Chapter 1: Steam and Submission in the Locker Room
The air in the Olympus Iron locker room was a solid thing, a soup of sweat, cheap cologne, and something coppery that Percy’s brain, foggy from the beat of rep-heavy music, tried to place.Blood, maybe. Not theirs. The mirrors were fogged with steam, but in the patches that were clear, their reflections looked back—veins like corded ropes under skin, shoulders impossibly broad.
Percy flexed, watching the mountain of his bicep shift. “Check the peak, Frank. You seeing this?”
Frank was hunched on a bench, methodically shoveling vanilla-scented protein powder into his mouth with a scoop. He grunted, not looking up. His neck had gotten so thick he had to turn his whole torso to see you. “Good pump,” Frank managed, words thick around the chalky mouthful. “Need more. For the… the growth.”
Something prickled at the back of Percy’s skull, a whisper beneath the satisfying thrum of his own heartbeat. He looked past his own reflection, into the misted glass. For a second, he didn’t see himself. He saw older faces, frozen in the steam, their expressions vacant, jaws clenched in permanent, silent grunts. They were smiling, but their eyes were empty.
“You ever wonder where Jason went?” Percy asked, the sentence feeling strangely complex in his mouth. He frowned, trying to hold the thought. “Or Leo? They were… they were gonna meet us. Last week.”
Frank just blinked slowly. “Who?”
The prickling became a cold trickle. Percy shook his head, trying to clear the fog. The gym’s rhythm was insidious—the clang of weights, the thud of dropsets, the constant, bass-heavy synth track. It got inside your bones and pushed everything else out. Memories felt soft. Muscles felt good.Simple.
“We should go,” Percy said, the words an effort. “Find Annabeth. Tell her about the… the new max.”
Frank nodded, standing up. The bench creaked in relief. He moved with a strange, stiff gait, his arms unable to hang properly at his sides due to the sheer mass of his lats. They lumbered toward the locker room door, a pair of titans in sweat-soaked tanks.
The door was locked.
“Huh,” Percy grunted, rattling the handle.
From the shadowy corridor leading to the saunas, two of the gym attendants appeared. Percy knew their faces, their smiles. They were always there, flawless and encouraging, with tight shirts and knowing eyes. Their names never stuck.
“Leaving so soon, heroes?” the blonde one purred, leaning against the wall of lockers. “The night is young. Your potential is… untapped.”
“Door’s stuck,” Percy said.
The other, dark-haired attendant slid closer. He ran a appreciative hand over the cannonball curve of Percy’s shoulder. His touch was cool. “Stuck, or just waiting for you to understand what you really need?” His fingers trailed down Percy’s spine, tracing the deep groove. Percy felt a jolt, a wave of pure, uncomplicated pleasure that made his knees feel soft. “Look at this V-taper. A masterpiece. But it could be deeper. The lats could spread wider.”
Frank was breathing heavily beside him. The dark-haired attendant turned his attention there, placing both hands on Frank’s granite chest. “And you.Son of Mars. This density… it’s impressive. But imagine the striations.The separation. We could help you get so… so fucking thick.”
The blonde attendant was now pressed against Percy’s front, his hands sliding down to the waistband of Percy’s shorts. He looked up, his smile a promise. “You’re all wound up from the workout. All that blood, all that power. It needs a release. Don’t let it go to waste. Let us worship it.”
Percy’s mind was screaming, a distant, fading alarm. This was wrong.This was all wrong. But the attendant’s hands were on his hips, his breath warm against Percy’s neck, and the feeling was like nothing else—a pure, ego-burning adoration. It was better than any nectar. Frank was already moaning, a low, dumb sound, as the other attendant dropped to his knees in front of him, nuzzling against the pronounced bulge in his gym shorts.
“See?” the blonde whispered, his lips brushing Percy’s earlobe. “This is your purpose. To be magnificent. To be admired. Everything else is just noise. Your little wars, your little quests… they just make you small. This makes you a god.”
He sunk down, taking Percy fully into his hot, willing mouth. Percy’s head slammed back against a locker with a metallic bang. The world dissolved into a white-hot current of sensation. He watched, dazed, as Frank, eyes glazed over with dumb bliss, fisted a hand in the dark hair of the attendant servicing him, thrusting mindlessly forward.
The last coherent thought Percy had was that Annabeth would be so confused. Her face, sharp and intelligent, flickered in his mind. She’d ask questions. She’d want to talk.It seemed exhausting.
The blonde attendant pulled back, smiling up at him with wet lips. “Forget her. She can’t see what you’re becoming. We can. We want to help. Stay for one more session.Get truly huge. Let us take care of… everything.”
Perton—no, Percy—looked at Frank. Frank’s expression was one of simple, bovine contentment. He gave a slow, heavy nod. “One more session,” Frank slurred. “Need more protein.”
The cold trickle of fear was gone, evaporated under a sun of pure, worshipped sensation. Percy looked at his reflection in the foggy mirror. He saw the vacant, blissful grin on his own face, the eyes that held nothing but the pleasure of the now and the hunger for more.
He grinned back at it.
“Yeah,” he rasped, his voice already dropping back into a low grunt. “Spot me on the bench. I’m gonna go for a new PR.”