From Bruiser to Loser, Part 3

Friday, March 26

Bruiser awoke and looked at his clock. 2:12pm.

“Fuck, I slept way too long,” he thought.

He got up, shaved, brushed his teeth, got dressed in his usual t-shirt and shorts, and headed for the kitchen. Pete was at his cooking class, but he had made two protein shakes for Bruiser before leaving. Bruiser drank both down quickly, enjoying the chocolate taste.

Bruiser tossed the canisters into the sink and noticed a dirty one already in there.

“Did Pete have one, too?”  He shook the thought from his head, knowing that his brother didn’t care about fitness or nutrition, and assumed it must have been left over from the day before.

“Too bad there’s not a third,” he thought. “I’m fucking starving today.”

The big man left the house and headed for the gym. He took his place on the sidewalk, but was bummed to see it almost deserted since the lunch hour had passed. “Not going to knock anyone over today, that’s for sure.”

The walk seemed longer than usual, and strangely, Bruiser was out of breath by the time he arrived at the gym 25 minutes later. He felt a little lightheaded, so he sat on the bench outside to recover.

After a few minutes Bruiser hoisted himself from the bench and went inside. The cool air perked him up a bit, plus he always felt confident and strong in the gym. He strode to the free weight area, ready to be admired.

But like the sidewalk, the gym was almost empty. Other than two college-age men on the treadmills, plus the staff members, Bruiser had the place to himself.

“Well, fuck, nothing’s going my way today.”

He started his workout on the bench press, loading the bar up with 255 pounds for his warmup set. Bruiser lifted the bar up off the rack and lowered it to his chest, pressed it twice, but was already feeling fatigued. He considered doing a third, but stopped and re-racked the weight.

A bit woozy, and confused why such a light weight had been so troubling, Bruiser decided he was hungry and headed for the juice bar. He took several protein bars without paying – the bar worked on the honor system, but Bruiser refused to pay even though he had plenty of money – and gobbled them down. He felt slightly better, so he took two more and ate them as well.

Bruiser eventually walked back to the free weight area, and although still struggling, managed to complete most of his workout. He returned to the juice bar to grab eight more protein bars during the process, but he felt content on getting his lifts completed.

After finishing, Bruiser decided to take an Uber home. He was just too tired for the walk. The driver complained repeatedly about his sweaty clothes, but Bruiser didn’t care.

“So what if he gives me a low rating – he’s just some loser that has to drive Uber to make extra money,” thought Bruiser.

He arrived home a few minutes after leaving the gym and went straight for the kitchen, per his routine. Pete had his dinner waiting and served him the usual – steaks, veggies, and rice.

“No ‘friend’ tonight?” asked Pete as Bruiser started eating.

“Gym was empty today. Got there too late.”

Bruiser then noted something different as well: Pete had set aside several steaks for himself, too.

“You eating red meat?” he asked between bites.

Pete nodded. “I had one last night and really liked it, so I thought I’d have another.”

Bruiser didn’t respond, but kept eating as fast as he could. He was going to go out with his friends again tonight and needed to get ready.

“Fuck,” thought Bruiser, remembering that he had destroyed his lucky jeans the other night. “I forgot to get a new pair. Guess I’ll just wear my Levi’s.”

After finishing, Bruiser rose from his stool and shoved his plate across the counter toward his brother. Still pissed about the jeans and not sure how to express his anger, he grabbed three eclairs that Pete had made earlier and stuffed them in his mouth as he went upstairs.

Pete ate his dinner as well and cleaned up the kitchen. His steaks were filling, so he left the rest of the eclairs he had made on the counter for later. After Bruiser went to meet his friends, he decided to grab a book and spend the evening reading, but first he needed to finish the laundry.

Pete descended the staircase into the basement, went into the laundry room, and moved all the dark clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. Then, he grabbed the white clothes from the basket he had brought down earlier and put them into the washing machine along with a cupful of detergent. He started the wash and left the room.

The younger brother was about to go back upstairs, but he stopped for some unknown reason. Pete wasn’t sure why, but something was telling him to go toward the other end of the basement, so he turned and walked in that direction.

He rounded the corner of their large rec room and flicked on the light. The space was filled with all the workout gear that their dad had purchased for Bruiser, but which rarely got used. Bruiser worked out to generate an audience, and these weights were going to remain untouched since nobody could appreciate him lifting them.

Pete walked between the benches and weights, noting how unorganized everything was.

“Bruiser must have shown off at least once or twice for one of his friends,” he thought. “I suppose I could put everything back.”

First, he straightened up the benches, and then he started putting the dumbbells back in order on their rack. They were surprisingly lighter than he had anticipated, so he began curling one of them after picking it up. Pete watched himself in one of the mirrors, something he usually did not like to do, but thought he looked better than anticipated. A small muscle appeared under his shirt sleeve, and he focused on it instead of the flab encasing the rest of his body.

“Wow, I wouldn’t have thought 30 pounds would feel this light.”

After finishing 10 reps, he put the 30 pounder back and grabbed two 40 pounders from the rack. Pete took a huge breath, blew it out, and curled them simultaneously.

“Also not as hard as I thought.”

Pete did 10 more reps in each arm, and then proceeded to put all the dumbbells back in their rightful place. He also arranged the weight bars, dusted the machines, organized the various supplies on the small shelf in the room, and cleaned all the mirrors. Everything looked perfect when he had finished.

As he turned to leave however, he noted a small piece of paper sticking out from behind one of the mirrors. He pulled it out and was surprised to see the words ‘Bruce Workout Routine’ and it was dated four years ago, when his brother had really gotten into lifting and his dad had purchased the equipment.

“I guess it must have been his first routine. I wonder if it would be good for any beginner?”

Pete felt a flush of heat through his body, followed by a slight tingling all over. “Maybe it’s all the protein from those steaks,” he thought, “but I want to give this a try.”

He went upstairs and found some suitable workout clothes, changed, and ran back downstairs. He had to look up some of the exercise names on his phone, but he managed to figure everything out. After blasting through the workout once, Pete decided to go through it a second time, and then to finish off with some laps around the block.

‘A couple’ laps eventually turned into 10, and before he realized what had happened, he had fun five miles. Pete hadn’t run or walked five miles in a day ever before, and suddenly he had completed the distance in just over an hour.

Still not tired, Pete went back to the basement and grabbed a pair of ankle weights on a small shelf in the workout room. He strapped them on, went back outside, and ran another 10 laps around the block.

After returning, he took the ankle weights back downstairs and returned them to where he had found them. He was about to leave when he saw the measuring tape among the supplies on the shelf. “It might be nice to know where I stand,” he thought.

Pete had never measured his body before, so it seemed a little egotistical at first, but he figured that knowing would be helpful for monitoring any progress if he decided to keep working out.

• Biceps: 14” (“Not bad, but far from good.”)
• Waist: 46” (“Down a little from the last time I bought pants.”)
• Chest: 44” (“Big, but not near as solid as could be.”)
• Thighs: 22” (“Way too small for a guy my size.”)
• Calves: 16” (“Also too small for someone so big.”)

Last but not least, Pete measure his flaccid cock at 4”. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but decided like everything else, it would be nice if it were bigger, too.

He put the measuring tape back and left the weight room, noting that it was almost midnight according to the wall clock. Pete’s t-shirt and shorts were soaked with sweat from the running, so he went upstairs to shower, but finished with some pushups on the steps before doing so.

Two hours later, Bruiser returned alone after a night out with his friends. Usually he had his pick of the women at the clubs and could count on at least 2 or 3 begging to accompany him home, but he had struck out with them all that evening.

“Jesus, everyone’s probably getting laid tonight but me,” said Bruiser as he stormed into the house. He stopped off in the kitchen to grab the remaining eclairs and started eating them on his way upstairs.