The Lost Year of Gain (Patreon)

"Dude, you have most of the ingredients you need. You only lack commitment, if you don't mind me saying so." Steve is having another one of his coaching moments. I much prefer when he helps me with my form than him trying to be my shrink. I'm not quite acing all the tests, but I'm pretty darn close so I think I'm in a better position to analytically approach my exercises than he is. It's not like he is my coach anyway. He's just a big dude that happens to be at the gym most of the time when I'm working out. He helped me use some equipment correctly one time, and since then he's been friendly. He knows what he's doing, so I'm not ungrateful for his tips, but there is nothing more to it. Not even a gym buddy. A gym acquaintance.

On the other he does know what he is doing. He's easily the fittest person I personally know, and it wouldn't surprise me to know that the reason we see each other so often at the gym is that he spends most of his time here. "It's not that easy. I have a lot of other things to think about," I retort.

He's putting down his weights and looks at me with undivided attention. His chest is still heaving while his body is desperately trying to re-oxinate after his latest set, way heavier than anything I could muster. "I don't know if I've told you I study sports medicine. I've taken an interest in sports psychology and how it interacts with more recent neurological research. I think I might be able to help you there."

That he studied sports medicine was something he'd mentioned on a weekly basis, but I've always assumed it was mostly how to apply creams and massage strained muscles. "Like my motivational coach or something?" I don't mind him telling me to aim for the stars to hit the moon, as long as it doesn't steal time from studying.

"Nah, dude. You'll do it all by yourself. I'll just help set you in the right direction."
"So, what ARE you proposing? Drugs?"
"No. Not unless you want to anyway. I've been working on a kind of hypnosis thing I'd like to try out. Considering doing a thesis on it, actually. It'll make you really motivated for a set duration, like a year or so."
"Hypnosis? I don't think. Well. I..."
"Dude, I know. You think you are too clever. It actually works the other way. If you are too stupid you won't pick it up as easily."
"What do I need to do?"
"Just shake my hand," Steve says as he reaches out his hand. I reach out to grab it, but he quickly grabs my arm by the wrist, moves it to my forehead, and says "sleep".

There is like a disorienting wobble. The whole room is shifted around and I'm standing at a different spot, facing a different way. It's such an odd sensation, like I just woke up from a dream. Eminem's "Till I Collapse" is playing in my ears way too loud. I hate hip hop, I never play music at the gym, and I never play it this loud. Somehow I know it is coming from the phone in my hand and confused I look down at it. The phone is definitely my trusted old phone in my old Hulk case, but nothing else makes sense. I'm wearing gloves all of a sudden, but more shocking are the arms connecting the gloves to my body. They are huge, veiny, pure muscle arms. I'm not wearing the T-shirt anymore, but instead have some sleeveless thing on with the side of a pair of much more developed pecs than mine peeking out.

I turn towards the mirror and can't believe what I see. It's me alright, with a new haircut that is more tightly cropped with a machine on the sides. But going further down, below my face, things starts getting really unfamiliar. The neck is clearly thicker and everything the loose sleeveless shirt doesn't cover is massively bigger than moments ago. Just looking at how the shirt sits on my shoulders tells me it hides more changes. I grab hold of the hem of the shirt and pull it to the side. I'm stacked. Squares like a waffle iron, and not just from starving myself a washboard. I'm properly jacked with a wide waist and even wider shoulders.

My gears are slowly turning to try pull myself out of amazement and spit out solutions. Clearly this has something to do with the conversation I just had with Steve. I hit the button on the phone to get the lock screen and I'm just as startled by what I see. Same date as before, but one year later. What the hell? Did he knock me out for a year? I remove the glove, unlock the phone, and start look through what's in there. It looks very similar to what I would have expected from myself. Notes from classes. Messages from friends. Only things different are the meticulous workout schedule and diet notes. It's like my life had went on for a year without me.

Shit. Exam in three weeks according to the schedule, and I can't remember anything from the past year. I look back into the mirror. Perhaps... no, definitely worth it.