News

By Sonja Seer

“When Mother Nature decided to play thermometer roulette with the planet, nobody expected the food chain to get quite so… personal.

First, the weather went bonkers – one day you’re frying eggs on the sidewalk, the next you’re using your freezer as a warm refuge.

As crops failed and food became scarce, even the wealthy West discovered that money can’t buy dinner when there’s nothing left to buy.

But amid this global hunger games, one group found themselves in a particularly juicy predicament: bodybuilders.

After all, when you’ve spent years turning yourself into a walking protein bank, you shouldn’t be surprised when people start eyeing you like a well-marinated investment.”

In what experts are calling the most ironic twist of the climate crisis, bodybuilders – who spent decades consuming the planet’s protein supplies – have now become the protein supply themselves.

“I used to worry about my macros,” says Chad Flexington, a 280-pound mass of quivering muscle currently barricaded inside Gold’s Gym.

“Now I worry about becoming someone else’s macros.” He adjusts his newly-mandated titanium bodysuit, a government-issued protection required for all individuals with over 15% muscle mass.

When The Sudden Swings Between Hot and Cold Destroyed The Food Supply

The crisis began when global warming decimated traditional protein sources by sudden cold when it was supposed to be warm and then sudden heat when it was supposed to be cold.

First went the fishing industry, then the cattle, and finally, even the cricket farms succumbed to the heat. That’s when the hungry masses began eyeing the walking meat mountains who’d been hoarding protein in their glutes for years.

“It’s basic science,” explains Dr. Sarah Chen, a nutritional anthropologist. “If you see a 250-pound man who’s 5% body fat walking down the street during a famine, your primitive brain doesn’t see a person – it sees approximately 100,000 grams of perfectly marinaded protein.” She pauses, dabbing drool from the corner of her mouth. “Sorry, force of habit.”

The Gyms Are Not Safe Anymore Says Anonymous One Armed Man

The phenomenon has led to bizarre new social dynamics. Former cardio areas in gyms have been converted into fortified panic rooms.

Protein shake manufacturers now produce camouflage powder that makes muscles appear smaller. And the once-popular “swole” aesthetic has given way to what industry insiders call the “don’t eat me, I’m mostly water” look.

Perhaps most telling is the dramatic shift in gym culture. Gone are the days of bodybuilders shouting “Do you even lift, bro?” Now, the most common gym cry is “Please don’t eat me, bro!” followed by the clinking of protective armor.

How They Adjust To The New Thread of Being Nuggets For The Populace

The supplement industry has pivoted rapidly. Pre-workout formulas now include pepper spray. Post-workout recovery drinks feature small doses of ipecac to make the muscle tissue less appetizing. And protein bars have been redesigned to double as makeshift weapons.

One unexpected beneficiary of this crisis has been the CrossFit community. “Turns out all those years of functional fitness really pay off when you’re running from hungry mobs,” says CrossFit champion Jenny Martinez, while doing burpees in her anti-cannibalism suit. “Plus, we’re too lean. We’re basically the chicken wings of the fitness world – not worth the effort.”

The government has attempted to address the crisis by opening synthetic protein distribution centers, but the situation remains tense.

Last week, a group of desperate former vegans was caught trying to break into a Mr. Olympia qualifying event with fork lifts and industrial-sized marinades.

For now, bodybuilders continue their workouts behind reinforced walls, their protein shakes laced with bitter agents, their massive frames wrapped in bite-proof armor.

As one anonymous gym rat put it, while nervously eyeing a group of former Weight Watchers members outside his window: “I never thought I’d say this, but maybe I should have skipped leg day.”

Note: This article was written in collaboration with the International Association for Bodybuilder Preservation (IABP) and the Society for the Prevention of Consumption of Gym Enthusiasts (SPCGE).