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The sky was as clear as could be at the city beach, the sun beating down on a sweltering day. Cries of passing seagulls mixed with the excited shouts of natives and tourists alike, the crashing waves forming a soothing backdrop to it all. Every now and then, a booming clang of heavy metal would cleave through the summer ambience from one of a few dozen weight stations half-sunk in the sand.
A pair of amethystine hooves sank into the surface about as far as the gym equipment. A pointed nose took its first sniff of sea breeze in a decade, at least, and likely far more. Verse remembered going to the beach once, maybe twice as a kid. The shores of the old bat country were far rockier than the bright beige beauty before him, and far less busy. There was also a saltier, somewhat meaty tinge to the air around here, and it was easy to see why: nearly every station before him was occupied by a hard-working athlete, sweat dripping down fur, feathers, and scales alike.
A sly smile grew across the ram-bat's face, his whip-like tail flicking its spade-shaped tip back and forth. As tough as all those lifters looked, he had a clear height advantage on every last one of them even without his sextet of horns, plus some extra bulk on top. It was his time to shine.
Eager to add to the chorus of shifting weights, Verse quickly spotted an empty squat rack over the crowd of onlookers. He couldn't help but put some extra sway into his strut, hoping to turn some heads beneath his shoulders along the way. He was a former royal, after all, and never before had he gotten to show off so much of himself. If the chiseled pecs and powerful biceps on his wing-arms didn't garner attention through his ill-fitting tank top, then certainly his Speedo would. A garment unlike anything he'd ever worn before, the bright purple nylon jutted out proudly from his thick woolen quads.
It was only a few weeks since he learned some proper form, but he could already balance half a ton of iron on his back for his warm up and ramp up from there. The controlled rising and falling was far more enjoyable than the heavy lifting of his old days, and far more efficient. Instead of spending eight grueling hours in a quarry picking things up and putting them down, he could simply get into a groove and pound out steady sets of seven. Best of all, he'd look at himself after every break to find more taut muscle fibers pushing out through his thin tan fur. Thanks to the supplements this new world had to offer, he'd get to keep far more of each pump than before, too.
As Verse slid some extra weights on his bar for his final set, a deafening crash from behind made him jump. Curious to check out his company but not enough to interrupt his routine, he glanced over his shoulder after hoisting twelve hundred pounds on his back. In an instant, he wished he left the weight on the rack, crushed by both the heavy metal and a downright incredible sight.
The beast in the next station over was enormous, sinking an insignificant bench deeper into the sand as they sat. The colossal fox - or wolf, perhaps, the ram-bat didn't know every species by heart yet - was practically as wide as he was tall, with definition pouring out of every inch of his burnt-orange fur. His arms were remarkably long, stretching the black cuffs that dared to contain them in every direction while he tossed 45 pound plates onto an unsuspecting bar like they were Frisbees. The hybrid nearly got lost in his landscape of a back, its undulating texture interrupted only briefly by a dark, shaggy mane.
Verse had to get a move on, though: his own back was aching from a set he barely even started.
Gritting his teeth and baring his fangs, the hybrid redoubled his efforts, lowering his glutes as much as he could bear. Three squats into the set, he simply had to look back again, only to get yet another shock. The impossibly muscular canine was curling the massive weight in one gigantic arm, its veins throbbing so forcefully he could nearly hear them over the groans of the abused bar. At the peak of every rep, he tried to count the number of plates the titan was using, desperate to get an answer before he finished his set.
By the time Verse reracked his bar in an overworked panic, shooting for seven reps and accidentally squeezing out ten, he had reached an unthinkable conclusion: the giant was curling at least as much weight as he struggled to squat so many times, and making it look easy.
Completely mesmerized, the hybrid couldn't help but wander over to the other station, stretching his sore wing-arms so the membranes would help cool him down. The bulkier beast didn't seem to mind his heavy hoofsteps, effortlessly lifting the weight again and again while the bar bent from its own mass. Thirty ludicrous curls later, the canine rolled the weight out of his hand and onto a rack that visibly bounced when it landed. The brute let out a content sigh, more than ready to switch arms in a flash - that is, until he opened his eyes and caught sight of his new admirer.
A friendly grin sprouted on the canine's face. He pushed up himself off of the much-relieved bench and lumbered over to the startled ram-bat, shaking the ground with each stomp. In seconds, Verse was stuck staring at two humongous pecs, each one wider than his entire chest and glistening with sweat. The colossus's head stood higher than even the tips of the hybrid's horns, perched atop a mess of soaked white fluff.
"Hey there! Don't think I've seen you here before," the beast barked. "My name's Monty. What's yours?"
The ram-bat's gaze was still locked on the giant's imposing rack. He could barely make out two scars at each pec's bloated base.
"V... Vercin... Dude... you are huge..."
Monty let out a surprisingly high-pitched chuckle, followed by a deep roar-bark. He struggled to bring a paw to his face in embarrassment.
"Oh, maned wolf instinct, sorry," the beast apologized, sheepishly tapping one of his pecs. "But uh, thanks, I get that a lot! You look pretty good yourself, V! You can watch me if you want - fans make me wanna push myself further, heh. I can even give you some pointers while I work out!"
Verse's tail perked up at the thought. As unremarkable as this world once seemed, the possibilities were far more open than his old one. If he wanted to find out how far it could take him, why not start learning from someone far larger than any mortal back home could ever dream of?
"S-s-sure! I'd love to!"
Another sketch by the very talented Proxi, this time of my ram-bat Verse getting some exercise. Proxi's incredibly handsome maned wolf Monty makes a guest appearance, putting my guy to shame just by existing, hehe... at least he's incredibly nice about it, though!
Enjoy!
The sky was as clear as could be at the city beach, the sun beating down on a sweltering day. Cries of passing seagulls mixed with the excited shouts of natives and tourists alike, the crashing waves forming a soothing backdrop to it all. Every now and then, a booming clang of heavy metal would cleave through the summer ambience from one of a few dozen weight stations half-sunk in the sand.
A pair of amethystine hooves sank into the surface about as far as the gym equipment. A pointed nose took its first sniff of sea breeze in a decade, at least, and likely far more. Verse remembered going to the beach once, maybe twice as a kid. The shores of the old bat country were far rockier than the bright beige beauty before him, and far less busy. There was also a saltier, somewhat meaty tinge to the air around here, and it was easy to see why: nearly every station before him was occupied by a hard-working athlete, sweat dripping down fur, feathers, and scales alike.
A sly smile grew across the ram-bat's face, his whip-like tail flicking its spade-shaped tip back and forth. As tough as all those lifters looked, he had a clear height advantage on every last one of them even without his sextet of horns, plus some extra bulk on top. It was his time to shine.
Eager to add to the chorus of shifting weights, Verse quickly spotted an empty squat rack over the crowd of onlookers. He couldn't help but put some extra sway into his strut, hoping to turn some heads beneath his shoulders along the way. He was a former royal, after all, and never before had he gotten to show off so much of himself. If the chiseled pecs and powerful biceps on his wing-arms didn't garner attention through his ill-fitting tank top, then certainly his Speedo would. A garment unlike anything he'd ever worn before, the bright purple nylon jutted out proudly from his thick woolen quads.
It was only a few weeks since he learned some proper form, but he could already balance half a ton of iron on his back for his warm up and ramp up from there. The controlled rising and falling was far more enjoyable than the heavy lifting of his old days, and far more efficient. Instead of spending eight grueling hours in a quarry picking things up and putting them down, he could simply get into a groove and pound out steady sets of seven. Best of all, he'd look at himself after every break to find more taut muscle fibers pushing out through his thin tan fur. Thanks to the supplements this new world had to offer, he'd get to keep far more of each pump than before, too.
As Verse slid some extra weights on his bar for his final set, a deafening crash from behind made him jump. Curious to check out his company but not enough to interrupt his routine, he glanced over his shoulder after hoisting twelve hundred pounds on his back. In an instant, he wished he left the weight on the rack, crushed by both the heavy metal and a downright incredible sight.
The beast in the next station over was enormous, sinking an insignificant bench deeper into the sand as they sat. The colossal fox - or wolf, perhaps, the ram-bat didn't know every species by heart yet - was practically as wide as he was tall, with definition pouring out of every inch of his burnt-orange fur. His arms were remarkably long, stretching the black cuffs that dared to contain them in every direction while he tossed 45 pound plates onto an unsuspecting bar like they were Frisbees. The hybrid nearly got lost in his landscape of a back, its undulating texture interrupted only briefly by a dark, shaggy mane.
Verse had to get a move on, though: his own back was aching from a set he barely even started.
Gritting his teeth and baring his fangs, the hybrid redoubled his efforts, lowering his glutes as much as he could bear. Three squats into the set, he simply had to look back again, only to get yet another shock. The impossibly muscular canine was curling the massive weight in one gigantic arm, its veins throbbing so forcefully he could nearly hear them over the groans of the abused bar. At the peak of every rep, he tried to count the number of plates the titan was using, desperate to get an answer before he finished his set.
By the time Verse reracked his bar in an overworked panic, shooting for seven reps and accidentally squeezing out ten, he had reached an unthinkable conclusion: the giant was curling at least as much weight as he struggled to squat so many times, and making it look easy.
Completely mesmerized, the hybrid couldn't help but wander over to the other station, stretching his sore wing-arms so the membranes would help cool him down. The bulkier beast didn't seem to mind his heavy hoofsteps, effortlessly lifting the weight again and again while the bar bent from its own mass. Thirty ludicrous curls later, the canine rolled the weight out of his hand and onto a rack that visibly bounced when it landed. The brute let out a content sigh, more than ready to switch arms in a flash - that is, until he opened his eyes and caught sight of his new admirer.
A friendly grin sprouted on the canine's face. He pushed up himself off of the much-relieved bench and lumbered over to the startled ram-bat, shaking the ground with each stomp. In seconds, Verse was stuck staring at two humongous pecs, each one wider than his entire chest and glistening with sweat. The colossus's head stood higher than even the tips of the hybrid's horns, perched atop a mess of soaked white fluff.
"Hey there! Don't think I've seen you here before," the beast barked. "My name's Monty. What's yours?"
The ram-bat's gaze was still locked on the giant's imposing rack. He could barely make out two scars at each pec's bloated base.
"V... Vercin... Dude... you are huge..."
Monty let out a surprisingly high-pitched chuckle, followed by a deep roar-bark. He struggled to bring a paw to his face in embarrassment.
"Oh, maned wolf instinct, sorry," the beast apologized, sheepishly tapping one of his pecs. "But uh, thanks, I get that a lot! You look pretty good yourself, V! You can watch me if you want - fans make me wanna push myself further, heh. I can even give you some pointers while I work out!"
Verse's tail perked up at the thought. As unremarkable as this world once seemed, the possibilities were far more open than his old one. If he wanted to find out how far it could take him, why not start learning from someone far larger than any mortal back home could ever dream of?
"S-s-sure! I'd love to!"
Another sketch by the very talented Proxi, this time of my ram-bat Verse getting some exercise. Proxi's incredibly handsome maned wolf Monty makes a guest appearance, putting my guy to shame just by existing, hehe... at least he's incredibly nice about it, though!
Enjoy!
Category Artwork (Digital) / Muscle
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 2212 x 1666px
File Size 1.92 MB
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