Ten Years Underground
Just a few days ago, in the basement of a small house, there lived a man—completely naked, with a body made entirely of muscle. His physique looked like steel, glistening under the dim light. Every muscle clung tightly to his body like diamonds fused into his skin—massive, dense, and perfect.
His head was clean-shaven into a sharp crew cut.
His name… was Dave.
“Ten years… Just like that, ten years are gone,” he muttered, clenching his fist.
Dave gently pushed open the basement door. A beam of sunlight shot into the darkness, blindingly bright. He raised one hand to shield his eyes.
“I haven’t taken a single step out of this basement for a decade. I haven’t breathed fresh air… haven’t felt real sunlight.”
His voice was steady, but filled with intensity.
“For ten years, I’ve had only one purpose—to get stronger.”
“Every day, I trained. I trained my biceps, triceps, abs, chest, glutes… every single muscle on my body.”
Now, as sunlight gleamed across his mountainous form, he took a deep breath and declared:
“I’m back.”
Then he paused. Something felt… off.
He looked down.
He was still naked.
Oh right.
He hadn’t worn clothes in years. Every piece of fabric he once owned had been shredded during training. Slowly, one by one, they disintegrated from sweat, friction, and sheer muscle mass—until even his last pair of underwear gave out during a heavy squat session.
But he never cared.
“Training’s more comfortable without clothes anyway. Sweating feels cleaner, cooler, more natural.”
Still, he was going outside now.
And walking around the street completely naked wasn’t really an option.
He looked up—and spotted something.
A pink triangle-shaped women’s underwear was hanging from a neighbor’s balcony.
The moment he saw it, his eyes widened.
That… was his favorite kind of underwear.
Without hesitation, he climbed up like a beast. One leap, then another—
He reached the balcony, grabbed the panties gently, and slipped them on.
They were a bit tight.
But honestly… they looked fantastic on him.
The snug fit accentuated his massive muscles, showcasing his raw masculinity in the most unexpected way.
After acquiring the Triangle Women’s Underwear,
he walked confidently toward the street, each step firm and proud.
But what Dave didn’t realize—
was that in the ten years he’d spent locked in that basement…
The world had changed.
A Strange New World
Dave stepped out onto the street for the first time in ten years.
What he saw… was bizarre.
Everyone he passed had their heads down, staring at little glowing rectangles in their hands. Their fingers slid and tapped across the screens nonstop, like they were hypnotized. Dave squinted.
“What the hell are these things? Are they phones… or miniature computers?”
He kept walking.
Then he noticed something even stranger—
The men on the street didn’t really look like men anymore.
Many had long, flowing hair. Some bleached their hair blonde. Their skin was pale, their bodies thin. Some wore makeup. A few even wore skirts.
Dave paused, frowning in confusion.
It made his stomach twist a little.
But he shrugged.
“Whatever. Not my business.”
Then, something even more unsettling:
An old man—probably in his seventies or eighties—was strolling down the sidewalk, hand in hand with a girl who looked barely twenty. The man wore a faded railroad worker’s uniform, like something straight out of the 1950s—worn-out overalls, dusty boots, and a cap that looked like it had survived a century.
Now and then, the girl would turn to him with a soft giggle and kiss his wrinkled cheek.
Dave stared in disbelief.
“So people are into grandpa-granddaughter romances now?”
He walked on, but things just got weirder.
He saw someone in a hoodie peeing against a lamppost, fully out in the open, totally shameless.
Someone else strutted past wearing a Chinese flag as a cape, like it was Comic-Con.
And there was a man in a Zhongshan suit, head wrapped in pantyhose, creeping behind buildings and peeking at passing women like a cartoon villain.
Dave stopped, took it all in, and slowly nodded to himself.
“…Yeah. Ten years really passed. The world has gotten weird.”
But the weirdest part wasn’t any of the people he just saw.
No—it was the fact that nobody reacted.
Everyone just kept walking, swiping their screens, scrolling their phones, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
As if all this madness… was completely normal now.
Dave looked down, then to his own hands. He whispered to himself:
“It doesn’t matter. Now I… I possess absolute power.”
He picked up a small stone from the pavement.
With a slow, steady squeeze—
CRACK.
The rock crumbled into dust in his fist.
The powder drifted away with the wind.
The Rise of “The Underwear”
Dave wandered from gym to gym, dojo to dojo, even stepped into a few kung fu academies and athletic clubs.
And everywhere he went—chaos followed.
People inside were left groaning on the floor, limbs twisted, some crashing through windows, others embedded halfway into crumbling walls. A few were even launched straight out the front door like ragdolls, screaming midair.
In just one day, Dave had crushed ten locations.
Every time he stepped out of one, the scene behind him was a mess of cracked tiles, broken bodies, and shattered pride.
Outside the tenth place, Dave shook his head slowly.
“Too weak. Every single one of them went down with just one punch.”
He looked at his own fist.
“Maybe… maybe I’ve become too strong. Maybe I’m now… the strongest person on Earth.”
Just as he was soaking in the moment, a small-time gangster strolled by, smoking a cigarette. The thug noticed Dave walking toward him—shirtless, muscles rippling, and unmistakably wearing a tight pair of pinkish women’s triangle underwear.
He smirked.
“Hey, loser,” the thug said, blowing out smoke. “What kinda grown-ass man walks around wearing pink panties? That’s hilarious, bro.”
Dave didn’t flinch.
He just kept walking.
The thug stepped directly into his path.
“You hear me? I’m talkin’ to you, princess. What’s your name, muscle clown?”
Dave calmly stopped, looked him in the eye, and said:
“I’m the strongest man in the world.”
The thug scoffed, “Hah! Well, I’m the strongest man on this street. So why don’t you—”
BOOM.
A gentle-looking punch from Dave sent the thug flying—launched from one end of the block to the other, screaming as he crashed into a pile of garbage bags at the far corner of the street.
He didn’t move again.
People nearby screamed and scattered. Someone caught the moment on their phone.
And just like that—
Dave’s legend exploded across the city.
Everyone was talking about him.
Not just the insane strength. Not just the clean punches.
But that ridiculous pink triangle underwear.
Memes spread. Hashtags trended. Rumors flew.
People didn’t even know his real name.
They just started calling him…
“The Underwear.”
The Curse of Power
For eight… no, ten straight days, Dave continued his rampage—going from gym to gym, dojo to dojo, challenging every fighter he could find.
And yet…
Not a single one of them posed a threat.
There were no battles. No real exchanges.
Just one punch. That’s all it ever took.
One punch. Every time.
Dave would return home each night completely untouched—no bruises, no scrapes, not even a drop of sweat on his massive, polished muscles.
He’d splash cold water on his face, stare into the mirror, and think:
“Is this really what I wanted?
To be the strongest man on Earth…
Is this what it feels like?”
There were no rivals. No excitement. No meaning.
Just endless domination.
And for the first time… he started to feel something he never expected:
Regret.
He had become too strong. So strong that even combat—the thing he trained for ten years to pursue—no longer gave him joy.
He felt… bored.
One day, at a traditional dojo, Dave challenged the headmaster to a fight. But this time, he made a choice:
He didn’t fight back.
He stood completely still, arms at his sides, feet planted.
The headmaster attacked him with everything he had. Fists, kicks, elbows—hundreds of strikes over the course of ten… maybe fifteen minutes.
Dave didn’t block a single blow.
He didn’t even blink.
And yet—nothing happened to him.
Eventually, the headmaster’s punches slowed. Then stopped. He fell to his knees, gasping, trembling.
And suddenly… the man burst into tears.
Dave looked down at him and asked calmly,
“What’s wrong, Master?”
The man clutched his arms, sobbing.
“My bones… they’re all broken.
I’ve thrown everything at you…
But your body—it’s untouched. Not a single bruise. Not a scratch.
Your muscles… they’re still so smooth…”
Dave slowly reached out and helped the man to his feet.
“You did well,” he said softly.
“After all… I’m the strongest man on Earth.
But you—you’re already very strong.
You should be proud of yourself.”
The dojo master stared at him in awe, eyes wide with emotion.
That night, the man couldn’t sleep at all.
He just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trembling with excitement—haunted and inspired by the words of The Underwear.
Where It All Began
Dave stepped into a supermarket.
He wasn’t looking for a fight this time.
Just groceries.
Some greens, maybe a few eggs.
But as he stood there holding a bag of onions, his mind drifted away.
A memory hit him—ten years ago.
It was evening, just like now.
Back then, Dave wasn’t strong. He was just a regular guy, walking out of a supermarket with a bag of instant noodles in one hand and a cheap drink in the other.
That’s when he appeared.
A man in a half-buttoned shirt, showing off his manly chest.
Long bangs covered one eye, and a single silver earring sparkled in the dusk light.
He looked like the small-time squad leader of some local gang—young, cocky, and cruel.
He didn’t say a word.
He just walked up to Dave… and slapped him across the face. Then again. And again.
“Hand over your money,” the thug said lazily.
Dave had always believed in justice.
Even back then, though weak, he had guts.
He clenched his fist, raised it, and threw a punch.
But that punch never landed.
The thug caught it mid-air with ease, used Dave’s own momentum, and slammed him to the ground with a sickening thud.
Dave’s back snapped—he felt something inside him break.
He coughed up blood.
Then the guy started stomping on his chest.
Over and over.
Finally, he picked Dave up, turned him upside down, and piledrived his head straight into the sidewalk.
Dave blacked out.
He woke up in a hospital, barely alive.
All his money was gone.
But something inside him had changed forever.
That night, lying in a hospital bed, he made a vow—not just for revenge, but for transformation.
“I will become the strongest man in the world.
I will make sure everyone knows my name.”
And now… ten years later…
He had done it.
He was stronger than anyone.
He was feared, respected, even worshipped in some corners of the city.
But there was one problem.
“The Underwear.”
That’s what people were calling him now.
It was on the news, printed in the papers, going viral online.
“The Underwear.”
He winced just thinking about it.
“This… isn’t really the name I wanted,” he muttered to himself, placing the onions in his basket.
Too late.
The city had already decided.
And changing it now?
Might be harder than becoming the strongest man alive.
One Punch… Again?
It was nighttime.
Dave lay alone on a worn-out couch, staring at the ceiling, doing absolutely nothing.
He had nothing else to do.
No one to fight.
No one left to defeat.
No goal, no challenge.
Just… him and a bag of frozen dumplings slowly thawing on the table.
He grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV.
Click. Commercial.
Click. Drama.
Click. Some guy crying on a talk show.
Click—
Anime.
He blinked.
It was some kind of Japanese cartoon.
He was about to change the channel again, but paused.
The animation was surprisingly intense.
On screen was a bald man—ordinary-looking, wearing a plain yellow suit—with a deadpan expression on his face.
And yet, somehow, this man was beating monsters with a single punch.
Dave sat up slightly.
“…Huh.”
The next scene played:
The bald man obliterated a city-sized creature with one clean hit.
No tension. No buildup. Just boom—done.
Dave furrowed his brow.
He turned up the volume.
The more he watched, the more he leaned forward.
Episode after episode, it was the same thing:
This man, this hero, destroying every opponent with exactly one punch.
And the strangest part?
The bald guy looked bored.
Miserable, even.
Everyone else feared or admired him, but he… didn’t care.
Dave’s expression slowly flattened.
His jaw tightened.
He sat completely still, staring at the screen.
“…Is this… me?”
He watched as the anime character sat at home, watching TV, sighing with existential exhaustion.
“Being too strong is boring.”
Dave lowered the remote.
The screen faded to black.
A commercial came on for dish soap.
He didn’t change the channel.
He just sat there, silently.
For the first time in his life…
He felt understood.