Tyson’s unitard clad gut pushed into the glass doors, opening them. He smiled wryly as he turned to his side to fit his duffel bag in, towels, a change of clothes, and seven meal replacement protein bars in it. He strode confidently through the main hallway of the gym, mentally putting together his workout regimen in his head. Legs were his main focus usually, the most important thing for him being keeping out of immobility; he did leg presses yesterday, so squats were today.

A passing jock shot him a glance, confusion on his face. Fatties weren’t supposed to like the gym, yet Tyson seemed content, even elated. Noticing the glance, Tyson shot him a point turning into a finger gun and wink.

The jock was now even more confused.

Tyson walked past the front counter, waving to the front desk clerk who waved back happily. “Hey Tyson, the date went FANTASTIC! Thank you SO MUCH for that restaurant recommendation!”

Tyson blushed, smiling warmly. “Don’t mention it!” He said before walking to the workout machines. He took out the squat bar, putting weight on it before putting himself into position. Today was a deadlift day too, he decided during his second set, sweat beginning to collect under his armpits.

His stomach gurgled and he smiled. There was a buffet less than a mile from the gym, his favorite after work-out stop. His record was eight plates of food in a single sitting, but as he continued his squatting, he idly thought of how to get it up to nine.