Jack Derril
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Gym etiquette
🕑 Added 2025-09-08 08:23:09 +0000 UTCHalfway through a shaky set, the newcomer caught sight of her in the mirror—Madison, looming just behind, every muscle swelling, veins lit like steel cables in the overhanging light.
The bar nearly slipped as panic set in. They racked the barbell too early and stepped back, legs trembling—not from the workout. “I’m done, if you need the rack…”
Madison tilted her head, amused. “Done? Nah, I don’t buy it,” she said, tone sharp but playful. “You’ve got more reps in you. I’ll wait my turn.” She nodded toward the bar. “Finish what you started. I’ll even spot you if you want.”
The lifter stammered something about not wanting to take up her time. Madison grinned, then rolled into a flex that made her look twice as fearsome as before, every line of her torso exploding into shredded size and detail. “Trust me,” she said, voice soft in contrast to the storm of her frame, “if anyone ever tries to shove you off a rack before you’re done, call me. I’ll make sure they rethink their life choices.”
The tension cracked, replaced by a wave of relief. She might look like an Olympian goddess sculpted for domination, but behind the flex was something better: a guardian. Still, pity anyone foolish enough to test that guardian.
“Alright!” the girl said at last. “I’d like to try something heavier, if you really want to spot?”
Madison’s grin widened. Watching the spark of resolve light up was her favorite part. “That’s the spirit.”
