Brad stood at the entrance to locker room and inhaled. The air was rich with the heady aromas of oil, cologne and stale sweat - the smell of success. Brad had worked hard to get here, to the finals of the Mister Muscle bodybuilding competition.
There were maybe a score of bodybuilders in the locker room, in various states of undress. Most were still wearing their street clothes. A few were in their posing pouches, going through their routines in front of the wall-length mirror. Brad paused to admire their bodies, their taut muscles, and couldn't help wondering if ...
"Hey! What you looking at, shrimp?" One of the men in front of the mirror was glaring at Brad. The others guffawed at his show of wit.
Brad held out a hand. "I know you. You're Sam Fabulous, right?"
The bodybuilder looked down at Brad's hand. "You a fan?"
"Yes."
Fabulous frowned. "Fans ain't supposed to be backstage."
Brad fiddled in the pocket of his wind cheater and pulled out a laminated pass. "I'm also a competitor."
"Well, I'll be!" Fabulous remarked. "I didn't know they had a seafood category. Tell you what shrimp, why don't you show us what you got?"
The hum of conversation in the locker room faded away. Brad could feel every eye in the place boring into him. "Alright," he said. "I'll show you." He started to strip, pulling his shoes off, then his shirt. He unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his trousers, kicking them away, leaving him standing there clad only in his undershorts.
"Well, you got something," Fabulous remarked, eyeing Bart's body professionally. "But I don't see no definition. Not like me." The bodybuilder flexed his muscles, showing them off.
Bart took up the challenge. "Like this?" He tensed his arms and torso, striking a pose in front of the mirror. It was a pose that he had been saving for use in the contest - one he hoped would help him get some points from the judges.
"Not bad, shrimp," Fabulous sneered. "But if you think that's definition, just watch this." The bodybuilder went through a routine, each pose showing off a different set of muscles. Bart watched in awe. Compared to Fabulous's body, his was just inadequate. Then, his routine finished, Fabulous turned to Bart. "Go home, shrimp. Don't embarrass yourself, Or us."
The other bodybuilders filed out of the locker room, heading for the stage. Fabulous shook his head then followed them out, leaving Bart on his own. He stared at his reflection. Definition. He needed definition. Otherwise he might as well just give up.
Bart picked up his gym bag and fumbled through it. In the bottom of the bag was his lock knife. Bart unfolded the blade and tested it against his thumb. Then, satisfied his knife was sharp enough for the task he had in mind, Bart sliced into his skin and began to peel it away.
