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// No Spotter? No Problem! 
// Story: The Bodybuilder 
// by Crayonpaste 
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You remember a couple weeks ago in your English class, one of your teachers made your class read this one article on The Huffington Post about millennials, and how they were supposedly the most entitled, stupid, and lazy generation to ever have the privilege of walking on the face of the Earth. The author blamed their stupidity on the increased use of technology; specifically, smartphones. The article went on and on about how smartphones were the root of it all, and claimed there were studies done by psychologists on how they made millennials anti-social, narcissistic, and every other negative adjective you could throw in the English dictionary.

However, when you're in a bathroom stall, waiting for Mrs. Incredible to leave the gym so you can go workout in peace, having a smartphone in your pocket doesn't seem so evil to you; in fact, that thing's a godsend to you right now. You'd be bored out of your skull if you were just standing in a stall doing nothing for two hours. You can do anything; Youtube, Reddit, Facebook, Tetris, it's your own little world in this smartphone, where nobody can tell you what to do!

The alarm you set to go off in two hours after you entered the bathroom finally goes off, and you get up from the toilet seat. You flush the toilet, to pretend you were on it just in case there's people outside, and you walk out of the stall, and back into the gym.

Well hey, your plan worked; two hours ago, there were at least seventeen people on this floor, but now, you're the only one. Relief begins to wash over you, as you walk back towards the bench to do your workout, knowing that nobody is going to be able to judge you when you do. This time, you take two tens, and add them on both sides of the bar just like how Shining Armor told you, and prepare yourself for the workout.

"Alright..." You say to yourself. "First time, let's take it easy and just do three reps...can always bump it up later."

You tighten your grip on the bar, and push it off. Immediately, you feel the pressure, the full weight of the bar threatening to come down and crush you, but you hold it firm. Slowly, you begin letting the bar lower until it's touching your chest, and push back. Your arms shake as you do so, but you manage to lift the bar back up from it's original position. You slowly repeat the process again, but this time with more confidence, and before you know it, you've already done five reps.

'Heh, that wasn't so bad...' You think to yourself.  Just now, you realize you're feeling really good all the sudden; like you just climbed up to the peak of a mountain, and you see the whole world. Like you can do anything, and nothing is impossible for you. Is the whole "runner's high" thing that you never hear your mom shut up about? Well, whatever it is, you feel great. 

You laugh to yourself; your dad really was right when he said this stuff is easy. With this newfound surge of confidence, you get up from your bench, and load two more tens on each side. Actually, you know what? Screw that, you're feeling up for a challenge! You take off all the plates, and get one of the big thirty-five weights, and add one to each side before sliding back under the bar.

"Let's go, baby." You smile, pushing up against the bar.

You strain, and feel your arms tighten as you struggle to move the bar from the rack. You can definitely feel the extra weight this time, but still; if you can do just one rep, you'll be satisfied. You push against the bar again, and it still isn't bulging. Gritting your teeth, you take a deep breath, and exhale as you press your back against the bench, going in for one more try.

This time, you finally lift the bar off of the rack, and let the bar slowly descend down to your chest. You feel like a god damn planet is being pressed against your body, but you hold it firm, and begin pushing the bar up. Your arms tighten again, this time with far more intensity as the bar's descending slowly comes to a halt, and you see it rising a bit.

"Come on......" You grunt. "Come on..."

Midway between the rep however, your arms feel as if they just hit a concrete wall; no matter how hard you try to push, the bar refuses to go any further. You try to push your back against the bench to get some extra force, but it's still not budging. And worse, you can feel your arms starting to get tired.

Shit...this is bad. You need to get this thing off of you. With every second that passes by, your arms get weaker and weaker, and the bar begins feeling heavier by the second. With panic in your eyes, you take a look at your arms, and see them shaking violently; this is bad. If you don't get this bar up like right now, then you're going to be in some deep shit.

With the last remaining bits of energy your arms have, you thrust your arms outward, letting out a roar as you do so in one final attempt to get the bar back up.


******


"Wow, it's been nearly three and a half hours, and still no call from him!" Your wife exclaims, looking at the clock. "He must really be getting into it!"

"I know, right?!" You agree, as you flick the television back onto the sports channel. It's showing some college football at the moment; one of your favorites. "I'm telling you dear, he's finally changed...and I thought this would never happen."

"Oh, don't say that." Your wife says crossly. "He's your son; working out is in his blood; it was just a matter of time, dear."

"I know..." You nod, taking a sip of coffee before focusing back on the game. "But still; I just wished he started a little earlier."

"Well, it is what it is." She comments. "Besides...it's like how they said in Mulan: 'The last blossom to bloom is the most beautiful one of them all.'"

"So poetic." You chuckle.

"...And so true."


******


"Anon......" You say to yourself. "By the holy testicles of Jesus Christ, Anon....... you are the luckiest bastard ever..."

While you were off in the bathroom waiting for the gym to empty so you can do your workout alone, you were reading an article on bodybuilding.com about how to properly bench press and everything. The article said that no matter how many sets you're doing, you should always, and they said this multiple times, always have a spotter with you.

Well......tonight, you just learned why they stressed having one so much.

It's been well over an hour, but you still feel like it just happened seconds ago. Your entire body is still letting loose a torrent of sweat, and your heart's beating so hard it's threatening to burst out of your chest at any moment like one of those xenomorph babies from Alien. But you wouldn't want that to happen; you want to live. Especially after the way your life just flashed before your eyes like that.

That moment......that moment when your arms gave out......Holy hell, that bar was coming down towards your neck like a guillotine! 

Thank God though that there was a loose screw on the inside of the bench rack that stopped the bar three inches from your face. That one tiny piece of metal was the difference between life and death for you right there, and you're eternally grateful to the gym worker who forgot to tighten it back in place. 

But as grateful as you are for not dying, it left your body trapped under one hundred and fifteen pounds of solid iron, and judging from the throbbing pain in your left arm, you probably pulled a muscle as well. To make things worse, the bench is also bolted to the floor, so you can't really move around to get any good leverage, and you're terrified of having anything to do with touching the bar. Your right arm, while uninjured, got pinned in an awkward position by the bar that prevents you from reaching for your phone to call for help.

"Attention:" You hear a voice ring through the gym's loudspeakers. "The Forge will be closing in five minutes. Please finish your workout and wipe down all used equipment in timely fashion."

"Hey, wait!" You shout. "I'm stuck! Help! I'm still here!"

Panic beginning to take over, you do something incredibly stupid that you immediately regret; you take your right arm, and go in for one last, desperate attempt to move the bar, resulting in all one hundred and fifteen pounds crashing down onto your chest, knocking the wind out of you. You frantically squirm about, and just manage to lift the bar to keep it from suffocating you to death, but holy hell, is this position uncomfortable.

"Someone!" You wheeze. "Anyone! Help!!!"

Just as your words leave your mouth, the lights begin flickering off one by one. The fans stop rotating, the air conditioners cease to function, and the room fills with darkness.

"Man..." You say to yourself. "This is gonna be a long night..."