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Working out the Beast

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Alyaerin

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Aly gripped the steering wheel until his hands trembled on the cool vinyl, the fixed object unable to do more than twitch back and forth from left to right in his grasp. His car travelled quickly down the road, stars pricking into life high above as twilight claimed the land. He swore at nothing, glaring at the road as if it had personally caused him affront, sparing a glance for the reflection in the rear view mirror. His brown hair had become tousled over the course of the day, as rebellious as ever - having the windows down didn't help much either. He supposed he was lucky he kept it so short, so any mess it made of itself was contained.

Aly sighed. He needed to dunk his head under a nice cold shower. He growled, drawing the sound up to the back of his throat. That would come later. But it sounded like exactly what he needed to make the shit of the day do a runner.

He shook his head, jaw clenched. Pain blossomed at the hinge of his jaw, but he ignored it, growling and slamming the heel of his hand into the steering wheel. He pushed through another corner, growling as an old farmer at the end of a long day pulled onto the road, moving far too slowly and far too close for comfort. An aggressive downshift, accelerator nailed to the floor and a quick twitch of the steering wheel drove the heavy four wheel drive around the rolling roadblock. As he pulled back onto the correct side of the road, he shifted back into top gear and watched the old farmer disappear quickly into the gloom in his mirrors.

Grinding his teeth, he tried not to think of the workplace, the office he'd left at his back. But anger spilled in regardless, a molten stream charring the pit of his stomach, smoke curling up the back of his throat. He snarled, a feral sound ripping itself from his lips. Just what was wrong with them? What was so hard about work that he had to spend hour after hour there after his day was done? And on a Sunday night – what of that? Was he that important that he couldn't go home to his partner on time?

Of course not. He was just a cog in their machine. A very efficient cog, truth be told, and one that worked harder than all the rest of them, but a cog all the same.

He turned up the radio, letting the scream of metal wash over him like a deluge of water. Yet it didn't help as it usually did.

Something pulled in his chest, anger roiling to greater peaks, neck flushed with blood in hot, furious patches. She'd been waiting for him – probably waiting up too. And yet, here he was, driving home in the dark after being made to be late again. It was always the same story. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, sending his wife a short message to let her know where he was and not to worry.

Teeth bared, he inched his foot down on the accelerator, picking up speed until the Australian bush flashed past him in a gloomy blur, briefly illuminated by his headlights before being plunged back into inky darkness. He flew around the familiar corners on maximum attack, knowing every bump and inch of the road. He shouldn't have been going that fast, but he couldn't find it in himself to care in the moment as the long road poured out before him. Approaching his favourite set of corners, his attention sharpened as he braked hard and downshifted. The four wheel drive drifted to within millimetres of the left edge of the road, then dived hard right into the apex of the corner with its tyres howling as they clipped the reflectors in the centre of the road; he gave the engine maximum throttle and let the vehicle run wide to the edge of the road, a hard upshift at the exit of the corner settled the balance for the sweeping bends over the bridge. Blasting out of the uphill blind exit, he slowed slightly, aware of just how much faster than the speed limit he was travelling.

His shoulder blades throbbed with tension. It would be okay. He'd be back in his hometown soon and would be able to get through it. He always did. It would all come right again, as long as he kept going, one foot in front of the other.

Thankfully, there was one place he could go every day to get rid of his problems. Or at least tame them, if but for a little while.

As buildings flickered into sight, lights glimmering through the murk of dusk, he exhaled softly, though it did little to release the tightness in his chest. The gym was set on the outskirts of town as it thought itself an outcast, but it could not be faulted for being open twenty-four hours each and every day of the year. Aly shivered: his one solace.

He pulled up into the carpark, already lunging for his gym bag, tucked away on the back seat. Scrabbling for it, he cursed and hurled himself bodily out of the car, skin prickling as if set alight. The night was cooling rapidly and yet he burned, angry sweat trickling down the lines of muscle in his back, sticking his work shirt to his skin. He shrugged, pushing it back from his skin with a muffled grunt and an eye roll. It soon wouldn't be a problem he cared about.

Empty - blessedly so. He inhaled deeply as he stepped into the gym, doors sliding shut at his heels. Air conditioning ruffled his hair, too cool for comfort for most until they got moving. He slipped into one of the changing cubicles and replaced his clothes hastily, eager to get going. He needed no self-encouragement to jump onto the rowing machine, position close to the ground, and jump straight into his warm up with his headphones tucked firmly into his ears, music blaring. The repetitive motion soothed the edge of his frustration, muscles warming as he tried to lose himself. It should have been easier than it was, but, minute by minute, he could not find any change in his mental state. Grinding his teeth, he rowed quicker and quicker, upping the resistance until sweat poured slickly down his back. He pushed himself harder, groaning deep in the back of his throat as he chased the high he so desperately sought, legs and arms screaming.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't anywhere near enough.

But a warm up couldn't last forever and, as calming as he had thought it was, his shoulders still rolled forward heavily with tension that he didn't think rowing would be kind enough to release. He took a deep breath through his nostrils, chest expanding with air.

Right...

_ _

The word was supposed to psyche him up, get him in the correct mind for working out, yet all it did was draw further attention to the twisting anger roiling in his stomach. He growled and threw his hands up as he jumped off the rowing machine, cable retreating with an indignant snap. Well, if cardio wasn't going to get him going, he sure as hell hoped he knew what would.

The barbell gleamed lightly under the overhead lighting strips, left out on the Olympic lifting matting as if it had been waiting for him. Sliding a plate - enough to be challenging - on to either end and securing them with a couple of metal clamps, Aly set up for a conventional deadlift, back braced and shoulder blades pushed back to support the weight. He closed his fingers firmly around the bar and brought it up smoothly, hinging at his hips.

One...two...three...four...five...six reps.

He changed his grip with each repetition, one overhand and one underhand, as he forced the weight to move. His back strained to brace and he hissed out a grunt through his teeth, louder than he would have been if the gym had been populated. He finished the last rep with a heavy grunt and a gasp, all air rushing from his lungs as his head spun and the burning in his chest retreated, if but a step.

Better. He curled and uncurled the fingers of his right hand, digits tingling. Just a little bit better. He paced around the lifting mats in a circle, growling like an animal as he shook his head as if to clear it, circling the same spot over and over again.

It was a blessing of the quiet gym that he was able to tackle his back session in exactly the way he liked it, so, rather than burning out his lower back on deadlifts in the first round, he headed to the pull up bars. He didn't pause to grab a box to stand on, instead leaping confidently for the bars and latching his fingers around the nearest one. Dangling, he set his shoulders back and grunted as he drew his body up until his chin poked over the top of the bar.

Again.

He raised and lowered his body several times, losing track of the reps as he forced himself to that point where his arms no longer wanted to support his weight, back thrumming with too much temporary pain to complete another rep. Hanging as low as he could go without releasing the bar, he stretched out his back, arching into the light swing of his body. His arm itched and he grunted as he twisted, trying and failing to rub it with his face. And then he stilled, bar the natural sway of his body adjusting and accounting for his position hanging from the bar.

Was that...fur tickling its way down his arms?

He baulked, eyes wide, as the fur spread, racing up under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Hanging there slack-jawed, he squirmed as it spread down his legs, trainers suddenly too tight on his feet. Aly yelped, muscle swelling beneath his shirt and shorts so that his clothing strained at the very limits of its seams, threatening to burst. His face bulged out and out, a long, black snout pushing from his face as if it belonged there. Teeth sharpened, curving into fangs and the half-human half-wolf howled, tipping back his muzzle as he dropped to the matting with a solid thump.

His trainers were ruined, not worth saving, but his clothes just about contained his new form as his eyes adjusted themselves, turning a soft yellow that seemed to glow out of his black muzzle. The wolf licked his lips as his transformation came to completion, feet spreading out into paws as his hands remained largely unchanged bar the new paw pads and short claws tipping each finger. The jet-black coat of fur covered his body from head to toe and he snarled lowly, ears back, at the empty gym, glaring into the corners as if a foe may have lurked there. He was ready for anything.

He wasn't human anymore. The wolf growled, lips curling back from his teeth as his fangs drooled. He was the wolf he’d always dreamed of being.

Raising his paw, he touched the leather collar around his neck, though barely paid its presence any note. His body thrummed with raw power, moist nose twitching as he caught the scents of sweat lingering on metal and padded seats, the oil that ensured the machines moved smoothly and the faux grass in the multi-use grass room. His ears flicked from one side to the other, focusing on the sound of a car backfiring outside as a night bird shrieked – one he did not recognise. Or perhaps he would have recognised it if he had not been focused on other things.

With a feral growl, he leapt back to his barbell, covering the distance in three loping strides, setting up in his wolf form as if he had been doing it all his life. The bar rose easily – too easily – and he slammed on two more plates, uncaring of the numbers. It was just good to lift, to feel his body working and moving the weight as it was designed to. He wasn't suited for sitting in an office - not in body or mind.

He paused, tongue lolling out to sweep along the side of his muzzle as he panted. Had that been a personal best? He didn’t know. It must have been far past what he’d been capable of as a human, yet he could only heave for lost breath and howl, throwing himself into his next planned exercise of barbell rows with energy he would not have before believed he could ever have demonstrated.

Straight from the floor, back braced and shoulder blades back. He brought the bar up, teeth clenched as he grunted, ears twitching back. His ears caught everything, even the twist of plates on the bar, singing to him sweetly as he completed his set. Dropping the load with a thud that sent a light tremor through the floor, he steadied himself to finish the exercise, the stress of the day finally easing, just a little, from his shoulders.

The weights were finally helping.

Setting himself down for the grind, he worked his way through his set exercises, ticking off the big lifts mentally as he completed him. The numbers no longer seemed to matter as he ground his way through each and every one, working back and chest equally until his muscles screamed.

He blinked, staring at the bar as his toes curled and uncurled, back flat on the bench and glistening with slick lines of sweat after bench pressing his second set. One more to go. Or perhaps one more after that. Electric energy zinged through his veins and he barked at nothing, baulking from the shadows. It wasn't that the empty gym made him anxious - it was more that the scent of cleaning products made his sensitive nose burn.

Alyaerin sneezed, shook his head and dropped back to the bench. Arching his back, he snarled at the bar as he wedged his shoulder blades under his body, pulling his chest up from the bench, and pushed the bar up from the hooks. It weighed heavily on his paws, or at least he was aware that it should have done. The weight burned glorious strain through his muscles as he lowered it, yet it caused him nowhere nearly as much soreness as the lift would have normally. He leapt to his paws, curling and uncurling his fingers against his furry palms, tasting his own sweat on the air.

He was strong. He was invincible. He tipped his muzzle back and howled, eyes lidded.

As a wolf, he could do anything.

He blasted through his workout, minutes slipping by sinuously as he panted, groaned and worked harder than he would have ever thought possible, breath spilling over his tongue as he breathed through an open muzzle. Numbers? He snapped at the dumbbells, dropping them heavily to the mats as he sat up from a chest fly, rubbing his knuckles. Nothing mattered as long as he was working harder and harder, competing against himself and pushing himself right up to his limit and then over the edge.

Because there was no point to any of it if he wasn't doing more and more, forcing himself to improve through all the shit and the grind and what drove him to the freeing confines of the gym each and every single goddamn day.

And pushing his limits was an addictive high. One that made him forget everything else.

The workout ended not because his energy failed but because he knew, in the back of his mind, that it was time. He could not go further without causing damage to his human form, his natural form. His heart pounded, yet he did not bother changing into more respectable clothing as he padded back out the car without even a cool down. Sweat cooled on his skin and he rolled his shoulders back, peeling away the stretched shirt from his fur. The wolf grinned, stars glinting in the back of his eyes. Who needed to cool down in the gym, really? He had something better in mind for that.

He didn't have to go far in the car to reach his goal, his driving style considerably less aggressive than it had been on his approach to the gym. He hummed a tune to himself, headphones loose around his neck, as he drummed his fingers across the top of the steering wheel, ears twitching to catch the sounds of the winter night. It was cool by his standards, being used to more extreme temperatures, but the lick of wind over his muzzle as he rolled the window down made him groan in the back of his throat, lips parted. The only annoyance was his tail twisted beneath his rump, squeezed into the seat. But that would only be temporary. His sharp eyes caught a glint on the side of the road up ahead. As he got closer, he saw a kangaroo feeding on green grass shoots; startled by the vehicle’s approach, it ran across the road in front of his car. Snorting to himself softly, the wolf slowed just enough to miss the spooked critter, shaking his head slightly. One day you’ll learn to stay off the road, Skip, he thought to himself.

Alyaerin pulled up on the side of a dirt road, not far from home but with just one more thing to do. His chest and back ached pleasantly as he drove his hind paws into a light jog, relaxing as his body cooled slowly in the crisp night air. Seeing far further than he could as a human, he flung his stride out confidently, letting the night carry him to the respite he sought. Tail flagged behind him, he howled and gradually took the speed out of his lope, circling round in a large, languid loop back to his car and the scraggly tree spreading its branches above.

He paused, chest rising and falling lightly as he came to a stop, curling his toes into the dirt. The full moon hung suspended high above and he raised his muzzle in salutation, letting loose a long, forlorn howl that sent prey scurrying back into their burrows and the brumbies grazing miles away twitching their ears, wary of the predator. He spared a moment for a brief lick of his lips, imagining closing his teeth around the leg of one, harrying the equine until it gave up its fragile hold on life, but his time was already done.

As he cried out the last of his anger, the fur melting from his body like a second skin sloughing off, his muscles shrank. Allowing his shirt and shorts to drape more comfortably from his body, he briefly mourned the loss, standing barefoot before the moon with the glow of the lights from his home flickering in the distance.

All was calm. All was still. All was as it should be.

He exhaled slowly, letting the final drops of tension release from his chest as he leaned against the tree, a small smile playing across his lips.

It was always good to let the wolf out to play.