04-09-2026, 09:00 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-09-2026, 09:10 PM by SilverArrow. Edited 3 times in total. Edited 3 times in total.)
Chapter 16: The Tough Gym Day
2 days Later:
The steady drumming of rain against the balcony glass made the apartment feel completely detached from Sector 128. Rakesh had left early for his district audit, and by two in the afternoon, Monica had shut her laptop, completely done with her official calls. The lingering grey boredom settled fast. Looking at the empty hallway, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Ranga: . Was planning a proper workout! You wanna quickly join?
Ranga’s reply came back five minutes later: Give me an hour. I am still at the Registry office!”
Monica replied “Ok don’t get late”
When the doorbell chimed, Monica opened it to find Ranga standing in the doorway wearing a sleeveless black vest that stretched tight across his chest, making him look ominous and big. In each of his massive hands, he carried a heavy gym bag clanking with cast-iron dumbbells, a collapsible barbell, and extra weight plates.
"What is all this?" Monica asked, leaning against the doorframe with a raised eyebrow. "Are we opening an underground gym now?"
"You complained your light pink dumbbells weren't giving you results," Ranga grunted, stepping past her and heading straight for the spare room. "You can't build a proper frame with those tiny pink rubber dumbbells you keep in the corner, Madam”
"Those pink ones keep me in shape just fine Ranga Saab" Monica replied, following him in. She wore a tight grey sports tee and high-cut shorts that left the full, toned length of her thighs bare. Her hair was pulled back into a loose topknot, a few stray dark strands resting against her collarbone.
Ranga dropped the gear onto the floor with a dull thud, turning slowly to look her up and down. His gaze didn't rush; it moved from her bare waist up to her chest, where the grey fabric held her full breasts tightly.
"We'll see about that," Ranga said, pulling out a solid steel barbell .."Warm up. Goblet squats first. Go down. Deep"
Monica dropped into a low squat, her thighs coming parallel to the floor.
"You're stopping two inches high," Ranga murmured. Before she could rise, his heavy, warm hands settled firmly on her waist. His thumbs pressed into the small of her back, locking her in place at the bottom of the movement. "Hold it right there."
![[Image: 766182170_85008.png]](https://t3.pixhost.to/thumbs/5460/766182170_85008.png)
Monica gasped slightly at the sudden, firm grip “Its hurting now, I am getting up!”
"Not yet, I did not say that yet !” Ranga commanded
She pushed up, re-racking the kettlebell, her skin flushed and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. "You're a tyrant. My thighs are already aching by now!”
After the squats, Ranga ordered “ Lie down on your back now on the mat. QUICK!”
Monica laid down on her back, resting the padded barbell across her protruding soft ass. Ranga knelt beside her, bracing one broad palm firmly on her inner thigh to keep her knee from turning inward as he loaded an extra plate.
"That’s excessive, Ranga Anna," she said, looking up at him from the mat. "Are you trying to break me?"
" Just do as I say… don’t interrupt me.. You can handle it," he said
Monica drove her hips high into the air. The heavy movement forced her chest upward, the thin fabric of her top straining against her curves. As she held the position, Ranga’s hand didn't leave her thigh—in fact, his thumb moved slowly, deliberately pressing into the soft, naked skin just beneath the hem of her shorts.
"Hold at the top," he commanded. "Two seconds"
"I can’t hold more Ranga Anna…aahhh” Monica panted, her breath coming short, though she didn't pull away from his touch.
"I'm just making sure you do the work," Ranga said, his eyes dropping to where his thumb rested against her inner leg.
"Give a man a mirror and two dumbbells, and he thinks he's an Olympic trainer," Monica mocked with a playful smile
Ranga didn't step back. "Last set. Seated fold. Let's stretch out those hamstrings."
Monica sat up on the mat, extending her legs forward and reaching for her toes. Ranga sat directly behind her, his large frame straddling the mat. He leaned forward, his chest pressing lightly against her bare back, his hands sliding down her arms to guide her posture deeper down. The heat radiating off his body enveloped her completely.
"Deeper, Monica," he whispered close to her ear.
"If I go any deeper, I'm going to fall" she muttered, but she allowed him to push her further, letting out a low exhale.
His hands slowly shifted from her wrists, sliding up the sides of her arms to her waist, and then rising just enough for his fingers to graze the underside of her heavy tits through the damp fabric. He kept her pinned in the stretch, his touch firm, steady, and unhurried.
Monica’s eyes remained open, fixated on the wall mirror right in front of them. She watched his dark, heavy hands resting against her skin, a contrast which looked wrong and forbidden to the core.
Ranga loaded a heavier, solid-iron dumbbell and handed it to her with a low grunt.
"Single-arm rows," he ordered, “Brace your knee on the leather. Pull straight to your hip, not your shoulder."
Ranga stood uncomfortably close behind her, his large hand hovering just an inch off her lower back to monitor her form. "Hey…hey .More control on the way down, Monica. You’re dropping it too fast."
I’m not dropping it fast Please" she panted, her lips curling into a stubborn smile as she completed the eighth rep.
After she finished, Ranga took the heavy dumbbell from her hand. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached down, grabbed the hem of his vest, and peeled it over his head in one motion. He didn't pause. Holding the heavy dumbbell in his right hand, Ranga began curling the iron with a steady, effortless rhythm—The thick veins across his bicep stood out like ropes under his skin. He knocked out fifteen crisp, flawless repetitions
Monica leaned against the wall mirror, one hand resting on her waist as she watched him work.
"Showing off now, are you?" she teased,
"These took years to build, Monica ji for your information!”
"I could see that" she smirked softly.
"I built most of this inside."
Monica’s eyebrows lifted, her curious gaze lingering on his broad torso. "Inside?"
"Jail," he said flatly, “Four years. There's nothing else to do in there except lift whatever scrap iron they let you have and make sure you don't go soft. You either stay strong, or you become someone else’s problem."
"That must be difficult no?" she asked softly, her eyes holding his in the mirror's reflection.
Ranga didn't pull away. He let her hand stay right where it was on his bare triceps, feeling the heat of her touch. "Loud. Boring. Political," he murmured. "You learn real fast who to stand next to and who to ignore. The food was garbage. The sleep was worse. The only thing in that place for me was the routine—wake up and work out and think of business plans when I will be out”
Monica kept her palm resting against his skin for a lingering second longer before slowly letting her hand drop back to her side. she murmured, a faint smirk returning to her lips. "No wonder you're so ruthless now."
When they finally called a halt, Monica let out a long exhale, rolling her shoulders and wincing with theatrical dramatic flair.
"Ahhh…God, everything hurts," she groaned, touching the top of her neck and right shoulder "Especially right here in the shoulder. You’re an absolute sadist, Ranga Anna.
Ranga picked up a small towel from his bag and wiped his face and neck. "It’ll settle by tomorrow morning. Your body just needs to calm down."
Monica tilted her head. "I don't have time until tomorrow morning. I have a dinner tonight with my college gang. If I show up moving like an old lady, Neha will never let me live it down."
Ranga paused, looking at her flushed face and damp hair. "You actually have a dinner tonight?"
"Yes .Baba …Neha’s in-laws are visiting Delhi," Monica explained, leaning back against the wall to catch her breath. "She invited the old group over. I said yes long before I knew you’d try to kill me with your exercise regime”
Ranga was quiet for a moment. "I have a solution for that."
"What solution?"
"Eucalyptus oil," Ranga said simply. "Proper, raw stuff from Tamil Forests. Cuts through muscle pain better than any chemical ointment you buy at the chemist. We use it on the site after heavy labor."
Monica hesitated, picking up her water bottle and taking a slow sip. "I can just spray some Volini or put a heat patch on it."
Ranga shook his head firmly. "Ointments just sit on the top layer of skin. This oil goes deep into the muscle tissue. It’s sticky as hell, but it works instantly. Only way to make it absorb right is a proper, hard massage."
Monica studied his broad, shirtless frame, still flushed from the brutal workout and feeling the lingering heat radiating between them. "Do you even have that oil with you?"
"It’s at my place," Ranga said, gesturing toward the balcony
Monica gave a small, reluctant nod. "Fine. Go bring it. But don’t get any ideas, Ranga Anna... it’s strictly for my shoulders."
"Five minutes," he repeated, his deep voice carrying a quiet, unmistakable weight as he stepped out into the hallway.
![[Image: 766182718_85022.png]](https://t3.pixhost.to/thumbs/5460/766182718_85022.png)
2 days Later:
The steady drumming of rain against the balcony glass made the apartment feel completely detached from Sector 128. Rakesh had left early for his district audit, and by two in the afternoon, Monica had shut her laptop, completely done with her official calls. The lingering grey boredom settled fast. Looking at the empty hallway, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Ranga: . Was planning a proper workout! You wanna quickly join?
Ranga’s reply came back five minutes later: Give me an hour. I am still at the Registry office!”
Monica replied “Ok don’t get late”
When the doorbell chimed, Monica opened it to find Ranga standing in the doorway wearing a sleeveless black vest that stretched tight across his chest, making him look ominous and big. In each of his massive hands, he carried a heavy gym bag clanking with cast-iron dumbbells, a collapsible barbell, and extra weight plates.
"What is all this?" Monica asked, leaning against the doorframe with a raised eyebrow. "Are we opening an underground gym now?"
"You complained your light pink dumbbells weren't giving you results," Ranga grunted, stepping past her and heading straight for the spare room. "You can't build a proper frame with those tiny pink rubber dumbbells you keep in the corner, Madam”
"Those pink ones keep me in shape just fine Ranga Saab" Monica replied, following him in. She wore a tight grey sports tee and high-cut shorts that left the full, toned length of her thighs bare. Her hair was pulled back into a loose topknot, a few stray dark strands resting against her collarbone.
Ranga dropped the gear onto the floor with a dull thud, turning slowly to look her up and down. His gaze didn't rush; it moved from her bare waist up to her chest, where the grey fabric held her full breasts tightly.
"We'll see about that," Ranga said, pulling out a solid steel barbell .."Warm up. Goblet squats first. Go down. Deep"
Monica dropped into a low squat, her thighs coming parallel to the floor.
"You're stopping two inches high," Ranga murmured. Before she could rise, his heavy, warm hands settled firmly on her waist. His thumbs pressed into the small of her back, locking her in place at the bottom of the movement. "Hold it right there."
![[Image: 766182170_85008.png]](https://pixhost.to/show/5460/766182170_85008.png)
Monica gasped slightly at the sudden, firm grip “Its hurting now, I am getting up!”
"Not yet, I did not say that yet !” Ranga commanded
She pushed up, re-racking the kettlebell, her skin flushed and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. "You're a tyrant. My thighs are already aching by now!”
After the squats, Ranga ordered “ Lie down on your back now on the mat. QUICK!”
Monica laid down on her back, resting the padded barbell across her protruding soft ass. Ranga knelt beside her, bracing one broad palm firmly on her inner thigh to keep her knee from turning inward as he loaded an extra plate.
"That’s excessive, Ranga Anna," she said, looking up at him from the mat. "Are you trying to break me?"
" Just do as I say… don’t interrupt me.. You can handle it," he said
Monica drove her hips high into the air. The heavy movement forced her chest upward, the thin fabric of her top straining against her curves. As she held the position, Ranga’s hand didn't leave her thigh—in fact, his thumb moved slowly, deliberately pressing into the soft, naked skin just beneath the hem of her shorts.
"Hold at the top," he commanded. "Two seconds"
"I can’t hold more Ranga Anna…aahhh” Monica panted, her breath coming short, though she didn't pull away from his touch.
"I'm just making sure you do the work," Ranga said, his eyes dropping to where his thumb rested against her inner leg.
"Give a man a mirror and two dumbbells, and he thinks he's an Olympic trainer," Monica mocked with a playful smile
Ranga didn't step back. "Last set. Seated fold. Let's stretch out those hamstrings."
Monica sat up on the mat, extending her legs forward and reaching for her toes. Ranga sat directly behind her, his large frame straddling the mat. He leaned forward, his chest pressing lightly against her bare back, his hands sliding down her arms to guide her posture deeper down. The heat radiating off his body enveloped her completely.
"Deeper, Monica," he whispered close to her ear.
"If I go any deeper, I'm going to fall" she muttered, but she allowed him to push her further, letting out a low exhale.
His hands slowly shifted from her wrists, sliding up the sides of her arms to her waist, and then rising just enough for his fingers to graze the underside of her heavy tits through the damp fabric. He kept her pinned in the stretch, his touch firm, steady, and unhurried.
Monica’s eyes remained open, fixated on the wall mirror right in front of them. She watched his dark, heavy hands resting against her skin, a contrast which looked wrong and forbidden to the core.
Ranga loaded a heavier, solid-iron dumbbell and handed it to her with a low grunt.
"Single-arm rows," he ordered, “Brace your knee on the leather. Pull straight to your hip, not your shoulder."
Ranga stood uncomfortably close behind her, his large hand hovering just an inch off her lower back to monitor her form. "Hey…hey .More control on the way down, Monica. You’re dropping it too fast."
I’m not dropping it fast Please" she panted, her lips curling into a stubborn smile as she completed the eighth rep.
After she finished, Ranga took the heavy dumbbell from her hand. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached down, grabbed the hem of his vest, and peeled it over his head in one motion. He didn't pause. Holding the heavy dumbbell in his right hand, Ranga began curling the iron with a steady, effortless rhythm—The thick veins across his bicep stood out like ropes under his skin. He knocked out fifteen crisp, flawless repetitions
Monica leaned against the wall mirror, one hand resting on her waist as she watched him work.
"Showing off now, are you?" she teased,
"These took years to build, Monica ji for your information!”
"I could see that" she smirked softly.
"I built most of this inside."
Monica’s eyebrows lifted, her curious gaze lingering on his broad torso. "Inside?"
"Jail," he said flatly, “Four years. There's nothing else to do in there except lift whatever scrap iron they let you have and make sure you don't go soft. You either stay strong, or you become someone else’s problem."
"That must be difficult no?" she asked softly, her eyes holding his in the mirror's reflection.
Ranga didn't pull away. He let her hand stay right where it was on his bare triceps, feeling the heat of her touch. "Loud. Boring. Political," he murmured. "You learn real fast who to stand next to and who to ignore. The food was garbage. The sleep was worse. The only thing in that place for me was the routine—wake up and work out and think of business plans when I will be out”
Monica kept her palm resting against his skin for a lingering second longer before slowly letting her hand drop back to her side. she murmured, a faint smirk returning to her lips. "No wonder you're so ruthless now."
When they finally called a halt, Monica let out a long exhale, rolling her shoulders and wincing with theatrical dramatic flair.
"Ahhh…God, everything hurts," she groaned, touching the top of her neck and right shoulder "Especially right here in the shoulder. You’re an absolute sadist, Ranga Anna.
Ranga picked up a small towel from his bag and wiped his face and neck. "It’ll settle by tomorrow morning. Your body just needs to calm down."
Monica tilted her head. "I don't have time until tomorrow morning. I have a dinner tonight with my college gang. If I show up moving like an old lady, Neha will never let me live it down."
Ranga paused, looking at her flushed face and damp hair. "You actually have a dinner tonight?"
"Yes .Baba …Neha’s in-laws are visiting Delhi," Monica explained, leaning back against the wall to catch her breath. "She invited the old group over. I said yes long before I knew you’d try to kill me with your exercise regime”
Ranga was quiet for a moment. "I have a solution for that."
"What solution?"
"Eucalyptus oil," Ranga said simply. "Proper, raw stuff from Tamil Forests. Cuts through muscle pain better than any chemical ointment you buy at the chemist. We use it on the site after heavy labor."
Monica hesitated, picking up her water bottle and taking a slow sip. "I can just spray some Volini or put a heat patch on it."
Ranga shook his head firmly. "Ointments just sit on the top layer of skin. This oil goes deep into the muscle tissue. It’s sticky as hell, but it works instantly. Only way to make it absorb right is a proper, hard massage."
Monica studied his broad, shirtless frame, still flushed from the brutal workout and feeling the lingering heat radiating between them. "Do you even have that oil with you?"
"It’s at my place," Ranga said, gesturing toward the balcony
Monica gave a small, reluctant nod. "Fine. Go bring it. But don’t get any ideas, Ranga Anna... it’s strictly for my shoulders."
"Five minutes," he repeated, his deep voice carrying a quiet, unmistakable weight as he stepped out into the hallway.
![[Image: 766182718_85022.png]](https://pixhost.to/show/5460/766182718_85022.png)
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