The Man (Patreon)

Sam was honestly happy the event was over. Sure, it was great to be acknowledged with this years young entrepreneur award, but he didn’t like to be in a formal setting. It always made him self conscious, though he was pretty sure that was by design. He headed down from the conference floor of Sheraton, through the lobby out on the street, and had a light jog a block away to where his sporty bicycle was parked. He was, as always, wearing sweatshirt and sweatpants with the company logo, and a backpack. It was mentioned more than once in the award ceremony how he never lost an opportunity for advertisement and branding. Dashing through the city on his needlessly rugged off road bike made him reflect on just how far he’d come.

He couldn’t remember anything about The Man. How he looked. How old he was. But he could clearly remember some of the phrases from the session. There could have been more than one, but how could he know?

He’d blink into existence and asked him “Do you know who I am?”. “No”, Sam had answered, truly having no clue. “Do you know where you are?” he followed. “No”, although clearly sitting across the table from The Man in someones kitchen, he had no recollection of the place or how he got there. “And you have no idea who else lives here” he said and pointed at some clothes on a chair. “No”, Sam answered again, surprisingly calm given the circumstances. He could only remember being on his way back home from school before appearing at this table.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way. You’ve been a bad boy Sam, but perhaps it is best everyone forgets about that. But you should have some punishment, and some way of making sure it doesn’t happen again.” Sam didn’t follow what he meant. Bad how?

“There are two main drivers for how to change behavior. On the negative side we have dislikes, fears and phobias. I can easily make you afraid of country music, make you think chocolate is disgusting or make underwear itch unbearably. But I much rather like the positive side. Where you love doing things. Those tends to stick much longer, because you can make a positive feedback loop. If I made you really like soccer, I might add wearing football socks all the time as an obsessive compulsive trait. Every time you put them on you’ll get a shot of positive feeling, making it even more likely you’ll do it again. 3, 2, 1, sleep.”

Just a blink later Sam was standing in front of the front door of his house, as if nothing had happened. It was late and the walk from school that usually only took 15 minutes had taken several hours. He somehow knew that The Man, whoever he was, had done a lot of changes to him, but he couldn’t remember any of them.

The first one was almost immediately apparent as he entered the house and sat down for dinner. “I was almost about to get worried”, his mother had told him. But he wasn’t hungry, and throughout the meal he had a nagging, discomforting feeling that he didn’t know what the food was. He had excused himself, saying he wasn’t feeling all that good, gone to his room and spent many hours reading up on carbs and fats and proteins and meal plans and macros.

Next morning was much better. Not knowing the day would end downhill, he had started happy, with a sense of accomplishment, and a bowl of oat meal porridge. One cup oats and two cups apple juice, microwaved. He had however problems concentrating on classes all throughout the day, and felt very picky on what to eat and not during lunch. Then PE. In all of school he had never liked PE. He was good enough of a student to at least make an effort, but he would jump on any opportunity to skip. But today it was amazing. It went better than it ever had before. He’d never felt so much energy, such a drive to perform. He couldn’t do everything he wanted, but that was his body failing him, not his determination. He just needed to be faster, stronger, more flexible.

As he got dressed after, in the locker room, he realized that something had changed. A shift had happened in his brain.  He didn’t know how he knew it, but he knew that he could no longer wear clothes unless someone else had been sweating in them. The realization came to him fully formed as he started to get dressed after shower. How his skin started to crawl and itch. He recalled what The Man had said about getting people to do or not do things. This was one such thing he realized. This had been done to him.

In panic he grabbed his and Peters gym clothes, both lying next to each other on the bench, and stuffed them into his bag. Wondering how long he could stand before he had to strip out of all his clothes he rushed into the storage room, jammed the door with a broom and almost tore his clothes off, trying to get naked again as fast as possible.

Standing nude he was almost surprised to not see any rashes on his body. Intellectually he knew that it was just his mind playing games with him. Some irrational thought, planted in him, that he made real. But it was so very, very real to him. Still slightly panting he started to go through the last and found bin and putting on clothes. Someone else trunks and socks, T-shirt and sweatpants. He made sure to only pick common brands he could have bought himself at some point, to not be accused of theft. He skipped the last class for the day, saying he didn’t feel well and walked home.

The next month was in turmoil for Sam. Perhaps it was stress with everything else going on, but he had troubles concentrating on anything. Food was a constant source of anxiety. He needed the right macros, the right amounts at the right time. He started to carry food with him, fruit and hard boiled eggs, to the surprise of his mother. His biggest problem however were the clothes. He started to hide dirty clothes in his room, so they wouldn’t be accidentally washed. He had successfully made a few swaps with Peter’s gym clothes, replacing his damp ones with ones he had previously stolen, worn and washed by his mother. The lost items bin long since raided for anything useful, he was running out of options. Tell a friend that he’s a weirdo? Tell a parent? Not a chance.

The only time he wasn’t stressed out by all of this was when he was actually participating in PE, or exercising himself in any other way. That’s why he started to jog to school and run detours on his way back home. This was what set him on a path to a solution. He realized that to stay focused he needed to exercise more. That was the only way he wouldn’t completely flunk school. Ideally he would need multiple passes a day, but anything would be better than nothing. He’d never given gyms a second thought before, but not only did he turn up to the the nearest gym, fully intent to become a paying member. He managed to convince the owner to work the reception part time after school for free in exchange for membership. He still had his looks and charm.

Not only was the workout secured, but he had a source for clothes. Not just the lost and found either. With a bit of observational skill he could easily purchase the right items and swap them out when regulars were in the sauna. Tommy, a few years older but of similar build and size, and he practically shared a wardrobe of duplicate clothes two weeks later.

He’d come such a long way in just a few years. Winner of the young entrepreneur award and owner of three gyms in the city. While perhaps not a cash cow, his concept of gym clothes that they launder themselves had found a niche clientele. His impeccable technique, vast knowledge, and ability to translate that into real progress for his customers is what made him the most sought after PT in the entire area. Years of diligent workout without a single cheat day made him a walking billboard, which continued to pull in customers of any sex. Guess that’s the upside of being revolted by anything that would upset his macros. He still didn’t know if he’d gotten a revenge on The Man, or if everything had worked out as he planned.

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