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The Biggest Loser

By: StangStar06



Edited by Mikothebaby

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I was born Carlton James Randall, which quickly became Carl when I got to school, and then C.J. in high school. And once I got on the football team, I was Big C. At 6'4" and 260lbs I was always a big one. At that time I was one of the bigger guys on our defensive line. The thing that had all of the colleges dying to recruit me wasn't my size. I was huge for a high-school student, but just barely bigger than the average guy playing my position on the top college teams. The thing that had them all sniffing after me was the fact that even though I was as big as a fucking house, I had the jets. I could run like someone stuck a rocket up my ass. My sophomore year in college, I led the conference in sacks, forced fumbles, and swatted down balls. Half the quarterbacks in our conference were afraid of me. Usually halfway through a game the offensive linemen on the other side would just put up token resistance because they knew we were going to get through. It was rare that I was not double teamed.

Right now you're wondering aren't you? Why the hell haven't I heard of this guy? Which pro team does he play, oh yeah he plays for... Let me help you out, I play for Provincial Insurance. When you see those commercials on TV, telling you to get yourself a piece of the block, that's us. Right now I'm the company's Accounting Director, all of Provincial's accountants, worldwide, report to me. You see I had a career ending knee injury at the beginning of my junior year and couldn't ever play football again. I hit the books hard, got my degrees in Accounting and Global Finance and never looked back. Okay maybe I do yearn for a taste of the glory days every time the Super Bowl rolls around but that's only because I was so God damned close to being there.

Anyway I'm happy with most of my life. As you'd imagine, I drag home a butt-load of cash. I have a nice home and a beautiful wife who loves me. So what's the problem? Remember my weight in high school? At 35 years old I'm in the prime of my life. I'm still 6'4" but now I tip the scales at close to 400 lbs. I'm a heart attack waiting to happen. It is only a matter of time.

My wife Sarah has been putting pressure on me lately to do something about my weight. Mostly I just half heartedly tried whatever she suggested. None of the fitness plans or diets worked and I've tried them all. Remember the Adkins diet that all of those people lost weight on a few years ago. I cut out nearly all of my carbs and still gained weight. Whatever the diet's stipulations were, I seemed to find a way around them. With Adkins, I cut all of my carbs and simply replaced the calories with more meat. It got to the point where I was eating like a cow a day. I was better off eating the carbs. Not to mention the fact that eating all of that red meat caused my blood pressure to spike.

Then one night about 3 weeks ago it all changed. Sarah and I were having sex, and I just gave out and collapsed on top of her. She literally couldn't breathe with me on her and it just went downhill from there. We started arguing about my weight as usual, and she finally told me that until I lost at least 50 lbs, we wouldn't be having sex anymore. I left the room and slammed the door. I slept in the guest room that night and left for work early the next morning. I hoped that when I got home it would be just another argument that blew over, but it wasn't. Sarah had gone on the internet and found me a weight loss boot camp. The camp lasted for a month, she told me that it was probably the best thing for me. She was tired of being married to the fattest guy in the neighborhood. It was embarrassing for her.

I looked at the brochure she'd printed from the internet and called them. I had them process a payment for me right then and arranged to leave in the morning. "You're actually going?" she asked me. But I didn't say anything to her. I just headed upstairs to start packing my clothes. "It'll be great for you to lose some weight. You'll be healthier and you'll feel better," she said.

"The month will pass like no time, I'll call you every day," she said.

That night I slept in the guest room again. Sarah didn't understand why. "We're not angry at each other, it's over. Why are you sleeping in there?" she asked. 

"You said we weren't going to sleep together again until I lost 50lbs," I reminded her.

"I said we weren't going to have sex again until you lost it," she said. "Anyway I didn't really mean it, I was just upset." I think she realized that she had hurt me pretty badly and was trying to make up for it. But getting away from home for a while just seemed like a good idea at the time.

The next morning, before Sarah awakened I got into my Chrysler 300 C and drove to the airport. I flew to Tucson and the dry heat of the Arizona desert to start the camp. For my first 3 weeks here I've been doing my usual bit when it comes to fitness. I spent most of my first week here getting my internet and computer system set up to allow me to work while I'm at camp. The next week I started actually viewing what was going on here. I say viewing because I didn't actually participate in anything. I just watched and laughed at some of the things they expected us to do. In terms of the food, let's face it. I have internet access. So I use the meals they serve us as an appetizer, and order pizza or burgers and have them delivered. The delivery people even know that to get a bigger tip they just meet me on the access road that the campers use for jogging. I sit at the picnic tables and eat the food and then go back to camp. So after being here for nearly 3 weeks how much have I lost? I've lost -6 lbs. Yep that means I'm actually 6 lbs fatter than when I got here.

That all changed 2 days ago, when I got an email from an old friend of mine, Steve Martin, (no, not that comedian/actor). Anyway Steve had just gone through a messy divorce and was getting his life back together. He wasn't really looking for another wife yet he just wanted to mess around and play for a while. Steve wrote me that he's been out on a date at a club with a woman who was way too young and too wild for us, and he thought he'd seen Sarah there with another guy. So he'd gone over to see if it was her. It was, she was out with a guy he'd never seen before and was letting the guy put his hands all over her. He'd taken a few pictures because he knew that I wouldn't believe him, or that I wouldn't want to believe him. I looked at the pictures, and I knew that he was right. It was Sarah. I recognized the one of a kind necklace I'd had made for her when we went to Mexico last year. That email changed my whole reason for being here. And it changed my life.

I spent the next day taking stock of my life and decided what I wanted to change. I was a really nice guy. And I have, like I said a great life, but there were a couple of things that would need to be changed. One, I really did have to do something about my weight and self image. The other thing could wait until after that was over. This morning I went into the camp office and sat down with the director. I told him that I needed to change my life so I signed up for the 6 month intensive program that they reserve for people who are nearly morbidly obese. 

I started right away this morning I went out for a walk in the desert with one of the training groups. It was an easy 2 mile walk at a very slow pace. It was supposed to help speed up our metabolisms and start us out burning calories before we ate breakfast. I laughed at the thought of it because back in high-school and college, I used to run about four miles a day at a very good pace. That was my wake up call. It made me realize how far I had fallen and that this wasn't high school. I might've felt like I was still that big, toned, athletic, football player, but I wasn't. I struggled to finish the 2 miles and near the end I couldn't keep up the pace. There were a couple of 60 year old ladies urging me on and telling me I was doing great, as they passed me with a half mile to go.

When I got back to camp, I was bathed in sweat, and having trouble walking. My knee, the one I'd injured playing football actually hurt. As I entered the cafeteria a lot of the people I'd befriended at the camp called me over. They were mostly shocked to see me all sweaty. They were also as big a bunch of scam artists as I was. I went and sat at a small table in the back, alone. If I was going to do what I now had my mind set on, I didn't need any negative influences. For breakfast I had a half a glass of orange juice, a piece of toast, a half a cup of fresh fruit, and two slices of low fat turkey bacon. I was still starving when I finished, but I had truly decided to change.

After breakfast we had an hour to do as we pleased before our first workshop. I used my hour to hire a private investigator to get me the info I needed on Sarah. It wasn't something I relished or looked forward to. It was just something I had to do. I needed to know how far she'd gone with that guy and whether or not there were others. I loved Sarah, and upon reflection, I guess I could understand what she was going through. Depending on how far she went with this guy, there was a chance that maybe we could get past this.

As I went to the workshop, this time I actually listened to the speakers they'd lined up for us. I heard stories from former campers who'd lost a great deal of weight and had successfully kept it off. In some cases, they'd made great changes in their lives and most claimed it was all because after years of struggling with their weight they'd found one thing or one person or one incident that gave them the focus and the reason to change. I realized that finding out that the woman I loved more than anything was cheating on me had been my motivating incident. But that I wasn't changing for her, I was changing for myself. I'd always had women through high school and college. And since then I had Sarah, so I really didn't need to look at myself. But the thought of losing her made me realize that I needed to change some things about myself.

Almost as soon as I got out of the workshop, my phone rang. It was Sarah making her daily call. I hadn't spoken to her for the previous 2 days since I'd spoken to Steve because I had been too hurt to even speak to her.

"Hi Honey," she said cheerfully. Where've you been that you haven't answered the phone? I've missed you so much."

"Sarah, I've been trying to both work from this place and lose some weight. So it's been tough." I said.

"Well, don't worry, you'll be home in 2 days, and it'll be over." She said.

"No Sarah, I haven't lost 50 lbs. So I'm not coming home yet." I said seriously.

"Carl, that was just an arbitrary number I threw out there, when I was pissed. I miss you. I want you to come home," she said seriously. "I don't care if you only lost 2 pounds. I've got what I wanted, and you are seriously trying. If you really want to lose weight now that you're serious about it, you can lose weight at home just as easily."

"No Sarah," I said just as seriously. "A deal is a deal. I won't be home until I've lost at least 50 lbs., maybe more." In my mind, I'd keyed on her words that she'd gotten what she wanted. She probably should have said who she wanted.

"Carl," don't be so stubborn, you can lose weight at home. Besides I've been thinking about some things and I really want you to come home."

"Sarah, my mind is made up, but I need you to do me a favor," I said. "It's really difficult for me to lose weight without totally immersing myself in the lifestyle here, so I don't want you to call me until I'm done. I'm doing this for both of us. I don't want you to have to be embarrassed by me anymore. I see now how awful it was for you all of this time, being followed around by some disgusting fat slob, just because he loved you."

"Carl, I never should have said that," she said, softly. "I was just angry."

I hung the phone up and got into some sweat pants and a sweat shirt for our morning exercise class. I went to the gym and looked around I got in line in the front instead of the back. I wasn't going to hide anymore. The trainer today was Debbie. She was a very no nonsense trainer. She had never spoken so much as a word to me since I'd gotten here. I had seen her sneering at me a few times, but we'd never spoken. Even now as I lined up in the front row, she was looking at me as if she wanted just the force of her glance to push me to the back so she didn't have to look at me.

We started out with stretches and reaching exercises. Not only could I not touch my toes I had trouble touching my knees. But I tried really hard. Before we had finished the warm ups, we hadn't actually done any real exercises yet and I was already sweating. Then the embarrassment began, we started with light leg lifts, lifting our knees to supposedly waist height. When we got done with those I was bathed in sweat and Debbie was looking at me, with laughter in her eyes and an evil smirk on her face. We did arm lifts and she kept us doing them until I couldn't hold my arms up anymore, but I kept trying. We got down on the mat, for still more embarrassment. In my prime I could bench press over 300 lbs. That day I failed to do even one push-up. I was able to do one sit-up, but I collapsed after it. Debbie's smug look followed me as I left. I went and showered before lunch.

After lunch we had another hour off, I went to the clinic and got my knee looked at. I had a very slight strain and they wrapped it up for me. The exertion of the morning's walk had just pushed the muscles surrounding the joint further than they'd experienced in a long time. The doctor told me to ice it for a couple of days and I'd be fine. I could even still walk on it tomorrow, but he didn't advise me trying to over-do it.

And that was my pattern for the next week. I ate only the meals we were served, and refused the desserts. I also skipped most of the snacks unless I was absolutely starving. The first 5 days were absolute hell. I know that I was the butt of several jokes and a lot of laughter. But after the first 3 weeks I'd spent here I deserved it. But I was proud of myself, at the end of my first week of really working at it I'd lost 8 lbs.

I got my first report from the PI at the end of that first week as well. He had pictures for me. Some were from a restaurant that Sarah had gone to with the guy. And even a recorded conversation with him. Of course there were also pictures of her going into a motel room with him, and from the length of time they stayed in the motel it was very obvious what they were doing. The funniest thing is that her having sex with him didn't hurt me nearly as much as hearing some of the things she said about me behind my back did.

The guy had asked her what made her finally decide to give him a chance after he'd been after her for months. I hadn't heard anything about that from her, so she'd been keeping secrets from me for a long time. She'd apparently known this guy from her college days but they hadn't actually gotten together until recently. She'd told him that she was just tired and embarrassed by me. And that I was too out of shape to even satisfy her anymore, so she'd sent me off to camp so she could try out a real man. Then she asked him how he hid what they were doing from his wife. He told her that like her, he wore the pants in his family and his wife did what he told her and didn't question him.

In my second week of real training I picked up the pace of the morning walks, in the afternoons I started swimming laps or pool walking. I also started doing some of the skill building activities like, archery and fencing. I needed to pick up a few hobby type activities that would allow me to keep busy when I left the camp. I also hired myself a good divorce lawyer. I explained what was going on and how I'd discovered it and arranged for him to get reports from the PI as well, so he'd be up on any and all developments. I asked him to get the papers ready to be served even though I still didn't have an end date in sight yet.

By the end of my first month of real training I was a new man, or I was closer to being the man I'd been. I'd lost almost 40 lbs, and I felt better than I'd felt in years. My routine was different as well, I usually got up earlier and jogged 3 miles instead of the morning walk. I always did Debbie's exercise class but now it seemed like she no longer looked down on me and had actually began to smile and greet me in the mornings. The biggest shock came one morning when I'd completed my 10th push up out of a set of fifteen that we tried for and found a sudden weight on my back. I pushed as hard as I could and got another push up in. I looked up to see Debbie pushing down on my back to add resistance.

I was able to handle most of my work responsibilities, from the camp over the internet and via email and phone. I had also made a list of friends and associates and during my daily meditation sessions instead of meditating on motivating myself to lose weight, I examined my relationship with most of the people I knew. 

I realized that for a long time, a lot of them hadn't been actually laughing with me about my weight, they'd been laughing at me. By the six week point my weight had actually hit a plateau. The weight was still coming off but at a much slower pace. I had lost just over 60lbs but I was no longer able to maintain the roughly one to one and a half pounds per day that I had previously averaged.

I remembered back in high school, my coach would have us do 2 a days if we came into preseason workouts out of shape. So I added a second longer run to my daily schedule. This run was more challenging and although my knee and my age would never again let me run as I had in college, I enjoyed it and I started to run a little further each day. Sometimes when I got back, if I still had the energy for it, I'd go to the gym and lift weights. There again. I was taking it easy and counting on my memory of what I'd done when I was younger to get me through it. When I first started it was embarrassing. After years of telling people about my 300 lb bench presses, I struggled to bench 100 lbs.

Another thing that was a shock to me was that as I made progress, it wasn't consistent. I got my bench up to 150lbs and then couldn't lift it again for over a week. My legs were also very weak. The knee injury simply wouldn't let me do squats or a lot of the other heavy leg exercises. The same thing happened with a lot of the exercises for my back. Anything I had to do in a standing position was limited by the weakness of my knee joint. But I got better slowly. The pain in my heart just didn't seem to be going away though.

One night I was trying to put up 170 lbs and the first rep went up pretty easily. I struggled with the second rep. Common sense should have told me not to try a third, but in my emotional state common sense was not my strong point. On the way back up the bar got much heavier and I just couldn't push it up. I pushed with all of my might and was trying to think of a way to wriggle out from under the bar when I felt someone grab it and start pulling it back up. Together we managed to get the bar back on its stands.

"Well, that was intelligent, Carl," said Debbie. "You barely made the second rep, so what made you think you could get another one in? Did you know that it was against camp policy to be in the weight room alone? Do you understand why now?"

"I'm sorry Debbie, it won't happen again," I said. "Thank you for saving me. I know it's just another thing for you to laugh at, so enjoy telling everyone how you had to help the fat slob again." I left after that. If Debbie had any further scolding or complaints she held them and just let me walk away.

The next day after breakfast, I started looking into some of the workout rooms to see if there was another exercise group I could join. There was a yoga class and a Pilates group that I'd never tried, but I decided to try the step aerobics class. It looked like it might be fun and there were a lot of women in the class and very few men. I was just about to go in when I heard a voice behind me.


The Biggest Loser Of All Time



There is no limit to what man will do, without thought or reason that will alter or even destroy his life. Plus you are caught in a perpetual spiral that doesn't stop and you can't control anything. This is my story and it is real.

I had the idyllic life, beautiful wife and daughter, home, great job, good friends, annual vacation you name it. I did have some vices, some drinking, a little loose with credit debt, but mostly it was the slow growing seedy vice: gambling.

It started innocently enough, guy friends getting together in each others home for a little poker game. At first we had match sticks, we moved to pennies, nickels and then dollars.

It never got crazy, but on a good night you could win a hundred bucks, or lose the same.

At the office we had our little pool bets, football, basketball and on, again never with any back breaking losses at risk, just a little entertainment.

One afternoon I passed a co-workers office who was in a joyous mood just after hanging up the phone. He waved me in and said that his bookie just informed him of a win and he won five hundred. I congratulated him and returned to my desk with a nagging ache in my gut that I wanted that feeling, that action and excitement. 

What I now call a disease or addiction at the time, started to consume my waking thoughts and late night as well. So much so that distractions at work and home became more frequent. I had to do something to appease the demands that my mind was making.

I ran into my co-worker in the break room one afternoon and during our conversation asked him if I could use his bookie. He didn't seem to mind and gave me the name Marcus, with a phone number and to mention his name. He did give me a warning that I should never make a bet I couldn't cover. When I inquired why he would mention that, he said that he had heard that Marcus had some associates that made sure of collections.

I had no such concerns, this was never going to get out of hand and I would remain in control. I called the number I was given and got a cold response, I don't even know if it was Marcus on the line. Asking me questions on what I was looking for, how much in daily and weekly action, the answers were the best I could provide since this was all a new game to me.

What stood out was that everything would be cash, both the bet and payoff. I was to drop off my bet to a guy in a certain bar, collect any winnings in another bar, both downtown. If I wanted I could also remain in the bank that is leave the winnings to cover a future bet. It all seemed simple and straight up. When the question was did I want to make a bet, I said yes, gave them the particulars and said twenty five bucks. I got a laugh on the other end of the line saying the minimum was $100.

And so it started. For the first six weeks I placed minimum bets and won almost 75% of the time, an unusually high percentage. Most of the time I would collect my winnings in person at the assigned bar, I just had to feel the dough to know I was winning. I was feeling bulletproof as far as my betting skills were concerned.

So naturally I started to up the ante, first $200 then up to $500 a bet. My winning percentage shrunk to barely half of the time, still good but starting to tread water. I still had the cash flow at home to be under the radar screen with the wife and our life showed no difference in how we lived.

I started feeling comfortable with Marcus on the phone, so much so we would even banter a little with some jokes and talking crap about politics. He even told me that he liked me and considered us buddies, even though we had never laid eyes on each other, or so I believed. I should have had a hunch about this because this was starting the point of no return.

Telephoning Marcus on a Thursday afternoon with a standard bet for me, he told me of a very hot tip on a horse race at an out of state track. He told me it was a slam dunk, or basically that the fix was in and he was alerting his people to hit it. I was suckered and said put $200 in, he stated in no uncertain terms that in order to play I needed to "go heavy" When I inquired what does that mean; the response was it means $5,000.

Backpedaling I said I didn't have it, was there any other options to take. He said since I was a regular that he could cover it, but just in case the bet went south, I could pay next week. I did have that much in our savings account, but my wife and I always discussed the use of that money, emergencies, and major appliances and the like. Marcus pushed me for an answer, he had people on hold; I swallowed hard and said go for it. 

I sweated that weekend horribly to the point my wife and daughter asked me continually was anything wrong. I would pace and rub my hands, kind of like a new dad waiting to hear he had a healthy new baby. I never got the particulars of the race, horse or anything; I relied on Marcus to just set it up. I promised myself over and over, whatever the outcome, I would never do this again, bet this heavy. This was not the feeling of action I craved.

The earliest I could Monday morning the call went to Marcus to hear the news. Right away he put me at ease, laughingly informing me it was a big winner as promised and I had tripled my money. Euphoric would be an understatement on how I felt at that point, so much in fact the urge to go again was overwhelming. I opted to collect my money; to see that much green piled in my paws was really cool and would make me feel cool.

I decided to keep the winnings in cash, stashing it away in a secret hiding place for my future gambling. I now felt bulletproof, the wife would see no irregular checking account activity, and I would play with just pure winnings. Life was grand and I was the grand marshal.

Feeling bold I had upped the ante, now betting upwards of $1,000 a week and didn't notice at first the increase in losses versus wins and before I really noticed, my stash was almost gone. This did not slow me down though; I knew the recovery was just at the next win. Marcus was also more open; he fronted my bets when I couldn't make it downtown to put my cash on the line. However while calling in a bet, my brain got a jolt of reality; Marcus said it was a no go, he needed $3,000 from my losses he had covered.

Feeling disgusted I thought of my only option, the savings account that I held so precious and I would probably have to inform my wife about. I was pissed that I didn't take some of the big win and place some in this account, which would have prevented the possible dilemma with the missus. 

While hunting my account book, I found an old watch in the drawer which gave me an idea; we have quite a bit of old jewelry, from inheritances and such perhaps I can sell them or at least get the gold value out. I remember especially a big broach from my grandmother which was 18K gold for sure.

Gathering the loose and old jewelry I went to the outfit that was buying gold as soon as I could. The jewelry did not have a lot of value due to broken pieces or missing stones, but the gold, primarily the broach, fetched $3,800, more that enough to cover my losses and nobody being the wiser.

I went to the pub I usually do to pay, a guy told me to hang while he rung someone up. After hanging up he told me to head to the back, thru the third door on the left, that Marcus wanted to see me. Having never met Marcus all this time, I was nervous and a little scared at the same time. 

Knocking and being told to come in, I saw a squirrelly looking guy sitting on the couch, he was small like a kid, skinny, very pale with red hair. He had the look of a want to be but couldn't make it if you know what I mean. However behind the desk sat a ruggedly handsome guy with long black hair combed straight back, dressed to the nine's smoking a cigar.

"Hey man, I'm Marcus, glad to finally meet you. Understand you got my money" he stated bluntly.

"Yes, yes I do" I stammered out nervously.

"Good, good, don't stand there, have a seat" Marcus ordered via his tone of voice.

Seating quickly and sinking down well below eye level to Marcus, I placed my envelope with cash on the desk within reach of his hands. He motioned to the small pale guy, who got up and snatched the envelope and counted the money; with a small nod he indicated to Marcus it was all there.

Marcus looked at me kind of smugly and said, "I like you man. As soon as you know something needs correcting, you follow thru right away. Yep, I do like smart men. But don't ever let this happen again. I had to get with my boss to cut you some slack since you always have been a regular and upfront dude. I didn't want Zippy over here to cut your balls off and feed them to your family" As he said that he looked over to the small guy who grinned broadly which highlighted a deep scar over his lip and some teeth missing.

"Are we clear man?" Marcus inquired.

"Clear as rain Marcus" I answered weakly.

Then with a waving motion of his free hand, Marcus gave me the get out signal. The scrawny red haired guy got up to close the door behind me. Boy was I glad to leave that room and bar and head straight home. On the drive I was convincing myself verbally that this was all she wrote, I was done; going straight, you name it; I was saying all the right things in order to stop this addiction.

My resolve lasted all of two weeks, after that the rush I needed took over and I was back to betting, although I dropped down to a maximum of $200. Forgotten was the dire warning I had gotten earlier, I upped the ante when the wins came in and I was riding high again. Then as before Marcus called with a sure winner, another lock. This was a boxing match, something I normally don't bet on so I hesitated while I reviewed my situation. If this was another minimum 5K bet, I probably could cover it with what I had accumulated.

I told Marcus I was in for the minimum which he confirmed, but the number was never stated; before I could confirm we were talking 5K, Marcus had hung up. All in all I was sure I was going to be Ok, I was confidant of Marcus's assurances. 

Monday afternoon, Marcus called my office to tell me that our pick had been knocked out and I would have to pay up. I told him I would bring the 5K by tomorrow, the phone went quiet and then a harsh breath came across.

"You fuck! The bet was 20K and I need it by tonight!" Marcus fumed into the phone.

Stunned, I did not know how to respond; I had been duped into the new minimum and never saw this coming from left field.

"Marcus, I only agreed to the minimum like last time, I only have 5K," I whispered into the phone.

"You stupid son of a bitch, this bet was 20K minimum and you better have it or else!" Marcus spewed over the line.

"I...I ... can get it by the end of the week" I stuttered.

"You get it tonight!" Marcus roared back. The phone call stopped with a slam down.

Shaking like a leaf, I left the office early and went to the closest watering hole to have a few doubles and try to think this through. There was no way I had this money in such short notice. I would have to take a 2nd mortgage, borrow from my folks or even thes.

Even if I sold my car, I would still be short. I couldn't down the whiskeys fast enough as I sat and sat trying to make a solution out of thin air. No way could I come up with the cash without my wife's knowledge, something I have been avoiding during this whole episode.

I left the bar before I was too wasted and headed to a secluded park that I knew, to work thru this again. Losing track of time, I finally drove to the house and arrived pretty late, after 10. I had ignored all my wife's calls while out; there had been at least a dozen, most of them coming in the last half hour.

Pulling into the drive I almost didn't notice the Escalante parked just beyond my drive; I briefly thought the neighbors had company.

Almost at the front door, the door opened and my wife stood there with a crestfallen look about her and also one of fear.

"What's the matter honey is something wrong with your parents?" I asked.

She peered over her shoulder to something in the house and as I entered I could see what or who it was. On my recliner sat the scrawny pasty white little guy from Marcus's office, Zippy. Standing next to him was a non human mammoth, a man with no neck and a bald head who had to be over 6'6 and 300 pounds. Both my wife, who had turned back in when I entered the house, and daughter sat on the sofa, obviously frightened beyond reason.

My first instinct was to run, but my legs were frozen plus I could not leave my family. My second instinct was to get them out of there ASAP. 

"Listen, whatever we talk about, my family does not need to be here, let them go" I commanded with a weak tone.

"Shut up you douche bag, snarled out the little man I do the talking here and they stay for now. Where the fuck is our money? You better have it"

"I don't have it. I can get it tomorrow at the bank" I lied.

Before pasty could reply my wife asked "What money. What is this man talking about?"

As I turned to look at her, the scrawny guy retorted "The money he fucking owes us, the loser. We want all the $23,000 now"

"What, I exclaimed. Marcus said it was $20,000, what are you talking about?"

"Collection fee's piss ant. You don't think our services don't have expenses, do you moron?" Red Hair hissed.

The hulking giant had moved behind the sofa where my wife and daughter sat and started cracking his knuckles quite loudly; enough to keep the fearful look on my family's faces.

The little man started to squirm on my recliner; a funny sight even under the circumstances, he looked like a kid in a big boy chair. There was a dreadful silence for what seemed like a long time but wasn't.

"Well, shithead, what's it gonna be" he quipped.

"I can't pay tonight, I weakly emitted out, but I can pay it by noon tomorrow"

"Noon is no good, Red hair said, but you got till 2 and it's now $25,000"

"Ok, Ok I agreed, you'll have it" I was just desperately hoping they would leave and not hurt anyone.

Little man got out of the chair and he and hulk slowly swaggered to the door without a care in the world. As soon as they were outside, I turned and told my wife and daughter to trust me and throw some clothes and stuff together, enough to tide them over for a few days, they were leaving town. My wife wanted to talk and get answers, I just told her to hurry up and I was going next door. Peering out to see if the Cadillac had left, I saw that it had, and I headed next door to my neighbors house.

Billy, my neighbor was a patrol cop; I figured if anyone would know what to do it would be him. I was too scared to wait; even though the hour was late I had to get help. Billy answered the door still in uniform, just coming off shift. I told him I needed his help.

Over coffee I told Billy the whole story, of course leaving out how long I actually gambled, but I certainly left him the impression that these were hardened criminals who should be stopped. Billy agreed that I should send the family into hiding and he started making calls to other police from the info I gave him. Of course the only name I had was Marcus but I did know the hangouts and the address of where his office was.

Billy got his wife up and she agreed to drive my wife and daughter to a motel in the next town and stay with them for the night. They would await further instructions in the morning. I went back home and told my wife to go with Billy's wife and I will explain tomorrow about everything. I gave them both a kiss and told them how sorry I was this happened.

Billy made a few more calls and then I crashed on his couch from exhaustion that set in despite the adrenaline pouring thru my veins. 

The phone started early, a little after 6 and it didn't stop ringing. Around 9 Billy said we needed to go downtown, not to the police station but to the FBI. 

Arriving, we were ushered in to see special agent Stanford who headed up a RICO unit, or organized crime division. Also in the room was an enforcement agent from the IRS named Bentley. I had to repeat my story to the agents and they took copious notes and asked me often to repeat myself for clarity. After several hours of this we took a break, I asked Billy and the agents what I was to do because the 2pm deadline was approaching and I had made no efforts to get the cash yet.

Stanford looked at me and asked if I was up to handling a sting operation. I asked what that was and what was expected of me. Both Bentley and Stanford started telling me what they had in mind.

They knew of Marcus and the little man and even the hulk guy. They were fishing for more. Marcus's boss was someone they identified as Rubio. This is the guy they wanted, they had some evidence of racketeering and money laundering but not enough to convict. The best charges could be brought by the IRS for tax evasion, but they would have to catch them in the act. That is where I was to come in. They would furnish funds for my debt if I could set up a meet with Rubio and Marcus and have them receive my $25,000 cash. That would mean a wire but as soon as I left, they would come in with force and make the arrest.

I had misgivings from the onset of their request. I didn't know Rubio from Adam, how was I going to convince Marcus to have him in our meeting. I was questioning all the things that could go wrong and how safe was I going to be. The only thing I liked was them putting the money up, because honestly there was no way I could at this point.

I asked about the safety of my family; they said as long as they were hiding it would be alright, they did not offer any protective custody or any other kind of help.

With no choices left open to me, I agreed to the sting. They outfitted my shoe with a microphone; all I would have to do is cross my legs and make sure the shoe was up off the floor. Most of the equipment I would use would be in the shoe, making it more foolproof from inspection if they felt inclined to frisk me.

Another agent came in with a small duffel bag containing the money which was also marked and ink packed so it could be traced. All that was left was to call and try to get this Rubio guy in on the play. It was now slightly after noon.

I called Marcus's number and got the little guy, I could tell now by his voice, and asked for Marcus. He put me on hold and we waited and waited, finally the voice on the other end.

"You got my money?" Marcus snarled into the line.

"Yes I do, I replied, but I have some questions and I want an assurance that this won't happen again. If something happens to my family we are done"

"Who the fuck are you to make demands, you little shit, Marcus screamed. I tell you to jump and you don't get to ask how high"

"Just wait a second, I replied. I never knew you were going to jump the minimum to that level, and now you're tacking on another 5K, I need to know how to avoid that in the future. I need to talk to your boss, if you have one"

Dead silence on the other end which told me of brewing anger, before Marcus came back on.

"What makes you think I'm not in charge?" inquired Marcus.

"I have no idea if you have a boss or not, but your attitude tells me you don't have final say, if you did you would cut me some slack" I gambled with those comments.

"What do you have in mind?" questioned Marcus.

Taking a deep breath I answered, "Look, when your goons came to my house last night it not only scared my family to death, I now have to explain my lies to my wife. It cost me big time and for that I just want a guarantee from a boss that there will never be another misunderstanding like this again. I will do everything I can not to go thru that again"

I was hoping my spin was making an impression and not going to crater. I waited for a reply that was long in coming.




The Biggest Loser Of All Time



"Do you have my $25,000?"

"Yes, I've got it with me now. I can meet you now. What about my request?" I hoped for the best.

"6th and Dixie, 2pm, don't be one second late" click.

That was a new address to me I told the agents. Perhaps this was good news. Someone looked in a file and looked up shaking his head up and down, yes Rubio was known to frequent that location. We may have lucked out.

To say that I was nervous would be a lie; I was stone cold petrified. Visions of a gun battle raged in my head, with me in the crosshairs. What kind of cesspool did I fall in with my arrogance? I was hoping to get through this without defecating in my pants.

On the drive over to the location, agents Stanford and Bentley were going over final instructions with me. Once I had handed the money over and gotten out of the building safely, they would swarm in and make the arrests. My testimony could be important, but they felt their tax evasion charge would trump the others and I may not be needed, which of course I wanted to hear.

Pulling up to the bar/club I noticed a man enter just as we were pulling up. I was told that he was a front man, someone to case the place out and be in place as my first line of defense. If it got ugly, he had orders to take them out.

Swallowing hard to calm my nerves, I got set to go. Grabbing the duffel bag, I entered the club and headed over to the bar, where I spotted the undercover agent on the far end already with a beer. I walked up to the bartender like I was a bad dude and asked for Marcus. He glanced at my bag and head pointed me to the back of the room and to a staircase.

Heading back, I passed the agent who just stared ahead, not recognizing me and started up the stairs. Reaching the top there was a hallway with a large tattooed guy standing at a doorway. As I came upon him, he frisked me roughly from the neck down to my calves and turned and opened the door.

Inside it was dimly lit and I could see several people in various places in the room. I spotted Marcus behind a desk and that creep, Zippy. Also standing against the wall was the other asshole that had been at my house. Another man sat in a chair across the room with an obvious bodyguard next to him. Even further back in the shadows, appeared the silhouette of a woman smoking a long cigarette. In hindsight, I really could not tell what sex the person was, that part of the room was just to dark.

Marcus motioned me forward and to sit. The appearance I was to make was of a guy wanting to make a statement, but also scared shitless, if that was possible. I had the shitless part down solid. After I sat, Marcus motioned for Zippy to grab the bag which he did. After a few awkward seconds, Zippy nodded and passed the bag to the bodyguard of the other man, who I now sensed to be the elusive Rubio.

Allowing Marcus to light a new cigar, he gazed and me and started to speak.

"Alright, I have senior management here, what's on your mind?" he asked.

"Marcus, I began, I don't know why this happened. I thought I was doing everything the way you asked. You never told me the new minimum was 20K so I assumed I was making the old 5K wager. I never intended for this to get out of hand and I never wanted my family involved. Tell me how we can avoid this in the future?"

The man I assumed was Rubio spoke next.

"I can see how upsetting this is for you. It looks like we have a simple misunderstanding here, something that can be handled better" he stated.

As I gazed at Rubio, he was somewhat older, maybe 60 or so, with an ugly scar across his forehead. Like Marcus, he was dressed well and could have passed for an attorney or other respected businessman.

Rubio continued, "You have been a good customer and we appreciate your patronage, but you have to understand in our business, collections are paramount. In most cases we don't deal with people like you that pay up, so we have to make them pay. I tell you, to help you with your issues at home; I'll send a nice bouquet of flowers to your wife and express our apologies for the misunderstanding. How's that sound?

I was flabbergasted; I didn't expect this reaction at all. I almost felt bad for the sting that was about to happen, since this Rubio chap came across so cool.

I did have my legs crossed so the bugged shoe could capture all the talk. It was odd looking as I spun around in this position to front both Rubio and Marcus. I looked at Marcus, trying to keep him on the friendly side and asked if he was ok with this.

Marcus responded bluntly, "Mr. Rubio speaks for us all"

It was clear then that this was the elusive Rubio wanted by the FBI and others.

I then turned to Rubio and said," I thank you for your understanding and I want to assure you that I would like to continue our business relationship on this fresh start. I understand your business practices better now and I assure you this will never happen again"

"Good, very good, said Rubio. Go home, kiss the wife and have some makeup sex that always helps clear the air." His people all chuckled at that line.

As I was getting up to leave, I still could not make out the shadowy figure in the back but it was moving toward a rear exit. Zippy, with that idiotic look about him, led me to the door and let me out. I headed down the stairs as fast as I could, and then on cue, my front man dropped some matches on the floor which both he and I went to pick up. This is when I was to give him information.

I whispered "One at the door, 5 inside, including Marcus and Rubio"

Once upright, I headed straight for the door quickly, passing about 10 agents storming in with guns drawn telling people to stand still. Looking back as I exited, several were charging up the staircase.

I was out of sight in a tinted suburban when the first people were let out in cuffs. It started with the door guard; it took two officers to escort him because of his size. Then good old Zippy that scrawny pimple of a man almost being dragged out and appeared he was whimpering. Finally the charming Rubio and Marcus came out, expressionless, but a swagger that they were still in charge and showcasing we'll be right back attitude.

Agent Stanford came to the vehicle I was in and quickly sat inside.

"That's it. We got them all and confiscated the money. We'll let the courts decide now. Good job everyone" he said.

"How many did you pickup?" I inquired.

"We got all 5" Stanford responded.

"But there were 6. The figure in the shadow that I couldn't make out if male or female"

"It's ok Stanford tried to reassure me. The main players are in custody, the other person is small fry. As long as we have Rubio and the bonus of Marcus, we will have crushed this organization"

It was then back to the FBI offices for the arduous paperwork and report phase of this operation. This went on late into the night; during this time I called Billy my neighbor's, wife and asked to speak with my wife and daughter. I told them everything was all right to come home and I would explain the whole mess tonight. I calmed her by down by saying the guys in our house that night were going to prison and wouldn't bother us again. We said our I love you's and would see each other later.

We were almost finished with everything close to 9pm, when Billy walked in and said he just got off shift and he would drive me home if I needed it, plus his wife called, my wife and kid were back in the house safe and sound, waiting. I wasn't so sure I could speak with them just yet; Billy noticed that in me and suggested we stop for a drink on the way home. I agreed readily.

At the bar, Billy and I discussed the day's events; I thanked him continually for his help and understanding. Billy said his dad was an alcoholic so he fully understood the damage that an addiction can cause. We downed a number of beers and lost track of time, suddenly realizing it was after midnight.

We pulled up Billy's car to my house; all three cars were there, the house fully dark. It was after 1am, I assumed everyone had gone to bed. This was even better, I wouldn't have to talk tonight and open up with a clear head in the morning. I said my goodnights to Billy and told him to thank his wife as well, and proceeded up the walk.

I tried to be as quiet as possible and entered the house without noise. It was eerily quiet, but hey, everyone was asleep. Usually we have a nightlight in the hallway, tonight it was out, better check the tiny bulb in the morning, I surmised.

Our bedroom door was open; I could see the outline of my wife lying in bed. I undressed as quietly as possible, went into the master bath brushed my teeth silently and went to bed. Sliding in softly to not disturb the wife, I became aware that there was no sound. Normally my wife while sleeping, does this mini snore by blowing air out of her mouth, kind of like blowing out birthday candles. Maybe she took a sleeping pill and that put her really out I thought.

Trying to get comfortable, I tossed and turned a little, never disturbing the wife. My hand reached near her form and I felt something damp and then wet. Maybe she was sweating or that dam cat of ours pissed in the bed again, something she was known to do. I felt around a little more and it was wet over a large area and cold to the touch.

I then remembered I needed to take a piss, so I got out of bed. In the master toilet I flicked on the light, and started to relieve myself; looking down my eyes widened, my hand holding my dick was red, blood red. Shocked that I may have cut myself, I examined my hand and found no cut. This was not my blood.

I stumbled back into the bedroom, turned on the overhead light and had the most crushing shock and horror of my life. My wife was lying on her stomach, hand to the floor, blood everywhere, but especially by her head. Blood splatter was on the walls, headboard and throughout the bed itself. Reeling, I fell backward into the wall, which kept me from falling down. There was so much blood; I just knew she was dead.

With emotions running off the chart, I remembered my daughter in her room. Racing with what felt like heavy legs, I got to her door and opened it. Turning on the lights, I bellowed out a scream amid cries of despair. My daughter was spread eagled on the bed, hands tied above her to the headboard, bloodied like her mother, but with it pooling by her private area as well. I could look but once, I knew she to, was gone.

I collapsed into the hall, balling like an infant, unable to think or do anything. My family, my world was gone. My beautiful wife and gorgeous daughter now lay in pools of blood, their lives ripped away. I saw the phone on the stand in the hall and crawled and struggled to reach it. I did the only thing I had a rational thought of doing, I called my neighbor Billy.

Incoherent on the call, I urged him to come over now. Billy arrived to the horror within a minute and surveyed the scene in both rooms. He took the phone from me; I was still on the hall floor, unable to control my sobbing. I remember Billy calling 911 and then the station to get a forensic team out ASAP. He stated to the operators a double homicide, which hit me to the core.

When the first responders arrived, I was led outside with a blanket around my shoulders and placed on the bumper of an EMS vehicle. People were now converging on my home, lights flashing and neighbors started to gather. Some people tried to talk to me or just ask what happened or was I ok; I was numb and responded to no one.

The scene went on for hours to the point where daylight was approaching. Slowly certain vehicles were leaving the scene, police cruisers, detectives and forensics. Billy asked me to come with him and not look at the house anymore, I couldn't and I saw the two gurneys come out with body bags. I fell on my knees and cried no over and over again.

I spent the night on Billy's couch; his wife gave me a sedative and a sleeping pill so I could rest. In the morning Billy told me he would keep me informed as best he could, the detectives from homicide were top notch and would get to the bottom of it all.

Over the next several days I hung around Billy's house in a stupor, usually medicated to calm my mind. Billy came in and told me to sit, he had some information.

Making sure I really wanted to hear this, Billy said the preliminary report was graphic and detailed and would probably disturb me. None the less, I asked him to tell me all.

Sometime during the hours 8-12 (midnight), a time I was still at the FBI offices and then with Billy, one maybe two people had entered my house. They had taken my wife to our bedroom, ordered her to strip naked and lie on her stomach. Taking a pillow, she was shot twice in the back of the head, killing her instantly. My daughter had been tied up and sexually assaulted both vaginally and anally before she to, was shot twice in the head. She probably saw it coming if she was still conscious after the rapes.

I couldn't take anymore and ran to the bathroom to throw up.

After I weakly returned from vomiting, Billy continued. The police were convinced it was a hit, by the nature of the kills and bullets and method used. It was in retaliation to the sting with the FBI was the assumption. My thought instantly went to the shadowy figure that got away.

Taking some deep breaths to recapture my composure, Billy went on. Based on the forensics they got there was little to go on evidence wise to match the killers up. Even DNA recovered via my daughter, revealed no match on the data base. By all indications, unless someone confessed, my family's murder may become a cold case statistic.

Several weeks have passed, I'm still camping out at Billy's place, and I can't live in my house again. We moved stuff out after cleaning up and re painting; Billy's wife is a realtor and we placed it on the market. I have been unable to return to work even after exhausting my vacation time and I was subsequently fired. I have also been selling my possessions, cars, furniture, anything that would fetch a decent price.

After another month or so, the house was sold with just a small equity. Obviously what had happened in the house dampened the resale value, but nonetheless I was glad to have it off my back. Billy's wife helped me rent a subsidized apartment and we placed most of my leftover stuff in storage. The apartment was on the bus line, so I had no use for my car and expenses, so that was sold. My head and my misery would not let me go back to work except for little day jobs, such as dishwasher and working landscape. I was hitting the bottle pretty hard and usually drank a bottle a day.

I often thought of suicide but I was too gutless and would drink instead. It was a slower and more costly death perhaps but it was easier. Living one day at a time was my motto.

EPILOG

It's been about 7 months since the murders. I'm still living day to day. No evidence or clues have surfaced for my wife and daughter's murders, a cold case as I assumed.

My services for the trials were not needed; Marcus pleaded guilty to some lesser charges and would be out of prison within 3 years. Zippy had made some plea deals for information; his throat was cut ear to ear while in detention awaiting his sentence.

A couple of the goons involved got more time since this was their third offences. 

Rubio, well he is still awaiting trial, his attorneys are trying to make a simple deal of paying back taxes and fines. No one knows of the shadowy figure I saw that fateful day; there was speculation that there was a higher boss than Rubio and it may be a woman.

Today opening the mail I got a pleasant surprise, I had two envelopes from an insurance company that I used to use. Inside were two checks, 50K for the death of my wife and 25K for my daughter. I looked at the checks and then looked at the phone; this went on for several minutes.

Finally I picked up the phone, dialed it; when I got a pickup I said into the line,

"Hey Joey, give me $200 on race number ..........

Yes, the biggest loser of all time.



The Biggest Loser



"I'll be really hurt if you go in there Carl." She said. I turned and saw Debbie standing behind me. She was dressed for class as usual and staring intently at me. "For today, why don't you come to my class like you always have? Then I'd like to talk to you after class. Tomorrow you can do whatever you like, Okay?" she held out her tiny hand and I nodded my head and took it. We went back to Debbie's workout room and did her class. "Take a shower and meet me back here, please," she told me.

A half hour later I was standing in front of the workout room waiting for Debbie to return. I don't know what was going on with her. She probably wanted to give me another chewing out about the dangers of working out alone, and how it violated the camp's safety rules and could lead to a person being expelled from the camp. She was probably going to tell me that it was her duty to report me to the camp director. Whatever it was, there was no way it could make me feel any worse than the news I'd already gotten this morning. I'd heard from my PI that Sarah had brought that guy she'd been seeing back to my home last night and he'd spent the night.

I was still mulling over how I was going to handle Sarah, when Debbie showed up and wiped her from my mind totally. Debbie, despite her drill sergeant manner, is very petite. She's probably about 5'1"and weighs about 120 soaking wet. She has inky black hair and grey eyes. Her hair comes down to just beneath her shoulder blades and has a life of its own. Often while she's doing an exercise her hair fans out behind her or forms a curtain hiding her face. 

My favorite thing to see, is when she turns and looks at her class over one shoulder and that hair obscures one side of her face so that only one of those beautiful piercing grey eyes looks at you. It's as if that eye is looking into your soul to find out if you can make just one more rep than you thought you could. Her boobs while not huge are sizeable and really determine what kind of clothing she can wear. They alone, are the reason there are so many guys in Debbie's exercise classes. Her classes are tough but most of the guys prefer them to the easier classes just so they can ogle Debby. Debbie's ass is another story. It is really difficult to describe, because the only words that come to mind are things like perfect or kissable. Her ass isn't huge, but it's tight and firm and round. So tight in fact, that I'm positive you could bounce a quarter off of it. Word around the camp is that Debby is probably a raging lesbian, but her classes are full any way.

When Debbie showed up in a loose fitting sweatshirt, and mid-calf length jeans, I was surprised. I'd never before seen her with clothes on. I guess in my mind she'd been born in a leotard. She had all of that luxurious black hair pinned up on top of her head and huge sunglasses obscuring her incredible eyes. The outfit on a normal woman would have been great for a trip to the mall or running errands or doing yard work on a lazy Saturday afternoon. On Debbie it just opened up a whole new world of fantasies. It made her look more human, maybe even vulnerable.

She smiled at me and nodded her head towards the exit. This confused me because I thought we were going to talk.

"Uhm Debbie," I began.

"Relax Carl, you're not in trouble, and you won't be in trouble. I just wanted us to talk," she began. "And usually when I want to think, I get in my jeep and drive out into the desert. It clears my head and just makes everything better. Usually by the time I get back, I've either solved my problem, or it just doesn't seem as bad as it was before I left. Maybe it's just stress relief, maybe it just lets me put things into their proper perspective, but it seems to work somehow. And Carl, whether you know it or not, you've become a problem for me."

My heart sank at the words. This was just great, I'd become a problem for her. Shit, I had enough problems of my own without worrying about some other woman hating me. She led me out the back to the staff parking lot and a black jeep wrangler. I guess somehow I was expecting it to be a pink, real life version of the Barbie Dream Jeep. It would have fit her size and her appearance, but I guess the Black Wrangler fit her personality better. 

I got in and had to hold on, since she immediately took off as soon as the door closed. We drove down the highway for a few moments and then she just careened around a corner onto an unpaved road that I would have missed since it was unmarked. We sped through a few trees and hedges that became sparser the further we drove until suddenly there was no vegetation and we were in the desert. Arid, sandy ground spread out in front of us all the way to the mountains in the distance. Debbie put the jeep into four wheel drive and slowed down a bit as we plowed down the now uneven and still unpaved road surface. She seemed to know where she was going so I just held on.

Finally we got to the edge of a medium sized canyon and Debbie, in a clearly practiced move drove us right up to the lip. Another foot or two and we'd have been dangling over the edge. She pulled up the parking brake and got out and wandered over to sit down on a large rock that overlooked the canyon. 

She looked out over the huge gash in the earth's surface and seemed to relax, as if gathering herself. Then she turned to me and gave me the high beams. Those grey eyes peering at me the way she'd look at a bug on her windshield.

"Carl what the hell is going on with you?" she asked snapping me out of my stupor. "When you first got here, you were just another fat, spoiled rich boy who didn't take the place seriously, so I didn't take you seriously. You had your little conference calls, your late night pizza runs, and you hung out with all of the rest of the class clowns. We see about a hundred guys like that every year. You come here over weight and out of shape and maybe if you're lucky you lose 4 or 5 pounds and then go back home and tell everyone how tough it was. Some of them make a ritual out of it and do it every year," she snapped.

Her eyes softened and her tone became less biting, and she actually moved closer to where I was sitting. "But then something happened and you changed. I don't know why and I don't know what it was, but you became different. The first day that you showed up for my class and stood right up front, I was sure you wouldn't last 10 minutes. In fact I tried to get rid of you, but you gave it everything you had. You left there dripping with sweat and I was sure this change wouldn't last, but I was intrigued. 

Over the past few weeks, I've watched you undergo an incredible transformation. You've not only lost an incredible amount of weight, you've gotten yourself into very good shape. You're to the point now where you're barely over weight at all. You don't even look like the man that came here. "

This was something I'd never expected, it seemed to be some kind of back handed compliment, and coming from Debbie it was shocking. "You probably don't know this but when the changes started to happen, I changed as well," she said. "I went from being sure you wouldn't last, to being your biggest cheerleader. I watched as you started your night time desert runs. I also watched as you started lifting weights at night as well. That's why I was there the other night when you over did it. Most people who've lost half of the weight you have, even when they haven't gotten into nearly the shape you're in now, find themselves fulfilled and happy. They're more confident, they've done a great thing and they're proud of themselves. 

In the ceremony we're having next month before the camp closes for the season, you're going to get several awards, but don't tell anyone I told you that. But you don't seem happy at all. It's almost backwards with you. Most people come here sad and depressed because they're over weight and people make fun of them or whatever. They lose some weight, they get happy, and they go home more confident. You were happy when you got here, maybe a little angry but you were confident and secure. You worked your ass off and made more progress than anyone I can remember. You look great, but you're so much sadder and more withdrawn now, that it makes me sad as well. You used to sit in the back and laugh with those clowns and you were happy. Now you inspire so many of both the campers and the staff, but you run off and work out even harder alone."

"Carl, I know what people around here think about me, I've heard all of my nicknames, and I really don't care. For me, being here is just a job. It's my job to help people find it within themselves to make the changes in their weight and their health; nothing less, but also nothing more. I urge them to change, I provide an example for that change, and I help them to workout. Some of them get it, some of them don't, but it's never personal. It's only a job, but somewhere over the past couple of months you became less of a job and way more personal to me. That's why I snapped at you the other night. Because when I saw that bar coming down on you, it scared the shit out of me. I thought you might've gotten seriously hurt or worse and in the back of my mind, I thought that maybe you wanted to."

I looked at her and saw tears running down Debbie's cheeks. I was really shocked. I reached out and hugged her. She seemed to need to talk, so I just listened. She told me about her life, and it was nothing like I'd expected. She'd started out competing in gymnastics but she didn't have the short thick muscular body that the average competitive gymnast has, so she got injured more frequently. There are also drugs and cocktails that a lot of the girls took to delay the onset of breast development and widening of the hips. She didn't take them, so very soon she was falling in the rankings because as hard as she worked, she couldn't compete with the girls who were doing the drugs. They also seemed to be more injury resistant and had more energy. 

After a while of spinning her wheels, she decided to simply give it up, which was very hard on her, but she moved into a different sport. She'd always been pretty, so she decided to give fitness competitions a try. It wasn't quite like being a body builder but it was close. But the emphasis was on femininity and grace other than outright muscularity and size. She was good at it, but then again the drugs reared their ugly head and far worse. In a lot of cases the women who won the competitions and got the endorsements were actually giving the sponsors and the judges a few side benefits. 

Men had always looked at her even when she was a gymnast, but here it was almost as if it was expected. After she was nearly raped, and saved only because she was screaming so loudly that the security team came in, she gave up fitness as well. She went back to school, got her degrees in Exercise Physiology and Kinesiology and started a career as a personal trainer. She's been working at the camp for the past 6 years.

After all of that, I felt closer to her than I'd been to anyone in a long time. So I told her about why I'd come to the camp. I told her about my wife Sarah and how Sarah really didn't care about my health at all. I told her that Sarah had just been embarrassed by me and wanted to send me away so she could cheat on me behind my back, with someone in better shape.

"Well she won't be embarrassed by you anymore," she said. "The next time she sees you she'll be all over you."

"Nope, the next time she sees me will be in divorce court," I said. "I kept trying to see things from her point of view. I had to admit that I'd let myself go. And she had been totally right to want me to be in better shape. But the way she went about it and the things that she said about me really hurt me and they made me question whether or not she even cares about me. But the cheating is just the last straw. That was the deal breaker for me. The other things maybe I could have forgiven after a while. But I'll never be able to trust her again."

That night changed a lot of things, from then on I still did Debbie's class every day but she pushed me even harder. A lot of the guys were jealous as hell when I did my pushups with Debbie lying on my back. She even went out and ran with me at night sometimes. We never did anything outside of the bounds of friendship, but sometimes when she looked at me a certain way, I got tingles.

At home things were getting ugly. According to the PI firm Sarah had broken off her affair with her old college friend. Apparently, he'd only been interested in her for sex and my money. He'd been practically living in my house spending several days a week there and even his wife was beginning to complain. The final straw had been when he and Sarah had started arguing. She'd been trying to break things off with him because the dirtiness and the thrill of it had passed, but he didn't want to let her go. She started calling me again to find out when I'd be coming home. She began leaving me messages about how much she missed me and loved me.

Since the camp would be closing down for about a month at the end of the season anyway, I knew I'd have to go home soon. Debbie and I went out shopping, because I needed new clothes. After losing nearly 140 pounds none of my old clothes would fit. While I was out shopping I saw something that I'd always dreamed of but could never have. A Bright Red 2009 Mustang GT, in a car lot across from the mall. I went onto the lot and looked the car over. The door was open so I sat down. I was shocked. Over a hundred pounds ago, I could barely fit in my shitty Chrysler. But now I could easily get into and out of a car that I just loved. I found a salesman and started the paper work. As soon as he ran my credit and I arranged a transfer from my account, I drove off the lot in my new toy. Debbie followed me back to camp in her jeep.

I made a few phone calls to my PI and my lawyer, I called Sarah and told her that the camp would be ending on the weekend and they were having a ceremony for the families and friends of the campers. She told me she'd be there and she sounded excited about seeing me again.

"Don't get too excited," I told her, "This may not be a happy occasion for you."

"Carl, over the past few months, I've realized that looks aren't everything." She claimed. "It's far more important to be with someone who loves you and supports you, no matter what they weigh or how they look. So even if you've only lost 1 fucking pound, it's time for you to come home so we can move on with our lives. I love you and I miss you. I've had a lot of time to myself to figure out what I really want and what I really need in my life. I miss my big strong Teddy Bear of a husband."

Over the next few days I did several more significant things to alter my life and my job. Some of the things I did I kept secret even from Debbie. Debbie was an entirely different story; she seemed to get needier and clingier as the ceremony approached. The night before the ceremony we had dinner so I could thank her for all of the help and inspiration she had provided. She actually held my hand for a while as we talked.

"So I guess, our time is over," she said. "Tomorrow your wife will be at the ceremony and you can go back to Ohio and either put her in her place or divorce her."

"Yes," I said softly. I guess I missed the sadness in her tone, because my mind was on other things. We drove back to camp with the silence framed by the Mustang's throaty engine note. There were a lot of things that were unsaid between Debbie and me.

"I know that you've been far too honorable a man to even think about starting up some kind of a relationship while you were still married," she began. "But is there any chance that you've made up your mind about whether or not you're going to take her back? I guess what I'm asking about is the possibility that someone might just send me a plane ticket to Ohio some time soon."

"Debbie, we've always been honest with each other," I said. And whether or not you know this, I have really deep feelings for you, so I'm not going to start lying now. There won't be any plane tickets to Ohio or anywhere else coming." She nodded her head and I didn't see her again until the ceremony.

The next day was strange for me. I got up early and went out for my run alone. I guess for most of the campers the weeks or months of working out and dieting were over. But for me running had become a part of what I am, so just because I didn't have to do it, didn't mean I'd skip it.

After the run I looked for Debbie and couldn't find her anywhere. A couple of the staffers said that she was holed up in her living quarters and not feeling well. I also heard that Sarah was looking all over the complex trying to find me. As a joke I went down to the auditorium and looked for her. I saw her and passed right by her, but she didn't recognize me.

Once the ceremony began everyone went into the auditorium. I got a really great treat too. I actually saw Debbie standing near Sarah. So I got a chance to compare them side by side. It was like comparing apples to oranges though. Sarah has short blonde hair and a tall thin body. She isn't nearly as fit as Debbie but she's thin and pretty. Debbie on the other hand has just heart-stopping beauty but is shorter. Debbie was talking to someone, apparently about me and Sarah overheard them and freaked out. She stalked away from the table and went and sat down. She saw me looking at her and I smiled at her. She turned her head away and I laughed. She obviously thought I was some guy flirting with her. 

For the past 6 months she'd been dating and fucking her old married college buddy, Thomas Hill. She'd taken him to my house, and fucked him in my bed, but now she was too pure to have a stranger smile at her.

As the ceremony continued every time Sarah heard my name she turned trying to catch a glimpse of me. Finally I was called to go up onto the stage to get my awards. I got one award for most pounds lost in a one month period. I got another for largest overall weight loss. And the last one I received was for most inspirational camper because I'd come in totally out of shape and had not only lost a lot of weight but had improved my fitness and my lifestyle and provided an inspiring and motivating example for everyone around me. As I spoke and looked out over the audience, I noticed that Sarah was sitting on the edge of her seat. She was clearly agog at my appearance. She really couldn't believe it was her fat assed husband on the stage. I was asked to say a few words so I did.

"It's really easy to fall into the trap of eating too much and doing too little," I began. It's much harder to climb out of that trap. In most cases we get so deep in the trap that we can't climb out by ourselves and we need someone to help us or inspire us or just downright push us out of the trap we fell into. A lot has been said today about my weight loss and my fitness gains. Less has been said about the uplifting of my spirits, without which everything else would be moot. For all of those things there has been one woman who was the catalyst for all of those changes. She stood there on the sidelines while I ran and starved and lifted. Maybe she wasn't there when I ran, maybe I didn't see her when I lifted the weights, but when I fell, she was always there to pick me up. Come on up here so everyone can see you you...and I hesitated to let Sarah stand up and take a step towards the podium before I said, "Debbie."

Everyone in the audience and on the stage reacted and cheered, as Debbie got up and came onto the stage to join me. If looks could kill, the glance that Sarah gave Debbie as she walked past her would have been fatal. Debbie shook my hand as I hugged her for several pictures and then the director had a few final words and everyone adjourned for the dinner that followed the ceremony.




The Biggest Loser



A few minutes after nearly everyone had left the room, Sarah came storming towards me and Debbie.

"No wonder you wanted to stay up here for so fucking long," she screamed. "You just wanted to betray me with this whore while I waited at home for you."

"Sarah, at this point, Debbie and I are only friends," I said. "We have never had sex, we have never slept together and we have never even kissed, so before you start making a fool out of yourself you should probably be quiet."

"I'm sorry baby," said Sarah. "It's just that you look so good. You're so slim and so different. I was jealous. And I've been alone in that house for so long. And I've been so lonely waiting for you. I can't wait to get home and try out the new you."

"So you've been alone and lonely?" I asked. In reply, she nodded her head vigorously. "So who is this you're out with?" I asked her showing her an 8X10 photo of her in a restaurant with Thomas Hill.

"Oh he's just an old friend from college who I ran into, he's nothing," she said.

"He's something," I snapped. "He's the reason we're getting a divorce, Sarah. I know all about him. I know that you actually started up with him before I left. I know that being with him, is the reason you really wanted me to come to the camp anyway. I know that you were just too embarrassed to be seen with the fat husband who loved you with all of his heart and soul, but also because you wanted to fuck someone with a better body who could satisfy you. Yep, I've even got you on tape saying it, so don't bother trying to lie your way out of this. I also know and have pictures of you taking him into my house. That really was my house Sarah. You've never had a job so your name isn't even on the mortgage. And in my house, you fucked him in my bed Sarah, so there's really nothing else to say here." As I turned to leave my lawyer's messenger stepped up and handed her the divorce papers.

"But Carl, can't we talk about this, it's over. It was just a fling, just a mistake. I ended it myself because I really did miss you. Once the thrill of it was gone, I came to my senses and realized that I do love you, and you love me and we have more in common than anyone else I know. The only thing I didn't like about you was all of that fat, but it's gone now."

"Well Sarah, I guess we both came to our senses. I realized after I found out about your fling, that I really didn't want to be married to someone who was embarrassed by me. The thrill of being married to you was gone when I heard all of the things you said about me.

"You're right about one thing though," I said. "We do have a lot in common. You were embarrassed to be seen with a fat guy, so you sent me away. I'm embarrassed to be seen with a whore, so get to stepping."

"We can get past this," she said softly. "Just come home, we'll talk, we'll go through counseling. We have too much history to just throw away."

"It's already settled," I said slowly. "We live in a community property state. In most cases even though I can prove your infidelity, the judge will insist on a 50/50 split of the assets. We have no kids, so we have nothing to dispute. Our home represents 70% of our net worth. I'm giving it to you. That means you've gotten a better settlement than the courts would give you. Of course since you don't have and never have had a fucking job in your life, you're going to have to sell it. You won't be able to afford the property taxes in that enighborhood without my income. And of course with the real estate market in the toilet you won't get anywhere near it's appraised value. And realistically you probably won't be able to sell it." I smiled at her cruelly. "If you push for alimony or spousal support, I'll ruin you Sarah. I'll make the reason for our divorce not nly public knowledge, but I'll get every one of your friends and family a copy of the pictures and video tapes. Just walk away and we'll both come out ahead." Her outh dropped open in surprise and she started crying.

"Sarah, I hope you have some cash on you, because just before I came to the ceremony, I cancelled all of your credit cards and closed all of our joint accounts. At least you're better off than I am, I'm currently homeless," I said.

"But where will you live? Why don't you stay with me and let me make this up to you," she shrieked, realizing that there was no way she'd be able to continue in the lifestyle she was used to without me.

"You haven't cared about me since you first started cheating on me, so I don't know why you care now. But I could never set foot inside that house again anyway. That's why I gave it to you. I moved my office here to Arizona and I'm buying a house here too. I'm starting my life all over again with someone who won't be ashamed of me. Sarah, I lost over a hundred and forty pounds while I was here. So they're kind of proud of me, but you lost a husband, who would have loved you forever, and a great home and the family we could have had. All because you couldn't keep your legs closed. My weight was really just an excuse you used to have your little affair. So if you ask me you're the real champ here, you're the biggest loser."

I just walked away and left her standing there. I got into my Mustang and drove away. The only contact I had with her was through our lawyers. I did receive a phone call from her Dad, telling me how miserable she was, and asking me if I'd consider coming back to Ohio just for a visit to clear the air. It forced me to tell him the details of our breakup and what she'd done. I told him if he needed proof I could send him pictures, audio tapes and even video. He just told me to have a nice life. And I've taken his advice. Debbie and I have a great life. We have gone to Ohio on business, and all of my friends and colleagues are shocked at the changes in my body and my life. They all love Debbie and tell me often that I did the right thing.

Sarah isn't doing so well. She gained a lot of weight and is having trouble losing it. She sold the house, for about half of what it was worth, and moved into a smaller one. Then she pissed most of the money away. She finally had to move in with her parents and take a job at a 7 eleven. Working is hard on her. She doesn't eat well and is piling on the pounds. She's so embarrassed by the way she looks that she rarely leaves the house. I sent her a brochure for the fitness boot camp that I went to. I really wasn't trying to rub her face in it. I was genuinely trying to help her. Since she couldn't afford the camp, Debbie and I offered to pay for it for her and even let her stay with us while she was here. We're so happy; we wanted to share our joy with her as well. After all, if Sarah hadn't been so embarrassed by me, Debbie and I would never have met. Sadly Sarah declined.