The slave’s first day
First day with my newfound servant, and I gotta say, it kicked off with a bang. Dude walked in, and I guess he wanted to make it crystal clear who's the boss. What does he do? Gets on his knees, like, full-on submission mode. And you know what? I decided to play it up, show off some of that power.
Before I even hit the gym scene, I was rocking some serious muscle vibes in two different gigs. First up, I was knee-deep in agricultural work, handling all sorts of tasks on the farm. Lifting hay bales, tending to animals, you name it—basically, a workout in denim overalls.
Then I joined a moving company crew. Picture me, slinging furniture and heaving boxes like it's an everyday thing. Every move was a full-body workout, and I became the go-to person for anything heavy that needed shifting.
By the time I hit the gym for the first time, my muscles were already primed and ready for action. Those early jobs laid the foundation for the strength I'd later be flexing in the gym. It's like I had a head start on the whole muscle game, thanks to the grind on the farm and the hustle with the moving crew.
That strength, it's all part of who I am. So, when my new servant decided to kneel, I just gave him a taste of what I've been building naturally.
The servant was in for a treat, and I was about to show off my power in ways that would make even the dumbbells jealous.
I cranked up the intensity, starting with some heavyweight deadlifts. Picture me, lifting those weights like it's a warm-up, veins popping, muscles flexing. The servant must've thought gravity was on vacation.
Standing and holding dumbbells that probably have their own gravitational pull. The servant's eyes widened as I prepared for the lift. The weights weren't just heavy; they were practically shouting, "Challenge accepted."
As I curled those monsters up, I could feel the veins in my arms waking up, pulsating with each inch. It was like they were on a mission to steal the spotlight. The biceps, no longer playing around, were on a journey of expansion that defied the laws of regular curls.
The iron in my hands groaned a bit, like it was feeling the pressure of the lift. But I wasn't stopping. With each repetition, the biceps reached new heights, demanding the weights to bow down in submission. It was a battle between muscle and metal, and my muscles were winning.
The veins, now resembling a roadmap of strength, snaked across my pumped arms. The servant must've been witnessing a spectacle, where every lift was a testament to the extreme power being harnessed.
As I lowered the weights, the biceps stayed flexed, as if reluctant to let go of the spotlight. The iron, slightly bent from the ordeal, sat there like a witness to the extreme flexing that just went down.
Next up, we took a detour to the pull-up bar. Not the regular pull-ups, oh no. I threw in some one-arm pull-ups just to drive the point home. The servant's eyes were probably widening with each lift.
To really amp it up, I pulled out the battle ropes. Smacked those bad boys against the floor like I was taming wild snakes. The rhythm was fierce, and I could feel the power surging through me.
I sauntered over, lifted the dude up like he was a feather, and suddenly, he's part of the workout routine. Squats? Yup, I'm doing them with a human load. Lunges? You got it, with the servant adding that extra challenge. It was like turning my home gym into a playground, and the servant was the unexpected playmate.
The room echoed with grunts and probably some surprised gasps as I incorporated the human weight into the routine. It was a workout for both of us, but let's be real, I was the one pushing the limits.
As the servant dangled mid-air, I could feel the burn in my muscles intensifying. It was like the room turned into my personal CrossFit arena, with the servant becoming an unwitting part of the routine.