Preworkout

 

Terrence hated his cousin. Sam was a megajock football player who always knew just how to push his buttons. So when his mom gave him an ultimatum of having Sam train him and help him get on the football team, or having his new PS4 trashed, it was an easy but nasty decision. When Terrence showed up at the team locker room after school that day, he had no idea what was in store for him. He called out his cousins name into the echoing locker room, and heard a quiet chuckle from further inside. 

“Just get in here, Terry boy.” Sam called out, hidden by the dim lights and tall green lockers. As Terrence approached him, the familiar stench of Sam wafted in the air. Its strange combination of Old Spice and b.o. completely invaded the nostrils. Sam knew that he was very sensitive to smell- even his moms lavender candle was too much for him to handle. So, he hadn’t showered since morning practice. Sam stood near his locker, taping his fingers. Without even turning to look at him, he laughed. “I thought I told you to wear gym clothes, Terry. What the hell are you wearing?”

Terrence looked down at his Sperries, light blue button up, and nautical shorts. “I didn’t have any.” He quietly murmured. Sam, completely disconnected, grabbed a gatorade water bottle from his locker, identical to his own, and tossed it behind him at Terrence. It hit the locker next to him, and bending down to pick it up, he noticed a piece of masking tape with the name “Terry Boy” haphazardly written on it. “What’s this?” Terrence queried.

“Preworkout.” Sam simply stated. Terrence took a quick swig from the water bottle, and tasted the strange cherry-flavoured drink. A wave of goosebumps came across his body, attacked by the strange taste from the strong drink. “It’s coach’s personal recipe. If you don’t have workout clothes on in five fucking minutes, find yourself a new trainer, kid. Look through the lost and found. I bet some teammates left their shit here.” Terrence looked through the bin, now basically inhaling the preworkout solution, as he found nasty stained workout gear that was basically his size, and a pair of grimy used Nikes. Slipping on the clothes, he smelled the previous occupants intense musk and body odor. It completely overwhelmed his nose. The soles of the shoes were damp and slick, clearly filled with sweat and toejam. Strangely, however, the more that Terrence downed the preworkout, the less he cared.

“Alright, pusscake. Let’s go.” Sam tossed him a refilled water bottle, filled with more of coach’s special solution. By the time they entered the weight room, Terrence felt pinpricks all over his arms and scalp, and was absolutely filled to the brim with insatiable energy. He worked out intensely with Sam: heavy ropes, Russian twists, lunges, bench presses, pec flys, and worst of all, squats. However, with every single exhausting set, his muscles began to bulge and swell. His sweat began to permeate and mix with the dried sweat on the clothes, creating a strong manly scent wafting from his pumped up armpits and meaty feet. To match his now sculpted musculature, his mind began to melt. He no longer remembered growing up with The Legend of Zelda or Halo, but instead remembered the many amazing Carolina Panthers games he attended with Sam. Instead of spending hours on the forum boards, he spend hours pumping iron and training to be the best runningback he could be.

“So, Terry Boy. Gonna see you in practice tomorrow?” Sam asked. Terry turned to his bro, throwing his glistening arm around him, snatching the cap from his head.

“Damn straight bro. Can’t disappoint coach like that.”