I'm gonna reveal something deeply personal and mildly embarrassing. It's even something a little graphic, so prepare yourself.

Ready?

I don't look that good naked.

On a normal day, this doesn't bother me. I'm not out of shape, and I don't gain weight easily. Perks.

But if you shrunk me down and painted me brown, you'd be like, “Oh, what a peculiar-looking stick bug.”

That's how I would describe my physical form. I'm skinny. A beanpole. My grandmother said I have a hollow leg. No idea what that means, but that's what she said.

Because I'm not fat and don't have to watch my weight, I consider myself lucky when it comes to my body.

But here's where I don't consider myself lucky.

Go up to a woman and ask her what she likes on a man.

A nice set of abs.

Girthy biceps.

Firm pecs.

A v-cut.

Of these features, I have none, which might be why women don't wanna date me.

Innocent as dates may be at first, eventually, things are gonna head to the bedroom, where they'll heat up, and women want their man's body to their liking. If they didn't care, they wouldn't bother undressing the man during foreplay and would otherwise just unzip his fly so his member can get to work.

Looking at me with my clothes on, it's easy to tell I can't rip my sleeves off by flexing, so women, not wanting to grind against a beanpole with a hollow leg, steer clear of me.

It irks me a bit, but I totally understand. I want my lady to look as good without clothes as she does in clothes. It's only fair that women have the same expectation of men.

That's why I'm gonna get buff.

I bought myself a gym membership, and every day from now on, I'll be working out to transform myself into the sexy beast I need to be.

My first thought when I set foot in the gym is, That's a lot of treadmills. For real, where'd they get so many treadmills? There must be thirty in a line, and then there's two more rows topping that. I've never seen so many treadmills in my life! They buy out every treadmill in the power grid before opening this joint? Can't imagine how big that bill must've been. Manufacturer's rolling in dough.

What to do first, what to do? Should I hop on one of the thousand treadmills, or should I be unique and hit up something else? If the end goal's to get buff, it makes sense to touch base with everything, so it shouldn't matter where I start, so long as I start.

That escalator thing looks...exhausting...Going up the steps at the hospital wipes me out, especially when I'm loaded up on bags, so climbing up that will probably put me in cardiac arrest. I'll work my way up to that.

For now, I'll do the uninspired thing and start on the treadmill. These are set up in the back, so it should be a good way of scouting out the place and planning out my routine.

I pick the one in the far corner and step on. Now...

How the hell does this thing work?

Does a treadmill really need so many buttons? I thought it would be the power button and two arrows to set the speed. Why in the world is there a timer? Is that for when I wanna get a quick jog in when the oven's going and I wanna make sure I don't get so caught up in running that my grub burns?

Let's see...This is the power button, and this is...

Long story short, I figure it out. The designer was kind enough to design this thing so that I can ease into my run rather than turn it on and frantically start a marathon. It even has an incline feature, which tilts the tread to simulate walking on a slope. Neat.

I'm walking. Moving my legs under me. Doing good. I can do with a little more speed...This should be good.

“...”

Wow, running in place is...boring. They got TVs, but they're so far away and tuned to the news. Why the hell would I wanna watch the news? Unless they're announcing the next Tales game, I couldn't care less who said what to who.

I brought my MP3, but that doesn't help the fact that my eyeballs have nothing to look at besides sweaty people nearly popping a vein on one of the machines. Keep at it, slim. You'll be able to pull it off no sweat. Literally.

Probably should've brought my tablet so that I can watch YouTube videos. This treadmill's got a hill simulation mode and an oven timer, but the one feature it's dying for is a stand for my tablet. Raise that thing to my eye level, set my tablet on it, and voila! Boredom's panacea. Wonder if I should invest in a selfie stick and lean that against the treadmill with my phone popped in.

From the corner of my eye I see a woman approaching. Older woman, a bit overweight, whatever. No biggie, sister. That's what we're at the gym for, right? Right.

Wrong. Well, right, but what she's doing is wrong.

Alllll these treadmills, and know which one she jumps on? Two treadmills down. There's a one-treadmill gap between us, and that's too close for me, sister.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

She doesn't even have the decency to be good-looking. Not that she can help how she looks, but it only figures that the woman who would come within talking range isn't somebody I'd consider dating.

What do I do if she starts talking to me? I don't wanna talk to her. The hell am I gonna talk to a middle-aged woman about? The curtains I hang up? They're blackout curtains. Great for keeping the sun's glare off my television screen.

“...”

This is making me uncomfortable. Don't people know what personal boundaries are? There's a bubble around me, and she's invading it. I bet if she was a dude and she entered a bathroom where someone was already taking a piss, she'd hit up the urinal right next to him. Doesn't matter if there's two urinals or twenty. It's an unspoken rule in the men's bathroom that when a urinal's occupied, you do not, under any circumstances, use the one right beside it. Minimally, there should be a one-urinal distance between you and the other pisser, but when possible, the more urinals, the better. Just like now. There's a boatload of treadmills available, so a one-treadmill distance does not satisfy. Piss off, lady.

Is there a reason she's stationed herself right here? She my aunt or something? I sneak a peek at her to see, but nope. Just some random stranger.

So, what? She going through a tough time and needs someone to vent to? Sorry, lady, but I got my own problems. No vacancy at the confession box.

“...”

That's it. I've had it. Not only am I bored with this running in place, I'm paranoid about what this lady's scheming. Wonder if I can turn the tables by Light Speeding out of here. That's not a bad idea, actually...

I leave the machine running, hop on the treadmill she should've gotten on in the first place, all the way at the other end, and watch for her reaction.

She notices that I've vanished into thin air, but she doesn't freak out like I was hoping. It's just a look-around and confused face like Huh? I could've sworn someone was there...

After a minute, she does catch on to where I've moved and is more confused now than before.

Not bad. Not a bad response. But let's up the ante, shall we? I wanna see how big of a bang I can get from her.

I leave this treadmill for one in the row ahead, a few machines toward her. That puts me just enough into her field of vision that she'll sure as hell notice me popping up. Now, for her reaction...

Oh yeah. She's getting spooked, all right. Could've sworn I was at a different treadmill, right? Were your eyes deceiving you? Is your memory going in your old age?

This is too good. I have to Light Speed just to keep her from noticing my snickering.

Now that I've got her on edge, about time for the climax to my prank. Can you predict what I'm gonna do? I think it's fairly obvious by this point. Think back to what kickstarted this whole mind-mess. You've been getting yourself a good workout, lady. I think you've earned yourself a dessert—your just desserts!

“♪ Oh, this mountain of sweets and treats that I long to eats... ♪”

No idea why I'm singing Annette, but can't you tell I'm in a swell mood? If I'd known working out was this much fun, I'd've come here years ago. I'd be one hot piece of stud already.

I step onto the treadmill beside her, go to turn it on—

Wait—!

Isn't this too obvious of a prank? Teleporting around like I'm Dark Mind from Kirby & The Amazing Mirror? It'll get a great reaction, sure, but I'm having the time of my life. I don't want things to end with her screaming and falling off the treadmill. That'd be funny, but we can play around some more, see what sorts of other reactions we can get out of her.

I reach over and dial up her speed setting. Not by a whole lot, just slightly faster. Something she'll notice but won't be too alarmed by.

The setup's done, so now it's payoff time. Or payback time, I should say. I set myself up in her blindside and watch.

“??”

She's definitely noticed. Her brow's furrowed, and she's looking at the settings like, Huh? Did I do that?

Nope, that was me. All me. Guilty as charged.

She's keeping up with the added speed just fine. Let's make this brisk walk into a light jog, yeah?

“?!”

Ah, the panicking's starting to set in now. It's all over her face. I can imagine what she's thinking, word-for-word.

What's happening?! Is this treadmill broken??

Not at all. It's working precisely as intended. See? I push this button to make it go faster, and that's what it does. In perfect working condition.

I haven't run this fast in twenty years!!

That's it! Work it, girl! Keep this up and those pounds will shed off!

“This treadmill's haunted!”

That's right. I'm a ghost. Boo, motherfucker.

You know, she could lower the speed so that she's not running at full clip, but the panicked mind is not an intelligent mind. Or maybe she's not intelligent in general. Given how unaware of social convention she is, that's the most definite explanation.

Wailing the way she is attracts attention, and an employee comes over to try and help her.

“Stop this crazy thiiiiing!!”

Her wish is his command. He turns the machine off.

And I turn it back on.

They can turn it off, but never did I say I wouldn't reset the speed. An evil bastard, aren't I?

Now the employee's like, Huh?! Why didn't that do anything?! He hits the power button again—several more times, in fact—and I undo his efforts. Since there's a delay between when he powers off the treadmill and I go Light Speed to turn it back on, it looks like the machine's being an obstinate bitch. Don't you turn me off! If I wanna be on, I'll be on! it'd be saying.

“Ma'am, you're going to have to get off the treadmill. Can you straddle the sides so that your feet are no longer on the mat?”

“I can't! You have to turn this thing off! Unplug it! Something!”

“I'll be back!” Her shouting seemed to give the employee some idea. These things don't run on human fear, so there's a plug somewhere. Probably runs under the floorboards. If he can't reach it, there's always the circuit breaker.

Better hurry, though, guy. Who can say how much longer this lady will last? She looks like her heart's about to explode. All this exercise is bad for her health.

I should do something. Elsa was giving me grief the other day about using my powers for the greater good. What would she say if I told her I saw an older lady stuck on a haunted treadmill and just stood there busting a gut?

I suppose it can behoove me to help this lady out.

I step onto the treadmill beside her so that I can reach the power button and—

“Hi.”

“AAAAAAAAAAA—”

Quite the pair of lungs you got on you, lady. You demanded that something be done. It's not my fault that you didn't specify what. So I took it upon myself to pop up beside her with Lightspeed. Helped her get off the treadmill. She might need a team of bodybuilders to lift her off the floor, but we're at the right place for that.

I know I said I was skipping out on popping up beside her, but this prank wasn't complete until it ended with a bang of some sort, plus I wanted to get my revenge in some way. This finale was the only finale.

Oh, right. Wasn't I supposed to be working out?