By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter Four: The Gift

The carnival rolled from one town to the next, and I was usually so tired by Showtime that I didn’t really notice the crowds were getting thinner in every town.  I continued to wear my Collar as a mark of pride. Viktor’s training, once grueling and punishing, started to feel more like a challenge. We worked out together, side by side, pushing each other to the limit. It wasn’t about pain anymore. It was about strength. It was about earning something more than just muscle — it was about respect.

Viktor was no longer just my mentor; he had become a kind of partner in all of this. We’d work with the roustabouts in the mornings, hauling crates, setting up tents, lifting heavy carnival equipment. Viktor always made sure to encourage me, watching me carefully as I struggled with the same things the other men did. But he always pushed me to go further, to lift heavier, to show the others I could do it just as well as they could.

“Lift it!” he’d shout with a grin, watching me struggle with a large piece of equipment. “That’s how you show them. No weakness. You’ve got this.”

I loved the way he cheered me on. I wasn’t just lifting for myself anymore; I was lifting for him too, to show that I was worthy of his Training.

And then there were the kettle bell workouts.

Gone were the grueling, endless hours of punishment for every misstep. Instead, Viktor started treating the weightlifting like a game. We’d compete to see who could lift the heaviest, who could do the most reps, who could show the most form. There was no anger, no punishment — just the thrill of lifting, the satisfaction of muscles straining and growing. The adrenaline.  The Pump. The fire in Viktor’s eyes, that same determination he had when he first took me in, was now reflected in mine. We were partners in this, both pushing each other to new heights.

One evening, after a particularly intense workout where we both had pushed our limits, Viktor clapped me on the shoulder.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said, a rare tenderness in his voice.

I raised an eyebrow as he reached down and pulled out a rough, wooden box from under his bedroll. It wasn’t much to look at — plain, unpolished wood — but there was something about it that made me curious.

“Here,” Viktor said, handing it to me. “Open it.”

I took the box from his hands and slowly lifted the lid. Immediately, the rich, sweet scent of freshly tanned leather hit me. The smell was intoxicating, like it belonged to something ancient and strong.

Inside the box lay a brand new lifting belt, just like the one Viktor wears when he works out. It was thick, heavy brown leather, perfectly crafted, with brass buckles and reinforced with rivets. The edges were clean and well-finished, and the leather was soft to the touch but firm, the kind of quality you could tell was built to last.

“It’s from the leatherworker in the last town,” Viktor said, his voice low and steady. “I had it made for you. You’re becoming a strongman. You should look like one.”

I picked up the belt, running my fingers along its surface. It felt… It felt like it was truly mine, like it was meant to be worn by me. Something about it, the weight of it in my hands, made me feel more powerful, more accepted. It wasn’t just a belt. It was a symbol. It was Viktor’s acknowledgment that I had earned my place.

I slid it around my waist and buckled it, the leather fitting snugly against me. It was like stepping into another part of myself — another level of commitment. The weight of it was grounding, like it tied me to everything Viktor had taught me.  Then I noticed it — the hasp similar to the one that locked on my Collar.  I looked at Viktor quizzically.

“I’m the one who should decide when your Workout is over; when it’s time for you to take off the Belt.  Don’t you think?”  Before I could answer he pulled another padlock from the box, looped it through the hasp, and snapped it shut.  The Belt was now locked on until he decided otherwise.  “Don’t worry, I won’t be having you wear it to bed.  Unless you want to.” He gave me one of his mischievous winks.

I stood up, flexing my arms and feeling the tightness of the belt against around my waist. It felt so right. For the first time since I had met Viktor, I felt like an equal — like I wasn’t just his apprentice anymore, but his partner, his equal. I had worked for this, fought for it, and now, finally, I was becoming what I had always dreamed of.

Viktor stood up as well, watching me closely. There was no smile on his face this time, but there was something in his eyes — approval. Respect.

“Well?” he asked, his voice gruff but somehow proud. “How’s it feel?”

I looked at him, feeling a surge of gratitude, and then I grinned. “It feels perfect.”

Viktor gave me a nod, the smallest hint of a smile crossing his lips. “Good. Now let’s get to work. Strongman.”