables. Snagging the gallon of milk, he popped the cap and slammed half of it, finishing up with a sigh and a belch before half tossing it back on the shelf. Grabbing the two slices of pizza wrapped in tinfoil next to it, he slammed the fridge door shut, then turned away. The pizza had only been wrapped in a half-assed fashion, and practically fell out of the foil as Bulk separated the two. Crumpled foil bounced off the full trash can, and the cold pizza went down the hatch in a few quick bites.
Once hunger was accounted for, he made his way down the short hallway and pushed into the bathroom. At first, Bulk was afraid to look at himself in the mirror above the counter, but after a moment he spared a glance. The same, large, sexy stallion that everypony knew and loved was standing there in front of him, looking rather tired.
He grunted, then reached up with a hoof and plucked the contact lense from his right eye, his vision immediately going blurry. He plopped it in the little cup by the tap, then did the other. Sniffing, rubbing his nose a bit, he snatched the pair of plastic-rimmed glasses from the edge of the counter, then haphazardly fitted them on his muzzle. He hadn’t needed a new pair in twelve odd years now. Ha, beat that.
Taking just a moment to look at himself in the mirror before he turned towards the shower, the stallion swiped the curtain off to one side and started the water, waiting for it to warm up before he stepped in to wash away the sweat of the day. The water was hot, steaming even as it poured over his coat, but he didn’t mind. The burning was welcoming, because it felt so good when it stopped. After a moment, he reached out and turned up the cold water just a little, then made a grab for the shampoo bottle.
“Ha, look at you!” the broad, red stallion jibed with a snort, a primal grin plastered on his face. His messy, brown mane hung around in face in tangled locks, the overwhelming scent of cologne and sweat wafting from his form. He pressed the lanky, white-coated teen a little harder up against the wall, lifting his rear hooves from the ground. “You’re weak.” The larger stallion used his free hoof to slug him in the belly. Letting out a loud cry, Snowflake tried to double over, eyes bugging out as the wind was knocked out of him.
He kicked and struggled, practically sobbing as the larger pony delivered another punch to his gut, and another... and another. There was a headbutt too, one that bloodied the little guy’s nose and left him sobbing, a combination of snot and blood congealing on his muzzle.
Finally, the larger teen let him fall to the ground. “Amber is mine, you got that? Stay away from her.” He took a half step back, then let out a single laugh, his voice layered with smug spitefulness. “If you really want her, then maybe you shouldn’t be such a pushover.”
Bulk jerked suddenly, wincing as the cold water poured down over his shoulders, his mane still lathered with shampoo. He growled at the cold water, then cranked the knob all the way down, only to realize that there was no more hot water. With something more along the lines of a disappointed whine, he shoved his head under the cold stream and hurriedly finished washing the soap from his mane.
Skipping out of the shower, not willing to remain under the icy water any longer, he scooped up the musty towel from the floor and ran it sloppily over his face and through his mane, then tossed it right back on the floor again.
Making his way back to the bathroom counter, Bulk reached out and pulled open the front of the mirror, revealing the shelf behind it. He frowned at the compartment and its contents for a second for a second, then prodded a bottle of painkillers and listened to the rattle of the couple pills inside. He reached for another, some supplements, then popped the cap and tilted it back, shaking three into his mouth and swallowing them dry. He returned the cap to the bottle, then returned the bottle to the shelf, then reached for the real goods.
Bulk lifted a brown bottle half full of fluid, then grabbed a needle from the shelf below it. He stared at the label on the front for a minute, then sighed and pulled the cap, dunking the needle and drawing it half full, watching as the yellow liquid filled the viewing glass.
He raised the needle, examining the fine point, turning it end over end in his hooves for a second or two.
He would be better.
Turning it towards himself, he flexed his left bicep, then jabbed the needle into it with his right hoof. A slight flinch was the only indication to this, as was the following exhale as he depressed the syringe. Milliliter by milliliter, he watched as the cool liquid filled his veins, traveling up his shoulder and into his neck with an icy chill to it. His strong frame shivered, and Bulk bit his lip to distract himself from the act.
He would be stronger.
Author's Note
First fanfiction in something like... two years.
Hope I still got it.
