Roland is Disrobed whilst Weightlifting

Roland gingerly stepped out of the changing room in his baggy shorts and t shirt and made his way to the main gym. This was his first time working with a personal trainer – his first session at the gym included a walk around with Brad, who would explain how to use the various machines and equipment.

Brad was, to Roland’s mind, exactly the sort of person who would frequent a gym like this. Tall, tanned and muscly, he was the antithesis of Roland’s scrawny frame.

‘Hey, bro,’ Brad greeted Roland enthusiastically, ‘looking good! Are you ready to get pumped?’

Roland didn’t really know what this meant, but he nodded anyway and accepted Brad’s slightly too firm handshake. ‘Sure.’

Brad did his best to put Roland at ease, introducing him to some of the staff and showing him how to safely operate a wide range of equipment. Roland thought that if medieval **** devices had been made of shiny aluminium and black plastic, this is exactly what it would have looked like.

Some of them he recognised of course – like the treadmills, of course. Also the rowing machines, which seemed straightforward enough. And a range of benches for laying down on to lift weights.

Brad explained the house rules about replacing weights, not overdoing the exercise, making sure somebody was around to help if you got into any trouble as he allowed Roland a little time to use each device.

They reached one which Brad referred to as a ‘lat puller,’ whatever that meant. It had a bench and a vertical cradle of weights attached to an overhead bar. Roland was shown how to lay down with his hands at each end of the bar and pull down to lift the weights. Good for pecs, shoulders and upper body, according to Brad.

‘Hey, dude,’ Brad enthused, ‘why not try a bit more weight while I’m here to spot you?’ He adjusted the cradle and Roland pulled down on the bar, and with a little help from Brad he was able to lift the weights all the way. ‘Way to go, bro!’ cheered Brad.

There was some kind of disturbance in one of the other areas – it sounded bad, Roland thought – he heard a woman scream briefly, then the sound of people running. Brad excused himself and ran to see what the fuss was, leaving Roland on the machine.

Roland felt his arms straining. He wanted to lower the weights, but he wanted to be careful to avoid hurting himself. Although his hands and brow started to sweat, he also didn’t just want to let go of the bar – he didn’t want to break the machine and have to pay for it.

‘Okay, Roland,’ he hissed to himself through gritted teeth. ‘You can do this. Be a man, dammit!’

He was a little scared of straightening his arms, it felt like the weights might dislocate both elbows. But his sweaty hands began to slip on the handles and he felt as though he were losing control of this.

Right, he thought. Find a solution, Roland, that’s what you are good at. His idea was a good one. He lifted his knees, one leg each side of the vertical steel wire in the centre, trapping the bar between his lower stomach and his thighs. This gave him enough assistance to peel first one, then the other hand from the grips, and wipe them on his t-shirt. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, preparing to take hold of the bar once more, when he felt his hips slowly being lifted off the bench. Crikey, he thought, those weights must be pretty heavy. Gripping the handles he tried to straighten his legs, only to find that the waistband of his shorts was somehow hooked onto the shackle in the centre of the bar which attached it to the steel cable.

Slowly, Roland was lifted into the air until just his shoulders and head were still resting on the bench. With both hands now gripping the waistband of his shorts, he tried desperately to avoid falling out of them entirely.

‘Um, help. Help!’ Roland called out feebly.