J
JoshTorbeck
Iron
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2025
- Posts
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- 38
It couldn't be him; It couldn't.
I felt the sharp stab of painful recognition as the sweat dripping down a chiseled physique and guyliner stares back at me.
Andrew Dearman.
No it couldn't be him. Not here. Not now. I haven't talked to him since the incident....
*CRASH*
While lost in thought I stupidly fell off the treadmill. I push down the once sweet memories now soaked with betrayal. I repeat my minutely mantra of lean is law and quickly pick myself up to do my 6th hour of cardio for the session. The pain had long since subsided; being dulled from copious amounts of caffine and nic. I tell myself that nothing tastes as good as being shredded feels. Locking back in I open tik-tok just to play favorited looksmaxing sounds and imagine myself in an edit. If I give up now clearly I just don't want it enough and she will never take me back.
Later that day, I sat slumped in my cramped kitchen, four pints of Nick’s ice cream lined up like sad trophies on the counter. Every spoonful was a bitter reminder of a past I couldn’t escape. As the cold cream like fiber melted slowly on my tongue, memories of that fateful cardio session crept back—memories I had tried so hard to bury beneath endless hours on the treadmill.
Back then, when Andrew and I were still inseparable, the gym wasn’t just a place to sculpt our bodies—it was our playground, our sanctuary of shared sweat and whispered promises. Side by side on the cardio machines, we would exchange playful glances and our favorite energy drinks like secret love notes. I remember how his eyes would light up when he’d press a kiss against my lips slowly pushing some ghost in, and how the rhythm of our breathing seemed to synchronize in perfect harmony. Those moments were our escape from the mundane—a fantasy world where nothing could break us apart.
But that day, the script changed. In the midst of our routine banter and the familiar clatter of machines, Andrew did something unexpected. With a sly smile that
I once cherished, he nonchalantly slipped 10mg anavar4thehuzz into my open mouth as we leaned in for one of our signature kisses. The act was so sudden, so jarringly out of place, that the taste of betrayal overwhelmed the sweetness of our shared energy drinks. I remember the shock and fury that surged through me as I pulled away, my voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and hurt: “What the fuck, man? That makes me not natty! The retatrutide keeps my natty card, and you— you stupidly took that away, b-b-baka!” - not knowing the reta was faked all along, still it hurt deeply.
The words rang out, raw and unfiltered, echoing off the gym walls like a curse. In that split second, everything we had built together crumbled into a chasm of mistrust. I could hardly comprehend the depths of his deception. How could someone I once trusted, someone with whom I shared my most vulnerable self, shatter our unspoken pact with such a careless act? The taste of that pill—and the taste of betrayal—haunted me, a bitter relic of a time when love turned toxic, and ambition left scars that no amount of ice cream or cardio could ever fully erase.
I realize I need my sleep for the next day, getting up I realize how bloated I am. Deeply pregnant and feeling like a true Mr potato head I waddle my way to bed, my gut interfering with my normal gait.
I wake up, instantly cursing the teenagers who suggest stupid ped cycles when they are too fucking lazy to even dial in nutrition and training. Even just thinking about the stupid threads they would create, "rate my puberty maxxing cycle", gives my forehead a pump. The constant larp is the stupidest thing they can *THUD* *THUD* *THUD*
I punch myself in the head repeatedly so I can start my day and cardiomaxx.
not done but lost motivation again, handwritten except for memory recollection got to lazy to write about two gay men kissing. Lmk if you want a part 2.
I felt the sharp stab of painful recognition as the sweat dripping down a chiseled physique and guyliner stares back at me.
Andrew Dearman.
No it couldn't be him. Not here. Not now. I haven't talked to him since the incident....
*CRASH*
While lost in thought I stupidly fell off the treadmill. I push down the once sweet memories now soaked with betrayal. I repeat my minutely mantra of lean is law and quickly pick myself up to do my 6th hour of cardio for the session. The pain had long since subsided; being dulled from copious amounts of caffine and nic. I tell myself that nothing tastes as good as being shredded feels. Locking back in I open tik-tok just to play favorited looksmaxing sounds and imagine myself in an edit. If I give up now clearly I just don't want it enough and she will never take me back.
Later that day, I sat slumped in my cramped kitchen, four pints of Nick’s ice cream lined up like sad trophies on the counter. Every spoonful was a bitter reminder of a past I couldn’t escape. As the cold cream like fiber melted slowly on my tongue, memories of that fateful cardio session crept back—memories I had tried so hard to bury beneath endless hours on the treadmill.
Back then, when Andrew and I were still inseparable, the gym wasn’t just a place to sculpt our bodies—it was our playground, our sanctuary of shared sweat and whispered promises. Side by side on the cardio machines, we would exchange playful glances and our favorite energy drinks like secret love notes. I remember how his eyes would light up when he’d press a kiss against my lips slowly pushing some ghost in, and how the rhythm of our breathing seemed to synchronize in perfect harmony. Those moments were our escape from the mundane—a fantasy world where nothing could break us apart.
But that day, the script changed. In the midst of our routine banter and the familiar clatter of machines, Andrew did something unexpected. With a sly smile that
I once cherished, he nonchalantly slipped 10mg anavar4thehuzz into my open mouth as we leaned in for one of our signature kisses. The act was so sudden, so jarringly out of place, that the taste of betrayal overwhelmed the sweetness of our shared energy drinks. I remember the shock and fury that surged through me as I pulled away, my voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and hurt: “What the fuck, man? That makes me not natty! The retatrutide keeps my natty card, and you— you stupidly took that away, b-b-baka!” - not knowing the reta was faked all along, still it hurt deeply.
The words rang out, raw and unfiltered, echoing off the gym walls like a curse. In that split second, everything we had built together crumbled into a chasm of mistrust. I could hardly comprehend the depths of his deception. How could someone I once trusted, someone with whom I shared my most vulnerable self, shatter our unspoken pact with such a careless act? The taste of that pill—and the taste of betrayal—haunted me, a bitter relic of a time when love turned toxic, and ambition left scars that no amount of ice cream or cardio could ever fully erase.
I realize I need my sleep for the next day, getting up I realize how bloated I am. Deeply pregnant and feeling like a true Mr potato head I waddle my way to bed, my gut interfering with my normal gait.
I wake up, instantly cursing the teenagers who suggest stupid ped cycles when they are too fucking lazy to even dial in nutrition and training. Even just thinking about the stupid threads they would create, "rate my puberty maxxing cycle", gives my forehead a pump. The constant larp is the stupidest thing they can *THUD* *THUD* *THUD*
I punch myself in the head repeatedly so I can start my day and cardiomaxx.
not done but lost motivation again, handwritten except for memory recollection got to lazy to write about two gay men kissing. Lmk if you want a part 2.
