The Bodybuilder

Chapters

The Mirror
The Forge
No Spotter? No Problem!
Sore Loser
A Knight in Shining Armor
King Khan Anon
Chocolate Rain
Post-Traumatic Squat Disorder
The Shining Armor Effect
Sink or Swim
Diver

The Mirror

"A...A...Anon?" Applejack stammers, a crimson blush forming on her face. "Wh......what did you just ask me?"

"I asked if you'd like to go to the Fall Formal with me." You repeat yourself, smiling. The entire hallway goes silent; some students ignore what you just said, and continue walking to their next class; most of them have frozen in place, and are staring at the two of you. Hell, even a teacher stopped dead in his footsteps to stare at you. It's like time itself has come to a halt and only continued when Applejack opens her mouth.

"Gosh...I......I'd really hate to do this to you, but..." She frowns.

"What's wrong?" You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "You gotta work at the farm that day? Do you-"

"No, that's not what I wanted to say." Applejack cuts you off. You watch as she takes a deep sigh, and looks at you in the eyes.

"I......I just can't see us goin' to the Fall Formal together...ya know?"

******

The scene keeps replaying in your head over, and over again as you try to sit through history class. Ms. Harshwinny's talking something about the Crystal Wars, but she's lost you a long time ago. At the moment, the only thing on your mind is that beautiful blonde farm girl who just rejected you to the Fall Formal during third period.

'Is this normal?' You think to yourself, clutching your chest. There's this strange invisible, but very much powerful tinge of pain in your chest; it's not like pain-pain but it still feels extremely uncomfortable...

Is it normal to just feel so......empty? Are you supposed to be feeling this? Like you don't want to do anything? It begins to make you question why you even thought you had a chance with her. You look around, and see all the other girls in the classroom paying just as much attention to Ms. Harshwinny's lecturing as you are; they're all huddled up in the back seats, gossiping and giggling to each other, with them pointing to you every now and then. Probably talking about how much of an ass you looked like when you asked out Applejack.

The bell finally rings, and immediately, a torrent of students fill the door, eager to catch their buses and hurry home, or do whatever they do when school is over. Normally, you'd be one of those students hurrying to leave, but you sort of just hunch over your desk, and slowly pack up everything before sluggishly dragging your feet out of the classroom.

You pull out your phone to try and see if there's anything new on Twitter or whatnot, but you quickly put it back in your pocket when you hear the thundering sounds of footsteps. The whole ground seems to shake as you look behind your shoulder, and see the Canterlot High Boy's Varsity Ice Hockey team stampeding through the hallway.

For a second, your mind flashes back to that one scene from The Lion King when Simba saw the pack of wildebeest sprinting down the cliff towards him, and the very next second, you feel the arm of a six-foot four monster of a teenager ram into your kidney.

"Come on!" You hear him shout to the rest of the hockey players. "If we're late again, Coach Iron Will's gonna flay us!"

You quickly make a dive to the sides of the hallway, and cover your face as at least ten more equally massive guys charge through the hallway, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust, and half-eaten pizzas behind them.

"Fucking hell." You whisper, wiping the dust off of your jacket. Well, it could've gone a lot worse, that's for sure.

You quickly move through the hallway after what just happened, and you step outside of the school, just in time to see your mom waiting for you in her car. She spots you, and turns on the engine to the car, and you throw your bag into the backseats before hopping up in shotgun with her.

"How was school today, dear?" She smiles, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

"Fine..." You yawn, clicking on your seatbelt. "Just......fine..."

"Oh, I almost forgot to ask!" She nudges you. "Did you ask her......?"

"Yeah......" You grimace. "But..."

"Oh......" In an instant, the smile on your mother's face fades. "I'm guessing she said......no?"

"Nada." You nod. "I just didn't know where I went wrong though, mom."

"Well......" Your mother begins. "She was really pretty, at least from the Facebook pictures you showed me of her. And also, she's a farm girl; maybe you two just aren't compatible, you know?"

"What do you mean?" You ask. "I'm not that ugly mom, am I?"

"No, that's not what I mean." She shakes her head. "I just feel like the two of you are just two completely different people, dear. She's a farm-girl who's been raised on Sweet Apple Acres all her life; I hear her big brother isn't even going to college next year!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" You protest. "She's...she's really nice, and honest, and-"

"Don't think about it too much." She pats you on the shoulder. "Learning how to take rejection is part of growing, and being a man, Anonymous. I'm sure a handsome young man will easily find the perfect match for you."

You sit back into your seat in defeat, and stare at the passing scenery as you two leave the Canterlot High campus. Just now, you realized that at least a half of all the guys walking around have at least one girl by his side; and really good looking ones too. You sigh in defeat, and pull out your phone, looking for some games to distract your mind. However, a couple last words from your mother seem to resonate with you for some reason.

"A man..." You whisper faintly. So faintly, that there was no way your mother could hear it.

******

In the darkness of your room, where the only light is your computer screen, you stare at yourself shirtless in the mirror. You try flexing, you're barely able to see your biceps pop upwards; in fact, you don't really see any......muscle at all.

"No..." You shake your head, walking towards the switch in your room. "It has to be just the lighting, or something." You flick the lights on, run back to your mirror, and try flexing again.

'That's more like it.' You think, nodding. There's some bulges at your stomach and- oh who are you kidding? There's no way in hell that's a six pack; hell, the only reason why you can even see your stomach muscles is because you're as scrawny as a god damn skeleton. You shake your head, and put your shirt back on, before going back on your computer.

However, instead of pulling up some video games or..."adult" content as you normally would after school, you go onto Google and start typing.

"Easy...ways...to...get...six-pack..." You mutter as you type each letter onto the search engine. Upon hitting enter, thousands of websites pop up in front of your eyes.

'HOW TO GET SIX-PACKS IN THREE MONTHS' says one Youtube video.

'Six Simple Workouts to Get You Ripped' reads the title of an article right below it.

'Chisel Your Body: A Man's Makeover'

'Get Rock-Hard in Three Weeks'

'LOOK LIKE BRAD PITT IN THREE HOURS'

"Yeah, sure." You roll your eyes, closing the tab and getting off the computer. "Why are they even allowed to put up crap like that on the internet?"

As you get up from your chair however, you find yourself looking at your reflection one more time in the mirror.

Slowly, you feel something bubbling up inside of you; it's like a mixture of anger, and shame, but by no means does this feel like something negative. It just feels overwhelmingly powerful, like a fire; it makes you want to get off your ass, and do something.

You approach the mirror one last time, and stare your own reflection down.

"I know why your bitch-ass got rejected by Applejack." You point at the mirror, staring at your scrawny, undeveloped body as you do so. "And so do you..."

You take your shirt off, and throw it down on the ground. You then slip out of your jeans, and stare at your bare body, save for the boxers. Shaking your head, you turn away from the mirror and drop down, laying your stomach on the floor.

"I am never going to look like that again." You growl, propping your body up and preparing to do a push-up.

The Forge

'Come on Anon.......just two more! You can do this!'

Too bad your body's saying otherwise though; your limbs feel like they're about to snap at any second and your entire body, your stomach especially feels like it's about to implode in on itself; every single muscle cell you have is screaming for you to stop as you descend for another push-up.

"Anon, what the heck are you doing up there?!" You hear your father shout above from the living room. "It's dinner time!"

"I told you Dad, just give me like five minutes and I'll be down!" You reply through a strained voice.

Against the will of your body, you descend again, feeling the oppressive pain building up along with it. You keep telling yourself that if Snips and Snails could do at least ten push-ups during gym class, then so can you. But your body's not buying your bullshit; it wants out. Now.

With a groan of pain and determination, you attempt to push yourself upwards only for you to collapse halfway between the push-up, and fall face first into the hardwood floor. You immediately roll to the side, gasping in as much air as you possibly can with your heart working overtime to keep up with the abuse you just put your body through.

The door to your room swings open, and you see your father, looking down at you with a look of complete shock on his face; probably because he was expecting to see you on your computer looking at porn, or something.

"......Anon?" He says slowly. "Were you just doing what I thought you were?"

"I swear to God, Dad..." You wheeze. "I wasn't fapp-"

"Were you just working out?!" He exclaims, bursting with excitement. "Those were push-ups you were doing, right?!"

"Yeah." You nod. Suddenly, your father rushes towards your limp and broken body, and props you up with one arm while patting your back with the other.

"I KNEW it!" He shouts with glee. "You really are my son, Anon!"

"Hey, honey!" He calls your mom over. "Guess what Anon was just doing in his room! He was doing push-ups! He was actually working out!"

"MY SON WAS DOING WHAT?!" She shouts.

You always forgot; in his youth, your father was the captain of the Canterlot High School basketball team; a six foot five monster who carried CHS all the way to States Championships, and scored the winning three-point shot in the last ten seconds of the game. He also graduated as the school's valedictorian who maintained straight A's, and ended up graduating from the Canterlot Institute of Technlogy, and started his own business as soon as he got out. A shining beacon of humanity that epitomizes strength, intelligence, and success all in one package.

And not to be outdone, your mother was also a mutant superhuman athlete who's just as crazy. In high school, she was a cross country superstar who ran and still does to this day, eight miles daily. She also goes to the Canterlot Marathon every year, and your living room has a wall completely covered with all the marathon and 5k number tags she has collected since she was fifteen. In fact, you think the only year she missed a marathon was when she was pregnant with you, and it took the convincing of your dad, her doctor, and your grandparents to make her not run while you were still inside her.

With this much going for you in the gene pool, it's no wonder that your parents have always been scratching their heads when they see you, their 140-pound, twig thin, C+ student son who still has no girlfriend, and can't even do a single pull-up. But today, you guess you've finally done something to make your father feel proud...

"So." He smiles. "How much did you do, champ?"

"......Four." You say slowly, avoiding eye contact with him. Surprisingly however, his smile doesn't waver one bit. Instead, it gets even bigger as he throws his head back and laughs heartily.

"Well, you gotta start somewhere I guess." He chuckles. "Come on, Anon. Your dinner's ready."

As you walk down the stairs with your dad, you can't help but get the feeling that he's seriously overreacting over what you just did; it was four push-ups for crying out loud, and he's treating you like a war hero. Or maybe are his standards for you just that low? If that really is so, then that makes you feel pretty damn depressed if your own father thinks that lowly of you...

You take your seat on the dinner table, and begin nibbling away at the pile of green beans and pork chops on your plate. On the other side of the table, your dad's talking with your mom about random adult stuff; business, work, taxes, mortgage, the things you have to worry about in twenty years or so, but for now, you couldn't give any less fucks about what an "insurance deductible" is.

"So, Anon..." Your mom says. "Your father told me you started working out..."

"Oh." Your head perks up. "I uhhh...yeah! I was just doing push-ups, that's all."

"Well you can easily be doing much more than those!" Your dad beams, pulling out his phone and showing you the website of some random workout gym. "I go here all the time! I could sign you up too!"

"Thanks Dad, but I dunno if I can fit it into school and-"

"Come on, you haven't even given it a shot yet." Your mom taps you on the shoulder. "Besides, you're a growing boy; now's the best time to build up muscle!"

"Your mother's right." Your dad nods. "Plus, they offer discounts for family relatives; the price you get in the 'Father and Son Deal' over there is a steal!"

"I don't know..." You shrug. "I don't even know how to lift, or anything!"

"Don't overreact, it's not that hard." He says dismissively. "Besides......your mother told me about how that farm girl you've had a thing for rejected you to the Fall Formal."

Wait...how did he-

"I wonder..." He nudges you smirking. "Will she have second thoughts when she sees you when you're huge? That's a bet I'm willing to take money on..."

******

You stick to your dad closely, as you follow him into the gym that he promised to show you after dinner. According to him, it's dead center in the middle of Downtown Canterlot; you could easily take the subway to here from school or even from your home, which is pretty convenient.

"Son..." Your dad says dramatically as he open his arms. "Welcome to The Forge."

You look up, and see an imposing black tower in front of your eyes. At the top very to of the building is a logo of an anvil, with an arm slamming down on it, sending neon sparks everywhere that spell: 'The Forge'.

"Twenty-four floors, with each level dedicated to one group of muscles." He says proudly. "And there's also the indoor swimming pool, the boxing ring, indoor track, and I hear they also just finished building this crazy 3-D virtual reality fighting simulator thing at the top floor; the kind of stuff that SWAT officers use to train, or something insane like that."

"And how much did this cost?" You look nervously at your dad.

"No cost is too expensive for a man with something to prove." He replies, patting your back. "Did you know that professional MMA fighters actually go here too? I'm telling you Anon, this is the place where men are made; where the small become huge; where the-"

"Okay, I get it Dad, I get it." You cut him off. "But could you at least stick around for a couple minutes, and show me the ropes? I don't even know how to hold a dumbell, Dad!"

"I'd love to, but I just got a call and they need me at the office ASAP." He says, looking over at his watch. "But don't worry though, this stuff isn't rocket science."

"Here, don't lose this." He hands you a membership card, and looks into your eyes. "You can do this, son. Hell, you can do anything if you set your mind to it."

And with those last words, your father walks off back to the parking lot, and takes off in his car, disappearing from your sight in a matter of seconds. You lose sight of his car, and turn your gaze back at the obsidian black tower.

"Twenty four floors......" You say to yourself, gritting your teeth.

You can't believe your dad would actually spend this much money on you; he never told you how much he spent, but this "Forge" place looks more like a five-star hotel rather than a gym, and you wouldn't be surprised if it costed just as much. You don't know if you should feel excited, or nervous; you want to feel excited, that you dad just gave you membership to a state-of-the-art gym that most dudes in your school would never even have the chance of seeing, but at the same time you have an overwhelming feeling of discomfort. This is unknown territory you're walking into; you're going into this gym, without a single clue of what the hell you're doing, and after Applejack's rejection, the last thing you want to do is feel like a complete idiot all over again.

But then again, the whole reason why you're even here is because you felt like a complete idiot after her rejection; you're here to change for the better, once and for all. Taking a deep breath, you clutch your membership card in one hand, and your bag full of spare clothes in the other, and walk to the entrance of The Forge. You take big, purposeful steps that quickly close the distance into the building, and open the door.

The second you walk into the gym, your nose is immediately filled with the smell of sweat; it's not bad-smelling or anything, but rather it's just there, and makes its presence very well known. You walk up to the front desk made of ornately polished granite stone that's reflecting so much light it's nearly blinding you, and you're greeted by an insanely buff, bodybuilder woman who's skin is literally the color of an orange. You'd make a joke about it, if she didn't look like she can shatter your spine just by flicking her wrist, so you just keep your mouth shut.

"Can I help you?" She asks in a deep, monotonous voice before gazing down on you.

"Hey uhhh..." You say nervously. "Can you let me in?"

"Where's your card?" The She-Hulk asks bluntly, raising an eyebrow with suspicion. Just the sight of the emotionless gaze that comes from her intense, hawk-like eyes makes you want crap your pants.

"H-h-here." You hand it to her, shaking.

She takes the card out of your hand, jabs a few numbers in on the cashier, and hangs your card on a shelf behind him. She then gives you a nod of approval, and extends her hand towards the entrance, welcoming you.

"Have a good workout, sir." She says, disappearing back behind the counter.

You walk past the bodybuilder woman, and officially enter the gym, where in front of you, lies twenty four floors of iron-pumping, muscle-building madness. Floor 1 is where the indoor track is, and you can see men and women sprinting across the track at speeds you thought weren't even possible for humans. Oh whatever, it's not like you're going to be doing any cardio anyways; you can't get huge off of that, right?

You spot an elevator, and right next to it is a map that lays out what workout machines each floor has; there's cardio and running stuff on floor one where you are right now, then the swimming pool's downstairs, and on the second floor is stuff for legs. You step away from the map and walk up to a mirror to look at your own body.

Well... your shoulders could definitely use some buffing up, so where can you find shoulder workouts? Floor four it is then. You press up on the elevator, and walk into it. In just a couple of seconds, the elevator takes you to your floor, and you walk out, taking in the vast, expansive gym.

Before you, is a literal maze of machines; each one looks more bizarre than the next as you walk around, and not to mention every single guy in the room looks like a WWE wrestler. You're so overwhelmed by the sheer......everything around you, that you're just standing there dumbfounded, staring like an idiot at all the equipment.

'What the hell is an Alternating Cable Shoulder Press?' You think to yourself as you walk up to a machine. Well, that's one machine you won't be touching; you shrug, and just walk away from the machine to try and find something else that doesn't require a PhD to use.

Reverse Flyes? Still sounds too complex.

Side Lateral Raise? Probably even worse.

Barbell Incline Shoulder Raise? Nope with a capital N.

Cuban Press? Sounds more like a sex move to you than a workout....

It's getting more and more hopeless as you wade through the machines with each one looking more complex than the other, but then you spot a relatively skinny (but still bulkier than you) guy doing something simple. If your memory serves you correct, the guy's doing bench presses; probably the most simple, iconic workout that any person could do in the gym, and the only one that you actually recognize without having to look it up.

"Yeah...that would be a good start." You say to yourself as you find an empty bench. You put your bag to the side, and look at the other guys doing the same workout, trying to see how they do it before you try it yourself. Doesn't look too hard to you; all he's doing is just lowering the bar to his chest, and raising it.

You turn back over to your bench, confident with what you have to do now, and start adding some weights onto the metal bar. Think you can handle 25? Nah, let's tone it down to 20 instead... You load two tens onto the bar, slide back down to your bench, and start taking deep breaths, preparing to lift the load. But hey, it's just twenty; you can do this easily. As you begin to tighten your grip around the bar, a guy in a red tank top passes by and gives you a confused look, but you take it with a grain of salt, and lift the bar.

Immediately, you begin feeling a disproportionate amount of weight on your left side, and you feel your whole body beginning to tilt towards that direction. The deafening sound of metal plates crashing down onto the ground then resonates through the entire gym as you tumble face-first into the floor of the gym. You hear random people shouting, and feel a hand tapping your back.

"Hey, you alright there bro?" You look up, seeing the same guy in the red tank top looking down at you, concerned. You respond only with a nod, and get back on your feet. The floor turned completely silent, as everybody on the floor just stopped whatever workouts they were doing and are now staring at you as if you're some serial murderer.

You already feel your face flushing with embarrassment, even as you try to hunch over on your bench to make yourself appear invisible. But who are you kidding? You know that memory is still fresh in everyone else's minds after that; man, you must have looked so stupid when you fell like that.

"You're new here, aren't you?" You turn, and see that same red tank top guy standing over your bench. Just now, you look at his face, and begin to recognize him.

Shoulder-length dark blue hair, a white complexion, and a body that could lift Jupiter with one arm, and all it's moons with the other; there's no mistaking it, it's Shining Armor.

Shining Armor, Twilight Sparkle's older brother. The Shining Armor. Shining Armor, the badass captain of the Canterlot High swim team who got a time that qualified him for the next Olympics. Shining Armor, the most popular guy in Canterlot High who every single girl (and some boys) has a crush on. Shining Armor, the pinnacle of physical condition, talking with you, the pinnacle of what a guy shouldn't look like.

"For starters, you put the weight on both ends of the bar, bro." He says, pointing at your bar as he picks up the weights you dropped during your little accident. "And plus, the bar itself weighs forty five pounds by itself, so do the math first before adding any extra weights on."

"I...I-I uhhh, thank you." You stutter awkwardly. "I'll remember that."

"I hope you do." He laughs, slapping your shoulder. "You made a pretty big racket there, I'll give you that!"

You feel your face flushing with embarrassment again, as you awkwardly laugh it off with Shining Armor, and you go back to your bench. However, you don't resume to your workout; you just sit there, trying to ask yourself why the heck you're here in the first place. You came here to undo the shame, to undo how dumb you looked when you got rejected by Applejack; not to look even dumber. If you're just coming here to get shit on all over again, then why are you even here?

'No...' You think to yourself, shaking your head. 'No, you're overthinking this, Anon. Everyone probably screws up just like you their first time.'

'Alright then.' You continue to talk with yourself mentally. 'How about you just go to the bathroom and chill for a couple of hours so all the people who just saw you mess up will leave, and then you go do your workout? That sounds like a smart idea. That should-'

"Hey, you still using that bench?" You hear an external voice interrupting your train of thought. You look up, seeing the bodybuilder woman you met at the desk, tapping her foot impatiently.

You don't respond with words; you just smile, and scurry away from the benches as fast as you can, not daring to look back until you're in the men's bathroom, and see your reflection in the mirror.

"Alright..." You say to your own reflection. "Two hours......two hours, and we'll go back to our bench, how does that sound, Anon?"

"Sounds like a deal."

Author's Note

This actually happened to me on my first day of regularly going to the gym. :rainbowlaugh: It's something that my friends will never let me hear the end of, and now you know this too. Hope you don't mind my shameless, self-projecting.

But on a more serious note, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'll be sure to update this whenever I have time on my hands.

No Spotter? No Problem!

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..."

Sore Loser

When that bar came down on you, you knew you could've been squashed like a bug when it happened. But thank God you totally lucked out, and had that screw there to stop the bar from crushing your neck. Well for the second time that night, you totally lucked out again. One of the gym's employees came onto your floor to double-check all the equipment and wipe it all down one last time, only to find you gasping for breath under one hundred and fifteen pounds of solid iron. Unluckily for you, it was that same super buff, bodybuilder woman at the front-desk who rescued you, and called your dad to pick you up.

He showed up twenty minutes later, having to have missed a really important meeting for his business to check up on you. As glad as was to find out that you were still alive, you could tell he was still very annoyed, and there was even a hint of disappointment in his voice upon hearing that his son nearly killed himself on his first day at the gym. You also went to the E.R. for the first time in your life, but the only real injuries the doctor was able to find was a small muscle strain on your left tricep that should heal in less than a week. However, both you and the doctor knew that the biggest injury you had at that night that wasn't some muscle, bone, or an organ, but your ego. Your ego that's now all but nonexistent.

It's now eleven, and you're sitting in the car with your dad, having just gotten out of the E.R. and you're both heading back home in the pitch-black darkness of the night.

"Dad...?" It's been around fifteen minutes of pure silence in the car, and you finally break it. "I'd really appreciate it if you don't tell anyone about this, alright?"

"Only on one condition..." He replies, keeping his eyes on the road. "Tell me, Anon.......why the fuck did you not get a spotter?"

This was the first time, you saw your dad openly swear in front of you. It would've been funny, if he wasn't dead serious right now, but still; you try your best to suppress a laugh.

"I...I wanted to just work out alone..." You answer. "You know...so nobody could judge me for not knowing how to use any of the equipment, or how much I lifted; that's all."

"Then why the hell did you choose to bench press?!" Your father groans, slamming his head against the wheel, and accidentally letting off the car's horn. "You could've done a MILLION other things, Anon! You could've done dumbell presses instead, and worked the same exact muscles! Or you could've done linear jammers if you still wanted to work shoulders! Or deltoid raises! Or-"

"What the hell even are those things?!" You throw your arms up in outrage, only for your left one to shoot with pain.

"Or you also could've skipped shoulders, and done biceps!" Your dad continues to ramble on. "Or like-"

Your father interrupts himself; he takes a deep breath, and calms himself down. Probably because he knows ranting on, and listing random bicep workouts that you never heard of isn't going to do anybody any good.

"My point is, you NEVER bench press without a spotter, Anon." He says, turning his eyes back on the road. "You could've died on that thing."

"Oh believe me, I know." You reply through gritted teeth. "I know...."

******

The next day at school, your body's still feeling the aftershocks of your little bench press incident; you had an awful night's sleep, thanks to your arm, and that same arm is still barely even usable right now. You don't know what's worse; your arm, or Ms. Harshwinny's upcoming history test you have next block that you didn't study for at all. But hey, maybe you could use your arm as an excuse to get out of it?

Knowing her, she's probably not, but it's still worth a shot. Who knows? Maybe every now and then, the planets align, and Ms. Harshwinny will actually show a little empathy towards her students, and it could very well be this day! But until then, you're stuck in second block, doing Mr. Discord's stupid physics packet that's going to be homework if you don't finish it in class.

Ironically, the problem is asking you how many joules are required for a man to lift a 150kg weight up five inches. Just looking at the drawing of the stick man lifting the weight on your worksheet reminds you of yourself, and makes you want to cringe.

After staring at the same problem for like five minutes without making any progress, you just skip the problem, and go for another one; you'll do that one when you get home. So....A man is lifting a 210 kg weight, and is unable to lift it 5 inches to rack it back up again. If he has already lifted the weight 2.5 inches, how many joules does his spotter need to expend to help the man rack the weight?

"Fucking seriously?" You huff, looking at the problem. You then turn the page, and the next, realizing that every single problem on this worksheet has something to do with working out. Is Discord messing with you again? Is he? He has to! This can't be a coincidence.

Sighing in frustration, you stoop down into your desk, and begin watching the clock; looks like someone's going to be staying up late doing physics homework tonight. After what seems like a lifetime, the bell finally rings and everyone makes a mad dash towards the hallways, some leaving behind their packets on their desks. You're about to leave the room, until you're stopped by a soft voice behind you.

"A.....Anon?" You turn around, and see Fluttershy. If you're not mistaken, isn't she one of Applejacks' best friends? She is, isn't she?

"Oh hey, Fluttershy." You smile. "I didn't see you there."

You kind of never see her though, to be honest. Fluttershy's one of those really shy girls who never talks during class. You feel like she's always somewhere in the same room as you, but you can never seem to find her because she's so quiet, and seemingly turns invisible in crowds. In fact, you never knew you even had Physics with her until now.

"Fluttershy?" You raise an eyebrow, confused. Her arms crossed like she's either cold, or hiding something; you can't tell. "Did you call me, Fluttershy?"

"Oh!" She jumps up in surprise. "I......uhmmm......I...I...saw your arm was hurt..."

"What was that?" You put a hand to your ear. "I didn't hear you."

"I said I just saw your arm was, Anon." She repeats herself, this time at a volume your ears can actually pick up. "Is it okay?"

"Oh, this?" You look down, at your bandaged left arm. "Nahhh, it's all good. In fact, I nearly forgot something even happened to it, you know what I'm sayin-"

The second you mention it, your arm starts throbbing with pain all the sudden as if to purposely troll you. Fluttershy just cringes, as she sees you clutch your arm groaning.

"What happened?" She asks, now genuinely concerned with you now.

"I uhhhh...I was just working out yesterday, and I hurt myself." You say, making sure to spare the details; but you're sure that if anybody else was in your shoes, they'd do the same. "Yeah...I just pushed myself a little too hard, that's all."

"You work out?" Her head perks up, looking surprised. "I...I didn't know you went to the gym..."

"Yeah, I've been going for a while now..." You lie. "Probably almost a year by now..."

"It doesn't look too bad..." Fluttershy says, looking at your arm. "At least you weren't that guy everyone at my gym has been talking about..."

"What guy?" You raise an eyebrow.

"I go to this really nice gym in downtown Canterlot called The Forge." She says. "One of my friends who work there told me last night she had to save some guy who nearly died doing bench presses because he didn't have a spotter!"

"Dang..." You put a hand to your chest. "What kind of idiot benches without a spotter?"

"She said he looked like someone who was new though, so I don't think it's really fair to call him 'stupid'." Fluttershy says a little defensively. "We were all beginners once, and they should be helped; not made fun of."

"Yeah...good point." You nod your head in agreement. "Well, I've got a History test next block, and Ms. Harshwinny really doesn't like it when I'm late, catch you later!"

"Hope you feel better..." Fluttershy waves as the two of you take off in opposite directions. You turn a corner, losing sight of Fluttershy and immediately pull out your phone, and go to your Memos app.

'Never wear last night's gym clothes again' You type as you make your way to Ms. Harshwinny's classroom.

******

You tap your feet with a mixture of nervousness, impatience, and optimism, waiting for the last five minutes of Ms. Cherilee's class to be done. There's only five minutes left, but holy hell does it feel like it's been five hours. Usually, class with Ms. Cherilee never feels this long, so it's probably just the anticipation; the anticipation of what you're going to do immediately after class.

Ms. Cherilee's lost you long ago; hell, you don't even know if she's speaking English anymore. The only thing your senses are focused on right now is the girl sitting two seats in front of you. The blonde-haired beauty who always wears a stetson hat, and has emerald eyes that always seem to catch your eye in the hallway; even if you're trying not to stare, you always find yourself doing so.

In a moment that seems like an eternity, the bell finally rings, and all the students bolt out. You do so to, in pursuit of her, but then stop at her desk, and see her hat lying on her desk. She dropped it in her hurry to get to her next class.

"Awesome." You smile. Now you have the perfect opportunity to talk with her, and seal the deal. You gently hold the side of Applejack's hat, and walk outside the door, only to nearly walk into Applejack the second you leave the room.

"Whoa!" The two of you shout in unison. You nearly fall backwards, but you quickly grab the door handle, and pull yourself back.

"Geez...sorry about that, Anon." Applejack chuckles nervously, spotting her hat in your hand. "I just remembered I left my......hat...in the room..."

"Yeah, I was about to try and get it back for you, but..." You extend your hand forward.

"Guess I beat you to it." Applejack laughs, taking the hat from your hand. "I appreciate it, Anon. I'm glad this school's got good people like you, Anon."

"Yeah." You nod, smiling back at Applejack. "That hat looks expensive; I'd hate to see you lose it. Especially since everybody's getting ready to buy dresses, and suits, and everything for the Fall Formal that's coming up..."

"Oh yeah!" Applejack's head perks up. "It's in three weeks, ain't it?"

"Three weeks, and two days." You correct her.

"Heh, someone's been keepin' track, eh?" Applejack smirks playfully. "Ya got someone in mind?"

"Actually, I do." You chuckle, taking a confident step towards Applejack. "You see......"

Here it comes, Anon! Don't muck this up! You roll your shoulders back, give your temples a quick massage, and take a deep breath, feeling the oxygen rush into your brain and clear your mind. As you do all this, Applejack simply stares at you with a look of confusion.

"I've actually had you in mind, Applejack." You smile, pointing at her. "How would you feel about going to the Fall Formal with me, Applejack?"

Normally at this time of the day, the halls of Canterlot High School are about as quiet as a zoo. You've got the consistent hum of copy machines and printers spitting out papers, hall monitors shouting and chasing skaters who cruise down the hallway on their boards, kids talking to each other about the scores they got on their last Biology tests, and there's always that one guy who blares his obnoxiously loud rap music on his phone; the kind with the super annoying auto-tune singing that's completely overdone and makes the singer sound like a girl.

But this time, it's like all that typical noise just disappeared, and isn't there anymore. It's just you and Applejack.

"A...A...Anon?" Applejack stammers, a crimson blush forming on her face. "Wh......what did you just ask me?"

"I asked if you'd like to go to the Fall Formal with me." You repeat yourself, smiling. This time, entire hallway actually does go silent. Some students ignore what you just said, and continue walking to their next class; most of them have frozen in place, and are staring at the two of you. Hell, even a teacher stopped dead in his footsteps to see what's going on. Time itself has come to a halt and only continues when Applejack opens her mouth.

"Gosh...I......I'd really hate to do this to you, but..." She frowns.

"What's wrong?" You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "You gotta work at the farm that day? Do you-"

"No, that's not what I mean." Applejack cuts you off. You watch as she takes a deep sigh, and looks at you in the eyes.

"I......I just can't see us goin' to the Fall Formal together...ya know?"

A foreign feeling quickly begins to infect your body. It feels like...nothingness. Like a part of yourself just disappeared entirely without trace. You can no longer breathe; you can't feel your pulse anymore, and worst of all, you can no longer look at those beautiful green eyes with any sort of confidence anymore.

"I...no offense Anon, but..." Applejack begins, avoiding eye contact with you. Or is it you just avoiding hers? "I've been livin' on Sweet Apple Acres all my life. I'm a farm girl Anon, and I sure as heck don't plan on changing that anytime soon."

"I can't be with someone like you." She continues. "I...I want-no, I need to be with a man, Anon. Someone who can hold their own out on the range! Someone who doesn't have more skin and bone than muscle on him! Someone who can run a mile without lookin' like a half-beaten mule! I......"

"I get it." You reply, closing your eyes. You dare to open them, just to get one last look at those emerald green eyes, and turn away. "I understand...see you later, Applejack."

A Knight in Shining Armor

"No..." You whisper to yourself, shaking your head. "No....Anon, stop thinking about her..."

As much as you know it's a bad thing to do, the painful memories of Applejack's rejection keep coming back, no matter how hard you try to forget it. You try to distract yourself with more important things going on in your life like homework, community service projects to buff up your college resume, and Ms. Harshwinny's history test that's been sitting in front of you for the past thirty minutes.

'Who is Lord Tirek, and why is he considered by many historians to be the most important figure of the First Generation?' You read the first question on the test.

What the hell is the "First Generation"? This sounds more like random T.V. show trivia bullshit than history. How is the hell is this test fair in any way?! Well it's not stopping Twilight Sparkle's faster-than-light writing that she's doing two seats in front of you. To your left, Rainbow Dash has this small mirror in her hand --- she's trying to use it to reflect Twilight's test onto it and copy her answers, and it looks like it's working.

"Fifteen minutes remaining." Ms. Harshwinny announces in a booming, authoritarian voice that causes several students to jump in their seats. Rainbow Dash nearly drops her mirror, but catches it at the last second, and continues to cheat off of Twilight, who's still writing like a maniac.

Sweating, you take a deep breath and begin jotting down random words in an attempt to sound as intelligent as possible. Every now and then though, you take a couple glances at Rainbow Dash's paper when Ms. Harshwinny's not looking. So long as you don't make it too obvious, you should be safe...

...Right?

******

Ms. Harshwinny seemed to be in an extra rough mood today for some reason; she would eye every student suspiciously when they hand in their paper, and even when you were done with your test, she still wouldn't let you go on your phone. You really don't know how people as crabby as Ms. Harshwinny can live with themselves, but maybe one day she'll change; you don't know. But one thing you know for sure is that you bombed that test hard, and wouldn't be surprised if everyone else did too except for Twilight Sparkle.

The bell finally rings, sending every student packing up, but not before Ms. Harshwinny announces a last minute homework assignment that causes everyone to groan in annoyance. You quickly jot down what she just said on your textbook and make a run for it before she pulls another assignment out of her ass. After making it out of the hallway, you take your book out your bag again to double check on the homework, and groan upon seeing what she gave to your class.

"Four pages?" You open your mouth in disbelief. Nope. You change your mind; no way someone as spiteful as this woman could ever change.

"A...Anon?" You jump in surprise, and turn around, finding it only to be Fluttershy.

"Oh, hey there Fluttershy." You smile. "Didn't see you; you kinda snuck up on me there."

"Oh..." She droops her head. "I'm...sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"Naww, it's alright." You say reassuringly. "What's up?"

"I...I just wanted to ask..." Fluttershy says slowly. "How did you think you did on that History test?"

"Awful." You answer back, shaking your head. "My GPA's gonna tank from that one..."

"Yeah, it was hard." Fluttershy agrees. "That first question about Lord Tirek was the hardest one for me..."

"I never remember her even going over that stuff in class." You complain. "Then suddenly, she puts in on the test and- wait a second, how do you know? You didn't even take that test!"

"Uhmmm...I'm in your class......?"

In this past week, a lot of crap has happened to you; you got rejected by love of your life, you narrowly avoided death by suffocation from a one hundred pound metal bar, you butchered a History test that was probably worth a fourth of your grade, and now, Fluttershy has given you another opportunity to feel stupid all over again.

"I'm also in your Physics and Chemistry class." Fluttershy says as you stand there, dumbfounded by your own stupidity. "And did you know we're also in the same lunch period too, Anon?"

"Wow..." You chuckle nervously, as you feel cheeks starting to flush red with embarrassment. "...How did I never know?"

The two of you walk awkwardly together in the hallway as you make your way to Physics class, which of course Fluttershy has been with you all this time. As the two of you walk however, you feel Fluttershy poking your side with her finger, and you turn to face her.

"By the way, did you know that we're having a pop quiz fourth block in Chemistry today?" She mumbles.

"What?"

******

As you hand in your quiz and leave the classroom, you feel your mind enter a state of complete bliss, and inner peace; you know that no matter how badly you did, that quiz will never be as bad as what you're going to get on Ms. Harshwinny's History test. And to top it off, it's also Friday too, so you'll have two whole days of not having to care, see, or speculate about what you got on that test.

You're practically skipping down the hallways right now; at the moment, it feels like nothing can ruin your mood. You failed Ms. Harshwinny's test? No problem. You got like no sleep today? You'll make it up over the weekend. There's a million people standing in the hallway in front of you for some reason? You'll just go through them then.

"Sorry, coming through." You say cheerfully as you wade through the sea of students. A student accidentally steps on your foot as you try to cross the sea of students. Then another. And another. How many people are here anyways?

"You think she's gonna say yes?" You overhear Lyra Heartstrings asking Bon Bon.

"Just wait and see." She hushes her friend.

You raise your eyebrow. What's going on? And why is it attracting the attention of half the entire school on a Friday? Normally, people would be racing down these hallways to try and get home as fast as possible. You eventually get impatient, and look up to see what's going on. Your eyes stop however when they suddenly spot Applejack, who's standing in the middle of the crowd with someone. You squint your eyes and...

"Is that Shining Armor?" You ask Bon Bon. "What's happening?"

"Quiet!" Bon Bon shushes you. "And yes, it is him! He's about to ask out Applejack to the Fall Formal!"

"He's what?" You blurt out, but you're met with another shush. Shaking your head with disbelief, you stumble to the front of the crowd to see for yourself.

There's no mistaking it, it really is Shining Armor; and he's got half the Canterlot High School's swim team right behind his back as he stands in front of Applejack with his arms crossed. Even from a distance, you can see the muscles bulging out of his black Under Armor compression shirt.

"Hey Applejack...you got a minute?" Shining Armor says slowly, inching closer and closer to your crush.

"Why sure, I could spare a couple minutes." Applejack replies, turning to face him. "What's up, Shining?"

You watch as Shining Armor briefly looks around, and notices just how many people are watching him about to ask Applejack out to the Fall Formal. For a brief moment, even him of all people looked vulnerable as he takes a deep breath, and prepares to say what he's about to say.

"I've been thinking." Shining Armor begins. "Thinking about the Fall Formal an everything, Applejack..."

"Oh!" Applejack looks at him surprised. "What about it?" All around you, the crowd goes dead silent. So silent, that you can hear Ms. Harshwinny yelling at some poor student all the way on the other side of the hallway. But right now, no test, lecture, or anything that woman could throw at you can match the sheer level of anxiety you're having right now.

"I was looking for someone to go with to the Fall Formal, and I thought it would be great if you and I could go together." Shining Armor says the words of doom.

You keep silent, along a bunch of girls next to you who are all near the brink of crying as they slowly mouth 'No' over and over again. You on the other hand, already know what the next words coming from Applejack are going to be; you can see it in her eyes. What girl wouldn't want to go to the Fall Formal with the six foot three Captain of the Swim Team?

You take a deep breath, and begin carving a path through the mob of students, but not before Applejack quickly glances over you for a moment. It was mostly a look of surprise, but for some reason you swear you could've felt a hint of sadness from those emerald eyes. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking. You shake that image out of your head, and continue walking through the crowd of students, and it's not until you reach the front doors of Canterlot High do you hear the sound of distant cheering, marking Shining Armor's success.

"Hi dear, how was school?" You hear your mom roll down her windows and smile cheerfully at you.

"Pretty good." You force a smile. "It's a Friday."

King Khan Anon

The door to your room is shut. The curtains are pulled down all the way as well, which would have kept your room in complete darkness had your laptop not been on right now. The glowing screen illuminates the entire room with a pale, artificial light as you sit on your chair, hunched over and sipping away on a can of Pepsi as you scroll through your Facebook feed. Suddenly, you hear your notification bar light up and you hit Home, sending yourself all the way back to the top of the feed.

It's......Applejack.

'Going to an event: CHS Fall Formal......' You read, staring at the laptop screen before taking a large gulp of soda.

Normally on a Friday night like this, you'd be playing League of Legends with your friends, but after having one really bad game, but you really don't feel like playing video games at the moment right now; in fact, you don't really feel like doing anything at all. You finish up your can of soda, and just sit back, reclining on your chair. However, no matter how comfortable you can get on your seat, you can't get rid of this huge cavity of nothingness you feel in your chest; that same exact feeling you had when Applejack rejected you.

Suddenly, you hear someone knocking on your door... is it Mom? It can't be; she's watching the college football game of Canterlot University vs. Appleoosa College right now. You can hear the television still going on.

"Who is it?" You ask, not bothering to get up from your chair, let alone turn and face the door.

"It's me!" You hear your dad call out. "I got out early from work today, and I was wondering if you wanted to go to the gym with me."

"I'm good." You reply, going back to your laptop. "My arm still hurts."

"We don't have to exercise arms today though." Your father says. "We can still do legs, and cardio! I can show you how to squat! Heck, we could even do some relay races with each other at the indoor track with other people there! It'll be fun!"

"Squats are for girls." You mutter.

"What?!" Your dad bursts into your room. He has a look of complete disbelief on his face, like you just told him the world was flat or something. "What kind of meathead told you that?! Squats exercise the largest group of muscles in your entire body! They're essential for anybody who wants to have strong quadriceps, abdominal muscles, and hamstrings! Most bodybuilders even-"

You tuned him out a long time ago; you should've just said you don't feel like working out instead of making an assumption in a field you know nothing about. Trying to talk about bodybuilding, and workout stuff to your dad is trying to debate physics with Stephen Hawking.

"Anon, are you even listening?" Your dad asks. "This is important! Squats are probably the most important workout you'll ever do and-"

"I just don't want to go work out, okay Dad?" You cut him off.

"What?! Why?!" His frown of disbelief sinks even more; your dad looks genuinely offended now. "I thought you told me you finally wanted to start getting in shape, Anon!"

"I did, and now I don't anymore."

"Oh, come on, you weren't even there for a week, Anon!" Your dad presses on, pointing at your body. "Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither will you!"

"No means no dad." You grunt, going back to your computer screen.

"Is it because of that whole bench press incident?" Your dad asks. "If it really bothers you that much, then I can find a new gym for you."

"I just don't want to do it anymore dad." You repeat yourself, getting annoyed with your dad's persistence. "I want to quit."

The second that last word leaves your mouth, your entire room goes silent. You can almost hear your own heart beating. The football game your mom's watching which was white noise before now seems deafeningly loud. But these heightened senses all come to an abrupt end the second you hear your father let out a sigh.

"Oh, so that's why......" Your dad says calmly. You turn back, and see him crossing his arms, his t-shirt barely managing to contain the mass of his body. You can even see the individual abs through his shirt.

"So then I guess all that money I spent on your membership at The Forge was wasted then..." He casually comments.

"If you're trying to guilt trip me, it's not gonna work dad." You reply to your dad, looking at him straight in the eye.

"Well... dinner's at five Anon. Pasta night, your favorite."

And with those final words, your dad closes your door, leaving you in complete solitude. For a moment, you're about to go back to your computer to do nothing, but you stop. You look behind yourself, and see your door still closed. Judging from the sound, you dad went downstairs to go and watch the game with your mom. You look over your computer screen one last time, seeing Applejack's smiling profile picture back at you, and get up from the chair.

Slowly, you begin to walk back towards the mirror in your room, and your reflection stands before you. You try flexing, but barely notice a difference as you do; sure your shirt gets a little tight, but there was pretty much no difference. Your reflection stares back at you, arms crossed with a look of contempt on it's face. It's almost as if it's egging you...... egging you on to do something about it.

"Well?" Your reflection raises an eyebrow. You jump back in surprise for a moment, seeing your own reflection acting independently of you. "Are you really gonna quit?"

"Wait wha-what the hell's going on?!" You shout.

"Don't dodge the question." Your reflection demands. "Tell me right now...are you going to quit?"

Ignoring the fact that your own reflection is talking back to you, you sit back and seriously think about what he just asked you...are you? You stare at the ground for a couple seconds, and only look back up when you see your reflection tapping his foot impatiently.

"It's hopeless..." You murmur back. "She's already taken..."

"Don't be stupid, Anon." Your reflection laughs at you. "Just because Shining Armor asked her out to a dance doesn't mean she's automatically his girlfriend."

"Hey, if you're calling me stupid, you're also calling yourself stupid!" You point an accusing finger at your reflection.

"Jeez, I'm just trying to help, why're you getting so offended by this?" Your reflection puts his hands up defensively.

"My point is...don't call it quits just because you've had a small setback." Your reflection says. "You're still in this, and Applejack can still be yours! Think about Galileo; when he said the world wasn't flat, everyone laughed at him! Now go in public and say the opposite, and see how much crap you'll get! And what about Genghis Khan? His father was murdered when he was nine, and then he later turned into the ruler of the biggest empire on Earth!"

"What the hell does Genghis Khan have anything to do with me having a crush on Applejack?" You throw your arms up in outrage. "You're just ranting about nonsense now!"

"And you're the idiot talking to himself in the mirror!" Your reflection retorts. "Genghis Khan would've already stuck a sword through Shining Armor's liver, and be pounding Applejack on a horse right now!"

"I'm not Genghis Khan though!" You shout at your mirror.

"And you never will be if you keep your crappy, spineless attitude!" Your mirror shouts back.

"Well SCREW YOU!"

"I'm just trying to help you get laid, Anon!"

"SCREW YOU AND YOUR SHITTY METAPHORS!" You rush forward, and grab the mirror. You're about to throw it and smash it down on the floor but suddenly, you spot your dad, staring at you with a look of confusion on his face.

"Hey uhmmm......is everything alright?" He asks nervously. "I heard...screaming...and......something about Genghis Khan?"

"Oh ummmm....everything's fine." You say reassuringly. "I was...I was just talking with a friend. We were arguing about something in History class. That's all."

"Oh, okay." Your dad smiles. "I just wanted to say that dinner's ready; see you downstairs, son." Just before your dad closes your room, you quickly grab his arm.

"Dad? There's something I wanted to ask you."

"What is it, Anon?" He asks.

"I...uhmm......I...." You fumble with your words. "I changed my mind about the gym. I don't wanna quit; I still want to get in shape. You were right when you said Rome wasn't built in one day, and I won't either."

As if someone flipped a switch, you watch as your dad's face instantly lights up. He takes a hand, and pats you on your head.

"Attaboy, Anon!" He says enthusiastically. "I'm glad you realized that just because you've had a setback or two that you're not completely out of the game just yet. You'll bounce back, and you'll be better than before, son! Think Genghis Khan, Anon; when he was nine, his father got murdered, and look at what he's become now: the ruler of the biggest empire ever!"

"Oh..." You say blankly. "That's...a pretty cool metaphor, Dad."

Author's Note

Sorry for taking ten centuries and a half to update; three more weeks and classes will be done, and then I'll probably be able to update this story a lot faster. It's frustrating as all hell when you've got all sorts of ideas swimming in your head, but you never have the time to do something about it. :flutterrage:

Chocolate Rain

The last time you went to the Forge, it was 8 at night on a weekday. Naturally, you were pretty much the only person working out then, and you were happy that way; nobody would be judging you, and nobody would see you. You'd quickly go in, do your thing, and get out. Well...at least until the whole bench press incident happened...

This time though, the second you walk in and swipe your card, you can hear the entire gym buzzing with activity; the steady march of people running on their treadmills almost synchronize with the near constant clanging of weights, making the entire place sound like a factory. Occasionally, you hear someone shouting something unintelligible, which is then immediately followed by the deafening ring of metal dropping to the ground.

"So, how do you feel about hitting legs today, Anon?" Your father asks. "They've got these really nice smith machines for squatting here Anon; perfect for beginners."

"Well...as long as it's not as packed..." You say.

"Oh, it's always like this on a Friday evening." Your dad says casually. "Actually...I take that back. Today's pretty empty if you ask me."

"Empty?!" You point at the treadmills in front of you. "There's at least twenty five people on this floor alone!"

"Oh come on, working out when it's crowded is the best!" Your dad smiles, smacking your back. "It stops you from slacking off, since everyone else is working hard!"

You roll your eyes in disbelief. How in the world are you this guy's son?

You stick close to your dad as he navigates through the maze of machines, and sweaty dudes. Every now and then, a particularly muscular looking man calls your dad, and they exchange a few words before fist bumping each other, and going their separate ways. You're honestly not surprised at all that your dad's a celebrity here; he's basically here every day. Every person, from college students barely older than you to full blown grandfathers all recognize him.

"Alright, Anon." Your dad says enthusiastically, breaking your train of thought. "Take a good look at this lady right here!"

You don't know why, but you were half expecting to actually see some girl standing in front of you; it took you a couple seconds to realize he was actually referring to the squatting machine thing that was right behind him. You were disappointed.

"All stainless steel, 16 adjustable positions, and a smooth as silk thrust ball-bearing system that makes it feel as if you're using free weights, but with all the safety of a smith machine." Your dad beams as he runs his hand down the machine. "It's a Grade-A smith machine that's the perfect match for beginners just learning the ropes like you!"

Now...you're no engineer, but you know a nice machine when you see one. And holy cow, this is a nice machine.

"......How much does it cost to be a member here again?" You look at your dad with disbelief.

"Nothing your dad's credit card can't handle." He chuckles. "Now come on son, let me show you the basics."

******

After about an hour of squatting with your dad, your entire shirt is soaked with sweat. As you finally rack the barbell, finishing your final set, your legs nearly give out on you, but you manage to grab something right before you fall. You feel like Bambi just learning to walk as you awkwardly waddle away from the smith machine, and to a nearby chair. Every few seconds, your legs wobble uncontrollably as if they were made of nothing but jelly, nearly causing you to fall multiple times. Fighting against your body, you finally make it to the chair, and take a deep breath of relief.

'This must be what it feels like to be crippled.' You think to yourself, as you wipe off the sweat from your forehead.

Your father's long gone; as soon as he felt confident that you got your form down, he went off to do his own thing. But before he left though, he did give you a bag of this protein powder stuff that you always see him using. He said it helps you build muscles, promote fat loss, increase metabolism, and a whole bunch of other magical stuff.

You take a look at your phone, and find that it's not even 8 yet; your dad said he'd be done by 9. With nothing else to do, you open the bag and find that this stuff looks almost exactly like flour; a brown, sickly sweet flour that smells vaguely of chocolate soy milk. You turn to the bag's other side, and read the instructions.

"Pour contents into bottle with either water or milk, and shake for twenty seconds..." You read out loud. "Consult with a doctor before consumption if you are pregnant..."

'Welp, second part's irrelevant to me.' You think as you pour the protein powder's contents into your water bottle. Now to shake it...

You close the lid, and begin shaking, but as soon as you begin doing so, something doesn't feel right. You know where you went wrong, but it's too late; before you can say anything to warn anyone, a geyser of brown goop shoots out of your untightened bottle cap, and you watch in horror as it rains all over on extremely muscular guy in the middle of his workout.

The guy swears loudly as the protein shake showers his face, causing him to drop one of the dumbells. Just his luck, one of them also happens to land right on the poor guy's toe, causing him to swear even louder. The entire floor goes silent; everyone stops what they're doing, and turns their face towards you.

You try to kick off of your seat to go and help the poor guy, but your still exhausted legs immediately give out, and you begin falling face first into the gym floor. You throw your arms up to try and break the fall, but before they touch the ground, you suddenly feel a powerful force yanking the back of your shirt, lifting you up from the ground.

Slowly, you turn your head and see the guy who you just gave a protein shake shower to; his white skin now a boiling, raging red as he wipes the brown liquid from his face, and stares at you, holding your empty bottle with his other hand. You're so close to this man, that a small gust of wind tickles your face every time he exhales. It's quite gross honestly, but you're in no position to ask him to stop.

"What the hell's your problem, punk?!" He demands, as he shoves your empty water bottle into your chest.

You want to apologize. You want to explain that it was just an accident. You want to say something, anything to save yourself from getting turned inside out, but nothing comes out. You're far too preoccupied (or should you say petrified) by the hellish death stare this guy is giving you as he brings you closer to his face.

"WELL?!" He roars. "You interrupted my workout on BICEPS DAY! NOBODY DISTURBS BULK BICEPS ON A BICEPS DAY!"

"Hey, chill man, chill." You say frantically; Hulk Hogan's shouting has finally brought your survival instincts back online. If you felt like you were sweating like a pig back when you were squatting, it's nothing compared to how much you are right now; it feels absolutely terrifying knowing the next few words that come out of your mouth will mean the difference between life and death for you.

"I'm sorry, bro, I forgot to tighten my lid before I shook my bottle." You say. As you dangle from the air on this behemoth's arm. "It was an honest mistake, I didn't mean any disrespect, I swear!"

They say Honesty's the best policy when it comes to royal screw ups like these, right? Well whoever invented that saying clearly never met someone like this guy; all your words managed to do was to enrage him even further. He starts growling at you like a tiger, and with a thundering roar, chucks you at least four feet across the room.

Fortunately, you land right on a yoga mat, and you look up, seeing him slowly walking towards you with eyes full of feral rage as he picks up a barbell from the bench press, and prepares to swing it at you with it like a maul.

Now staring at the face of death, your legs begin functioning again. You get up from your feet and try to get as far away from this psycho as possible. You'd cry out for someone to help, but everybody else in the gym looks just as terrified as you right now. He takes his first swing with the barbel, and you can feel it brushing against the hair on the back of your head as it misses you by only fractions of an inch.

Every step Bulk Biceps takes, you can hear it behind you like rolling thunder; it's just like those horror games like Amnesia where you know looking back is an awful idea, but you can't help but do it anyways. You look back for a moment, and see your future murderer inches from your face. You cry out in terror, and pick up the pace, only to run right into a wall. You're momentarily dazed by the situation, but have enough time to look up one last time as Bulk Biceps raises the metal barbell over his head like an executioner preparing to decapitate a prisoner.

'This is it...' You think to yourself. 'This psycho's going to kill me...'

You shut your eyes tight, and think of Applejack one last time; with her image clear in your mind, you curl up into a ball, and prepare to take the hit.

...Are you dead? If so, that was one quick death. If you really are dead however, then you don't know why you're still breathing, or sweating, or shaking in fear...shouldn't all that stuff not exist in heaven or something? Who knows; you never really paid that much attention during Sunday school anyways.

You dare to open your eyes, and spot another guy standing in front of you, wrestling with your would-be-killer over the barbell, and from the looks of it, he's actually winning.

"He's not worth it, Bulk." You hear the voice and instantly recognize it belonging to Shining Armor. "He's new; cut the poor kid some slack."

"I was about to get a personal best, until this punk mucked it up!" Bulk Biceps barks at you. "He made me stub my toe on a 70 pound dumbell, and covered me in his protein shake! Plus, I just washed this shirt too!"

"Just drop it." Shining Armor says, firmly, continuing to hold the barbell in place. "It was an honest mistake what he did; just let him go."

"I don't care, that maggot needs to know his place!" Bulk Biceps shouts. He steps forward to try and rip the metal bar out of Shining Armor's hands, but Shining Armor quickly spins around, grabs Bulk's wrist, and twists it behind his back. Before you can even blink, Bulk Biceps is face-first on the ground, tapping the floor desperately with his free hand.

"Alright! Alright! I got it!" Bulk shouts in pain as Shining Armor continues holding his wrist. "I'll leave him alone, just stop!"

"You sure?" Shining Armor asks.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" he squeals. "Just let me go!"

As soon as Shining Armor releases Bulk Biceps, he immediately scurries off like a terrified rat, grabbing his bag and immediately heading for the nearest elevator with his baseball cap tipped downwards to hide his face. You just sit there, completely dumbfounded after seeing Shining Armor so easily overpower someone almost twice his size.

"......Thanks...a lot." You say awkwardly to Shining Armor; the most popular guy in Canterlot High, as well as the one who stole the love of your life, and also happened to save you. You honestly don't know what to feel towards this guy now.

"Not a problem." Shining Armor smiles, helping you back up. "You ought to learn to pick your fights better though."

"I didn't mean to do it!" You argue. "I was tired, and I just wasn't thinking straight! I-"

"Chill, I'm just messing with you bro." Shining Armor laughs. "I know; Bulk's an asshole to everyone to be honest, but once you start standing up for yourself, he'll leave you alone. That's just the way he is."

"Not sure how I can stand up to two hundred pounds of muscle..." You mutter.

"Well, it's not that hard when all those muscles are in nothing but his biceps." Shining Armor chuckles. "I don't think I've ever seen him do a squat here; in fact, I bet you squat more than he ever could!"

"Oh...all I did was just a 45 and a 10 on each side..." You comment. "Probably nothing compared to what you can do-"

"That much?!" Shining Armor cuts you off, a surprised look in his eyes. "Hell, that's actually really impressive for your first time!"

Never in your entire life have you felt such complicated emotions; on one side, you want to dislike him with all your heart for taking her, but on the other side, you feel a deep sense of pride after being complimented by the most popular guy in all of Canterlot High, as well as the one who just saved your life.

"Anyways, I gotta go now." Shining Armor says. "Need to go to bed early from swim practice tomorrow. Catch you later, Anon!"

You watch as Shining Armor disappears from your sight, leaving you standing there, swimming in your own pool of emotions. You have to say, whatever preconceptions of Shining Armor being some pigheaded jock you had before were gone after that tussle with Bulk Biceps. You don't know anyone, save for maybe your dad, who would've had the balls to intervene right there. The guy saved your life for crying out loud.

Yet at the same time, as petty as it sounds, you feel angry, almost humiliated over what just happened. Of all the people to save your ass back there, it just had to also be the one to steal your girl, didn't it?

You shake your head. No. You're overthinking this. Applejack rejected you, and Shining Armor won fair and square; there's no point being a bad sport over it all. You decide maybe going downstairs to run on a treadmill for a while will brush aside your negative feelings. You start walking down the stairs, and spot Shining Armor leaving The Forge, talking with a girl. You didn't get a clear view of who she was, but your imagination quickly fills the gaps.

Hopefully, you'll stop thinking about it once you start jogging.

Post-Traumatic Squat Disorder

As you look across the dinner table, everything is going as it usually does during a Friday night supper; Big Macintosh has an entire plate of ribs, green beans, and the leftovers from yesterday all to himself, you're snacking away on a yogurt parfait with minced apples fresh off the farm, and Granny Smith's berating Apple Bloom for not eating her vegetables again.

"You gonna eat that, sis?" Big Mac asks, pointing at the plate of cold ribs on your plate.

"All yours." You reply, staring out at the horizon of the farm. Sweet Apple Acres is technically still in Canterlot, despite it being almost an hour drive to Canterlot High every day. If it's a clear day with no fog, you can just barely make out the skyscrapers of downtown Canterlot from the window of your humble little home.

And somewhere in Canterlot, you know there's a poor guy walking around those streets with a broken heart...

You clench your spoon, and take an aggressively large bite out of your food, trying to think of something else. You know when you rejected him, you didn't really word it as well as you wanted, but in your own defense, he came up onto you so suddenly. How were you supposed to know he liked you? You were completely blindsided!

"Still thinkin' about him?" Big Macintosh blurts out, with food still in his mouth.

"Well...not really......but...sort of...just a bit." You cringe at how bad of a liar you are. Your friends and family always praise you for being an honest and down to earth human being, but you swear, it sometimes feels like a curse.

"Anon really is a nice guy and all..." You continue. "But......he's not someone I could see myself with..."

"It's the fourth time this week you've mentioned this young man to us." Granny Smith remarks. "Maybe he's not as bad as you think..."

"Even if he isn't, I've already agreed to go with someone else, so there's nothin' I can do about it!" You snap. "Besides...Anon ain't exactly the image of the kinda person my pa would've wanted me with..."

The whole table goes silent. It's been years since any of you have ever mentioned your parents. It's just been a taboo to talk about them in the house. You look to your left, and you notice both Big Macintosh, and Granny Smith staring at you in shock. The food in Big Mac's wide open mouth simply falls back down onto his plate. The only one unaffected by your mentioning of your father was Applebloom, and that's because she was way too small to remember anything when it happened...

"Your father would'a wanted you to do whatever makes you happy." Granny Smith replies, with closed eyes, before resuming to her food.

Finally, the the table goes back to normal, as if nothing's happened at all. You eat your last spoonful of yogurt slowly, trying to mop up every bit of food on the spoon as you look towards the Canterlot cityscape one more time, watching as the sun sets, it's deep orange rays leaking from between the skyscrapers as it sinks deeper and deeper below the sky, giving way to the night.

******

You can hear the faint sounds of birds singing, as a thin ray of light squeezes through the small gap in your curtains, and shines on your face, telling you that it's time to get up. A yawn here, a stretching of your neck there, and you slowly rise from your bed, feeling unnaturally refreshed.

Usually on Saturday mornings, you wake up at around 11 AM with your brain feeling fuzzy and sluggish, and it takes at least two hours for that feeling to go away. But here you are, sitting on your bed when it's not even 9 yet and you feel perfectly fine. Looks like your dad was right when he says working out makes you sleep better.

Everyone has a daily morning ritual after waking up; yours begins with the toilet. You get up from your bed, and head towards the bathroom on the other side of the hallway. Finding your favorite porcelain throne, you immediately plop down, letting go of your lunch from yesterday as you plan on how to spend your weekend. After feeling like you've finished delivering your payload however, you realize there's no more toilet paper left on the rack.

"Ughhh..." You groan. Your dad has this awful habit of never restocking when he finishes a roll. But just your luck, there's a fresh roll on the sink nearby.

You prepare to get up from your toilet, but some primordial force keeps you from moving. You try again, this time with more force, and you involuntarily cry out in pain as your legs, specifically your quads feel as if someone has just injected hot molten iron into them.

"Anon?" You hear your mom call out from upstairs. "Is everything alright?"

"Don't worry, I'm fine!" You lie. "I...I...just stubbed my toe, that's all!"

You feel your quads, and your eyes widen with disbelief over how tight they feel right now. Forget molten iron; this is god damn adamantium you're dealing with. You try to get up again, but the second you need your quads to put in just one joule of work, the pain all comes back, more intense than ever.

"Fuck...!" You curse under your breath as you stare at the roll of toilet paper on the other side of the bathroom. "How the hell am I gonna get that?"

It's times like these when you wish you lived in the Star Wars universe; you could just extend your hand, and the Force would bring you your prize. But no; in this universe, everything sucks. You try a third time, using your arms to push off the toilet seat, but you only make about two inches of progress; your legs are just nonfunctional right now, and you end up back where you started.

"Come on..." You groan, trying to massage the soreness of your quads away. "You can do this."

You take a deep breath, close your eyes, and count to three...on three, you're going to give this one more try.

"One..." You say softly, your eyes frantically pacing around behind your eyelids.

"Two..." You can almost hear your legs begging you not to try and get up again. But what else are you supposed to do? Stay on the toilet all day long? Screw that.

"Three!"

******

It was already enough of a hassle trying to get that one roll of toilet paper on the other side of the bathroom; trying to actually get out of the bathroom? You basically dragged yourself across the floor. For some time, you seriously considered just crying for help, but you know your parents would never let you hear the end of it if it happened. You slam the door behind yourself in triumph, and smell the fresh scent of mom's cooking, waiting for you downstairs.

"Omelettes." You whisper to yourself in excitement. Suddenly, the constant throbbing of your legs are gone, and you feel reinvigorated. But that same feeling of happiness immediately disappears when you see what's before you.

Stairs. Thirty six steps of stairs.

It was hard enough just moving your legs once to get up from the toilet, but now you need to do it thirty six times? Screw it; you weren't that hungry anyways...

Except you actually are hungry. Really hungry. However, you know your limits; if you're going down those stairs, you're not going to make it. Not by a long shot. But you can't just stay upstairs forever, you need food. You cross your heart, and hold onto the railings with both hands as you take your first step. Just like before, your leg starts to protest with pain, with every single inch forward brings more and more. You're gripping the railing so hard, your knuckles are turning white, and this is only the first step.

"Time for the left leg..." You say to yourself. The process begins all over again.

Your whole body tenses up once again, but this time it feels even worse; your left leg feels so sore that if it got any tighter, it would collapse into a black hole. The pain quickly becomes too much, and you begin feeling the terrifying sensation of losing your balance.

"Oh crap..." You say, feeling it getting worse. "Oh crap!"

******

You feel the sharp sting of the antiseptic your mom applies to your knee. Thankfully, there were no broken bones, but you got some pretty nasty carpet burns as you tumbled down the stairs.

"Why didn't you just call me or your father?" She asks. She almost seems amused over all of this.

"I...I thought I could've made it." You groan, gritting your teeth as the hydrogen peroxide really starts to soak into your scrapes.

"Let me see your other leg, Anon." Your mom says as she finishes patching up your leg. "My biggest concern was just how you didn't ask for help when you clearly needed it...that's how people get hurt. Think about that bench press incident you had earlier, Anon."

"Mom...please don't bring that up." You groan, feeling the painful antiseptic do its work. "I...I just want to forget that ever happened."

"Why?" Your mother asks. "It was a learning experience for you; you learned something important that day, and you came out smarter and better than you were before, Anon."

"Yeah, but I probably looked like the biggest idiot ever when it happened." You protest. "Why...why can't I just get things right the first time, like you, or dad?"

Your mom looks back, against the living room wall. Ever since she married your dad, the two added a bulletin board right next to the T.V. where they nail all their marathon and 5k tags. As of today, the two of them have ran about 87 5k's, 23 half marathons, and 6 full marathons total. There's so many running tags on that bulletin board, that you don't even know what color the bare board is.

"Did you know that when I first met your father in middle school, he was the slowest kid in our gym class?" Your mom asks, taking her eyes off the bulletin board. "Every time, he would always be the one who'd finish dead last, and that didn't change until freshman year of high school."

"Dad?" Your jaws drop in disbelief. "No way."

"I'm not lying." Your mom shakes her head. "He was the only boy in his class who couldn't run a mile without running out of breath. Everyone made fun of him; even the gym teacher once."

"So, how did he turn into..." You gesticulate with your hands. "You know, the guy he is today?"

She finishes up your final bandage and an all-knowing smile cracks across her face.

"A lot of hard work."

"It doesn't happen overnight, Anon." Your mom explains. "It took him months, even years of following a regiment every day to get to where he was."

"However, I can see you really do want to change, and make yourself a better person." Your mom puts a hand on your shoulder smiling. "Your father and I are both immensely proud of you for that first step; stay strong, keep working, and I know you'll make it, just like your father."

******

Before you even knew it, the weekend was over. You're back to roaming the hallways of Canterlot High again, going from class to class. Your legs though better, are still extremely sore, and you still consider stairs as safety hazards for yourself, which you tried really hard to explain to Ms. Harshwinny. Too bad you're still getting detention for being ten minutes late to class.

"I had to go down three flights of stairs." You complain to Twilight Sparkle after class. "That's like climbing down the Alps for me!"

"Yeah...it's a little unfair if you ask me." She replies. "By the way, how do you feel about that precalculus quiz?"

"I didn't really study, so I'm not sure." You say.

"I think I might have messed up my algebra on the question where you had to take the limit of x goes to infinity on the square-root of x plus five over-"

"You probably did fine." You pat Twilight on the back. "I'm sure you got a perfect score on that quiz just like on the past five we've had so far. Anyways, here's Ms. Harshwinny's room. Time to see what she wants me to do for the next half hour."

"Alright, bye Anon. See you in class." She waves goodbye before disappearing from your view. You now turn to see Ms. Harshwinny, looking very stern and displeased. Actually scratch that; she always looks like that.

"Good afternoon, Anonymous." She says, her arms crossed around her chest. "I hope your legs are feeling a little better..."

"Thanks, Ms. Harshwinny." You reply monotonously.

"I was planning on having you sweep up the classroom for the janitors, but considering the state you're in, I thought I'd have you grade quizzes from my other class instead." She says "Here's the answer sheet, and grading template. You may leave when they're all finished."

She steps aside, revealing before you two folders filled with so much paper that they're about to burst.

'Are you kidding me?!' You think in your mind. 'That's going to take at least two hours! Detention is only supposed to last thirty minutes!'

"...Is there something wrong?" Ms. Harshwinny asks, her scowling frown getting deeper and deeper as each second passes by.

"No, Ms. Harshwinny." You say as you hold back the urge of tackling her to the ground.

"I'll be in the teacher's lounge if you have any questions with grading the open response problems." Ms. Harshwinny says. The door closes behind her, leaving you alone in the classroom with nothing but a red pen, and at least eighty quizzes that you need to grade all by yourself.

"What a woman..." You mutter, as you grab the pen, and start on the first quiz.

******

"Yup you get an A, Twilight." You think aloud as you finish grading her quiz. "...Again."

Although Ms. Harshwinny universally despises every student in Canterlot High, you're probably the one she dislikes the most. You don't even know what you did to make that woman hate you so much. Sure you're sometimes on your phone when she's talking, but you're far from the only one who does that, and she only calls you out when you do that.

But if there was one thing that made your day though, and it was Diamond Tiara's quiz; she didn't answer a single question, and instead just wrote on the back saying how her mom is the superintendent of the Canterlot district, and if Ms. Harshwinny fails her, she'll lose her job.

"An A for you, Diamond." You snicker, giving her quiz a 100 as you draw a big smiley face right next to her grade. You take your words back; maybe there really are students out who Ms. Harshwinny hates more than you, as hard as it is to believe.

As for the rest of the students whose parents aren't superintendents, you try your hardest to give as much partial credit as you can; everyone's GPA is going to be devastated after this nightmare of a class, so why not soften the blow for the other students?

The process goes on, and on; minutes become hours, until you finally grade the last quiz. Taking a huge sigh of relief, you stack up all the graded quizzes, and stumble out of the classroom, your brain feeling like a char-broiled steak patty after the countless papers you had to grade. You check your phone, and realize it went on even longer than you thought; that detention lasted almost three hours.

Normally when you get out of school, you typically begin your homework, and do whatever you needs to be done, but after spending an entire afternoon grading papers? Your brain's done thinking for the day. You pull out your phone, and begin texting your mom to pick you up. You're definitely going to be doing nothing but going on a Breaking Bad binge after you get home.

As you begin texting her however, you feel a strange, nagging feeling in the back of your head; the same feeling you get when you know you've lost something, but have no idea what you even lost. You ignore the feeling, and send your message to your mom. The school closes at 6:30, and it's already 5. Outside, you can see all the members of track team on the horizon, nearly done with their run and heading back to the school.

"What a workout." You huff. You hear the varsity kids not only run like 5 miles a day, but they do it uphill, and they still have practice even if it's raining or snowing. It's really admirable how tough they are. It makes you wonder how long you'd last under that kind of abuse...

That nagging feeling in the back of your head begins to surface again, but this time, you immediately know what it is now. You immediately pull out your phone, and begin texting your mom again:

Mom, can you also grab a pair of shorts an a shirt from my closet? I wanna go the gym right now.

Author's Note

I'm really sorry for not updating this story for a while, all I can say is if you want a life outside of studying, don't major in chemical engineering, and never take calculus, chemistry, physics, and MATLAB programming courses all in one single semester. You will hate yourself for doing it.

Fortunately, the semester's done, I passed all of those awful classes, and it's break now. Merry Christmas, guys!

The Shining Armor Effect

You wave goodbye to your mom as she drops you off in front of the Forge. When you think about it, this is your first time going in alone. Every time you went to the gym, it was with your dad, but not this time. You enter the building, and find that same bodybuilder woman who rescued you from the bench press still working at the front desk. Her nose is buried in some workout magazine. Hopefully, she doesn't recognize you...

"Back for more?" The woman says, causing you to jump in surprise. Her gaze is still fixed on her magazine as she talks to you.

"Y-y-yeah." You laugh nervously, handing the woman your card. "Just...doing my best to stay in shape, you know?"

"Actually, I wouldn't." She says flatly as she cards you in. "I was always the strongest person in my class back when I was in school; I could even lift my own gym teacher with one hand whenever I felt like it."

'No surprises there...' You think to yourself as she hands your card back.

"Figured you'd have quit after that whole bench press incident..." She comments, going back to her magazine.

"Hey, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" You say. The only reply you get back is just a small, gruff chuckle from her.

"Well, welcome back. Have a nice workout, sir."

You wave goodbye, and pull out a workout routine on your phone that your dad gave you. According to that, today should be biceps day. You begin roaming the gym in search of an empty bench for you to do your curls, until from the corner of your eye, you spot someone that makes you stop dead in your tracks.

"Oh, great." You mutter, spotting your new gym-buddy Bulk Biceps doing curls with a pair of dumbbells the size of your thighs. You quickly look around, and find a nice, empty bench far away from that monster. You look behind one more time just to be sure before you begin to settle down, and begin your workout.

Now...according to this workout routine, for biceps you should be doing 5 sets of curls with 5 reps for each arm, making for a total of ten each set. Sounds reasonable enough. You look to your left, seeing a lithe girl doing the same exact thing you're about to do with a pair of 10's.

'Hmmm, maybe I can handle 30's then.' You think as you grab them from the rack. You begin your first set without much trouble, alternating between your left and right arm. Before you even know it, you're done with your first set, and you sit back on your bench, proud of yourself. You pull out your phone, and set a timer for one minute.

You take the time to stretch, and just keep an eye on Bulk Biceps. So far, he still hasn't noticed you, and you want to keep it that way. It also wasn't until just now though, that you realize the girl you're working out right next to is actually really good looking. Almost as pretty as Applejack. Come to think of it, you may not be going to the Fall Formal with Applejack, but you'd totally go with her if she said yes...

'But she's in the middle of a workout, idiot.' You think to yourself before you act. 'That would be so creepy if you suddenly just started talking to her as she's doing her curls.' Instead, you should try to impress her. Nodding to yourself, you get up, and grab a pair of 40 pound dumbbells. The 30's felt kind of easy anyways.

'These'll definitely snag her attention.' You smirk at the dumbbells, getting ready for your second set.

You take a deep breath, and lift the two dumbbells upwards, and you immediately regret doing so. You really didn't think these extra 10 pounds would make this much of a difference, but they are. And just your luck, the girl stopped her workout, and she's looking in your direction. You have to finish your set now.

'One...' You count in your head. Just one curl is already difficult enough, but you need nine more.

'Two...' You're confident that your right arm can pull at least three...but now that you finished your first curl with your left, you're not so sure about this arm...

'Three...'

'Four...' Your left arm begins to shake violently only after it's second curl. However, you do your best to make it finish the set. Can't embarrass yourself in front of the ladies now, right?

'Five...'

'Six...'

'Seven...' Now you're right arm's hitting its limit...

'Eight...' You barely manage to get it through. Only through sheer willpower do you pull it all the way up.

'Nine...' You now have to rest your elbow and against your knee for the extra leverage to get it through. Your bicep's screaming in protest over the abuse you're putting it through, but you clench your teeth, and fight through the burning pain. You're almost there! You need to keep pushing through!

With the last curl for your left arm, you clench your teeth as hard as you can, and tense up every muscle you can. The dumbbell's moving, but it's going at an agonizingly slow rate.

'Come on...' You take a quick breath, and close one eye. You feel like you're about to have an aneurysm, but you're not giving up; you're so damn close!

"Ten!" You gasp, dropping the dumbbells immediately. They crash loudly against the gym floor, causing some people to look over and see what's going on, but you don't care. Your head feels a little fuzzy, and you immediately grab your water bottle, chugging down its contents as fast as you can. When you finally put down the bottle, you can feel a rush of blood through your head and most notably, your arms.

"Hey there." You hear the girl next to you and see her smiling. But you quickly realize she's actually looking at someone else.

"Hi, Lyra how's it going?" You turn around, and see none other than Shining Armor waving at the girl. He then sees you, and smiles.

"Oh, Anon! What's up?" He says. He raises his fist, expecting you to bump it, but you're way too exhausted to even raise your arm that high.

"Jeez, you look like you've been through hell and back." Shining Armor laughs. "Working hard, I guess."

"Yeah..." You reply, taking another sip of water from your bottle. "Working really hard."

You never liked it when you're around to Shining Armor; you don't know if it's because of his outgoing and upbeat personality that brims with confidence, or because he embarrasses you in every sport you play in gym class together, or if it's just because he's the guy who stole your crush and then saved your life two days later. It's probably a combination of it all. You watch as he breaks into conversation with the girl who he effortlessly won her undivided attention from. He makes it look so easy.

'And here I am, just trying to get her to look at me.' You roll your eyes. At least you get to quietly put away the 40's that you're never going to use again without anyone noticing...

"So, you know Anon?" Shining Armor points at you. "He's a cool guy, Lyra."

"Hey." You wave towards the girl with a friendly smile. "That's me.......in case you didn't know already."

"Hi..." Lyra replies slowly, narrowing her face into a neutral expression, bordering on disgust; it's the kind of look girls give to guys to try and make them feel uncomfortable, so they can leave. But her face immediately flips to a genuine smile the second she turns to Shining Armor again. "So...did you just get here, Shining?"

"Actually, yeah." He says. "I'd love to hang around, but I gotta do my workout fast today; got swim practice at 6 in the morning tomorrow, you know?"

"You're always so darn busy, Shining." She giggles. "Don't you ever relax?"

"Sometimes." He shrugs.

"Well, if you feel like skipping practice tomorrow, we could hang out at my place when you're done." She remarks as gives Shining Armor a half lidded gaze. "My parents are also out of town for a couple days too..."

"Sorry, but I'm the captain; I can't skip." Shining Armor says, before pointing a thumb at you. "I'm sure Anon might be interested though!"

And with that, Shining Armor finds a machine and begins his workout, leaving Lyra looking a little dumbfounded. She really looked confident that she'd get him to come over; you can relate to that feeling of being shut down.

"You know...I've got nothing to do after my workout so-"

"In your dreams." Lyra replies flatly. She then grabs her bag and walks out, audibly huffing with frustration.

Welp...guess you can scrap Fall Formal Plan B. You must have been some kind of satanic puppy torturer in some previous lifetime to deserve this kind of treatment from girls. But at least Lyra's rejection didn't nearly feel anywhere as bad as Applejack's. You sort of just shrug it off as 'whatever'. You find your original dumbbells, and finish the rest your remaining 3 sets quietly before packing up and heading home.

As you prepare to leave, you see Shining Armor preparing to do some bench presses before he motions you over with his hands.

"Need something?" You ask.

"Yeah..." Shining Armor replies. "Think you can spot me?"

"I guess..." You yawn. "Just finished my workout anyways."

"Sweet!" He smiles. "Thanks! I'm going for 6, just so you know."

You watch as Shining Armor grunts, and lifts the barbell as if it's a feather, and begins doing reps with perfect form. You're amazed, especially considering how much weight he's got on too. It doesn't take long for him to finish his set, and rack the barbell.

"How was my form?" Shining Armor asks, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Was I leaning on the left, or right, or anything?"

"Dead on." You reply. After a small forty second break, he immediately begins his second set, with equally perfect form. He doesn't even need you here; he's easily got that barbell under control.

"So...did you get Lyra's number?" Shining Armor asks, trying to create some small talk. "Did you?"

"She told me 'In your dreams'." You reply, checking your phone for a brief moment. "So yeah, no."

"Wow, that's really bitchy of her." Shining Armor frowns. "She could've at least been nice about it."

"It is what it is." You shrug. "I hear this year's Fall Formal was gonna to be lame anyways."

The truth though, is that you heard this Fall Formal was actually going to be awesome; Principal Celestia said there won't be breathalyzers, and rumors say there's going to be a sick afterparty at Rarity's when it was over too. Shining Armor stares at the ground in a moment of awkward silence, the only sounds in the gym being the music on the loudspeakers, and the clanging of weights from other people working out. It's a pretty slow day, so it's not as packed as it usually is. Forty seconds have long passed, and Shining isn't going onto his next set. He's just staring at the ground, with a serious, almost angry expression on his face.

"Anon?" Shining Armor turns around, with an unsure look on his face. It's surprising, since you usually see him always so confident. "I wanted to ask something...it might be a little personal..."

"Yeah?"

"You don't......" Shining looks up at the ceiling, as if he's struggling to find the right words. "You don't hate me or anything, do you?"

"What?" You raise an eyebrow.

"I've recently been talking with Applejack, and...she was a little worried..." He continues. "Worried that you might have taken the whole rejection thing personally, or something."

"Oh..." You say plainly. "Well...of course I'm upset; I got rejected by one of CHS's most beautiful girls. Who wouldn't?"

"Yeah, you're right." Shining Armor says. "But you know, there's still other girls out there you could go to the Fall Formal with."

"Like who?" You scoff. "Lyra? Thanks for trying to set me up with her, but I'm all good."

Awkward silence ensues again, and Shining Armor sits back and starts his new set. But now that he's busy with his workout, you suddenly feel an urge to talk.

"I planned that out for weeks, you know..." You continue on. "Rehearsing the same lines to myself in the mirror, trying to think of the best spot to say it......I wouldn't have put in all that effort if I knew it was all for nothing."

"That does suck..." Shining Armor admits, finishing his set. "But come on, you're not even that bad looking, just a little scrawny, that's all. You could easily find a girl if you tried hard enough!"

"The Fall Formal's in a week!" You say, pointing one finger to emphasize your point. "If I planned out almost a month in advance to ask out Applejack and that flopped, how am I going to get a girl in less than half of that time? Any girl out there who isn't taken already is either not interested, or looks like a complete trainwreck."

"Not from what I know." He smirks. "Lemme finish my last set, and I'll tell you all about what I have in plan..."

******

"Fluttershy?!" You exclaim in disbelief. "I don't know about you, but if I can't even get Lyra to talk to me, how do you expect me to woo her?"

"Relax buddy, things'll be different this time." Shining Armor reassures you. "It won't be like what happened with Lyra, I promise."

The two of you step into the elevator, and press the ground floor. When the elevator doors close, Shining Armor looks back at you.

"This time you're gonna have me, Anon." Shining Armor pats you on the back. "You're gonna have the 'Tom Cruise Effect' on your side."

"The what?" You raise an eyebrow.

"The 'Tom Cruise Effect.'" Shining Armor repeats himself. "It's how I got my first date."

"What is this 'Tom Cruise Effect'?" You ask, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Well...let's pretend you're out clubbing with someone famous...like Tom Cruise." Shining Armor explains. "Obviously, people like him are going to attract girls by the dozens, right?"

"Okay...?"

"However, Tom's even attracting the ones who know they've got absolutely no chance to be with him." Shining Armor continues. "And that's the key."

"'Cause if they can't get Tom Cruise...then what about the guy who's so cool that he's sitting next to Tom Cruise? He's gotta have something going for him if Tom likes him, right?"

'Wow...' You think. 'That...actually sounds like it would work; fake it 'till you make it, right?'

The elevator reaches the ground floor, and the two of you walk out of the gym together in silence. Meanwhile, you're mentally debating with yourself over this whole... "Tom Cruise Effect". Would it really work? Well if it worked for Shining Armor, it'll work good enough for you. But even then, what's going to happen after?

You step out of the gym, and are immediately greeted by a fresh gust of wind. It's not even October yet, so wearing nothing but gym clothes at night is perfectly fine. In fact, you welcome the fresh air. Shining Armor stops, and stands in front of you with his back turned, his tall chiseled figure reflects off from the setting sun, giving him a 'superhero' sort of look as the typical city sounds of cars rushing by echo behind him.

"You know..." He says solemnly. "Full disclosure, I can't guarantee if this is gonna work; when I tried it, it was only because the girl also happened to like me as well..."

"Yeah but at this point, I'm already used to girls shutting me down." You say. "What's one more?"

"Don't say that." He chuckles. "Who knows? This could be your breakthrough, Anon."

"Maybe." You mutter, as you watch the sun sink beneath the buildings of Canterlot. "Maybe."

Sink or Swim

It's 7:10 in the morning, and another Tuesday at school is about to begin. People walk in all random directions, and everyone seems preoccupied with either last minute homework, or trying to find their friends. Through the crowd of students however, you finally spot Shining Armor, who notices you as well. Without a word, you follow him into the cafeteria, and find empty seats. In the morning, Shining Armor looks a lot less impressive than he usually does; his hair's wet and unkempt from swim practice, and he walks slouched over, holding his phone with one hand and a cup of ice coffee with the other.

"You alright?" You ask Shining Armor.

"I'm telling you Anon, 6AM swim practices suck." He yawns, before taking a large sip of his coffee. "You ever woken up at 5 every single day for a whole semester before?."

"Sounds like hell." You cringe. "Do you even sleep?"

"You just go to bed earlier, that's all." Shining Armor shrugs. With another large sip, he finishes his coffee, and throws the empty cup into a trashcan behind him, before turning to you.

"Alright, Anon..." His tired eyes suddenly opening with intensity. "So you remember what to do right? Remember everything I told you last night?"

"Yeah..." You nod. "Stand straight, push my shoulders back, don't slouch when I'm talking, and talk with confidence, even if I'm not."

"Spot on." He gives you a thumbs up. "Now...let's pretend I'm Fluttershy, Anon. How are you going to approach me?"

"Right after Chemistry class." You reply.

"No, I mean what are you going to say?"

Your brain stops dead in its tracks. What were you going to say again? It's been so long ago since you and Shining Armor were talking about it last night, that they all felt like a blur.

"Well, I'm going to have you with me for the whole Tom Cruise Effect thing, right?" You point at Shining Armor.

"Yeah, but I can't ask Fluttershy out for you." He says. "What would you say to Fluttershy to start the conversation, and eventually move on to the Fall Formal? Pretend I'm Fluttershy right now, Anon. What would you say to me?" You try to recall the line Shining Armor said to use as hard as you can, but to no avail.

"Hey, there, I...." You stammer with your words, trying to remember the line word for word. "I......I heard you... need help with.........Chemistry homework?"

Shining Armor facepalms and just shakes his head.

"Chemistry homework?" He looks at you as if you just said the world was flat. "That's your best? Come on, that sounds like something my sister would have said!"

"What do you mean?" You look at Shining Armor confused. "That felt perfectly fine to me."

"'Oh, I already did the homework, Anon. See ya.'" Shining Armor says, mimicking Fluttershy's voice. "...and there goes your chance to ask her out."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" You ask.

"She's a shy girl Anon." Shining Armor says. "That means you'll have to ask first. Compliment her, take an interest in her hobbies. Make her feel comfortable around you and once she opens up, that's when you do it!"

"If only it's as easy as you make it out..." You grumble.

******

Your Chemistry class ends the way it always does: you frantically trying to keep up with Mr. Starswirl as he writes at the speed of light on his blackboard, while not understanding a single thing he says. The bell finally rings, and you sigh in relief. You pack up your things, and when you walk out the classroom, you spot Shining Armor leaning against a wall with an smirk on his face.

"She's right across the hallway." He smiles. "This is your chance!"

You peek your head around the corner of the hallway and sure enough, you spot Fluttershy talking with Rainbow Dash and Rarity. As her head turns your way, you quickly duck back behind the corner, and turn back to Shining Armor. You can feel your heartbeat starting to rise as you begin to panic. Fuck, you never prepared for something like this!

"Damn it, she's with her friends!" You look at Shining Armor desperately. "What do I do now?"

"I'll go distract them." Shining Armor whispers, as he takes a peek himself. "Once you see them walk away from Fluttershy with me, go in."

"You know......I think we're rushing this a little..." You gulp.

"What? What do you mean?" He raises an eyebrow in confusion.

"We didn't plan for this!" You say.

"We're planning right now!" He answers back, pointing a finger into your chest. "Come on, you got this!"

"I mean......maybe we should take a day or two to think everything through, you know?" You answer. "I......I can barely remember any of the pickup lines you've told me, anyways! We should take some time to-"

"The Fall Formal's in two days!" Shining Armor cuts you off. "You don't have time!"

"No, seriously!" You say. "We still got tomorrow-"

Before you can finish your sentence, Shining Armor grabs your shoulders, and flings you out into the hallway. You barely keep your face from flying into the lockers as you turn around to face three of the most popular girls of Canterlot High. Fluttershy stands in the middle, staring at you oddly as she's flanked by Rarity on her left, and Rainbow to the right. The two girls close ranks and their shoulders block you off from Fluttershy, as if they already know what you're planning on doing.

Ever since middle school, you were terrified of talking to girls; you wouldn't even talk to them unless it was completely necessary. While that fear's mostly gone now that you're in high school, Rainbow Dash and Rarity are the two exceptions; Rainbow for being way more athletic then you, and constantly embarrassing you in gym class, and Rarity for being able to weaponize gossip in ways that would violate the Geneva Convention. Now here you are with these two girls staring you down as Fluttershy meekly peeks over their shoulders at you.

"Oh, hey Fluttershy!" You smile weakly as you lean sideways to peek at her as she's blocked by her two friends. "Didn't see you there......over you know...your friends."

"Uhhh, who are you?" Rainbow Dash looks at you funny. "How do you know Fluttershy?"

Your're digging through your mind, trying to find something witty to say, before all the sudden Shining Armor appears out from the corner, and gives a warm smile to the two girls. Immediately, the icy, unwelcoming bitch-faces of Rarity and Rainbow Dash melt as Shining Armor walks past you, and fistbumps Rainbow Dash.

"'Oh, hey Dash!" Shining Armor waves to Rainbow. "I heard you and the girls kicked Crystal Preps' asses last night at the game."

"4-0." Rainbow Dash says proudly, then points a thumb at herself. "And the last goal was done in the final ten seconds by yours truly."

"Damn." He chuckles. "Way to pour salt on the wounds there, Dash."

"Dude, it was the freest game ever!" Rainbow laughs. "Their goalie got an ACL tear so they threw in some poor freshman to take her place! I honestly felt bad for that sucker! How's the swim team holding up though?"

"It's going..." He shrugs. "Our best relay guys were all seniors, so we lost them all but I'm trying to make do with what we have. But what I'm really excited about is the Fall Formal."

"So is Applejack." Rarity says. "I'm really happy that you're going with Applejack; you two look so cute together! Did you find out what you're going to wear?"

"You know, I was just about to go looking for you you ask." He replies. "Think you can help me out on this one, Rares?"

"Oh, of course!" She squeals with delight. "What are you thinking of? A tux? A two-piece? Or maybe even-"

"You know, why don't we go to your locker to talk about it?" He cuts her off, before briefly winking to you. "I wanna make sure we get this down."

"Why certainly!" She exclaims. "Quick, let's go! The Formal's only in two days, we have to make sure you look your best!"

You watch as Shining Armor walks away with Rarity, and you look back at where Fluttershy is. By some miracle, Rainbow Dash abandoned her post at Fluttershy's side to go talk to some of her other friends, leaving you and Fluttershy alone, who also happens to be looking at your right in the eye. Wait...was it because you were staring? Are you staring? Sweat begins to form around your forehead as you realize your chance has finally come. You briefly cross your heart, take a deep breath, and begin taking steps towards Fluttershy.

"Hey, Fluttershy." You smile, trying your best to sound smooth, even though she probably knows you'r nervous as all hell.

"Hey." She replies in almost a whisper. Uh oh, is that bad? Does that mean she's not interested? "Are you alright, Anon? Your face looks super red; do you have a fever?"

Crap, is your face red? She probably knows what you're about to try to do. She probably...

"Nah, it's just how I look when I'm really fucking nervous." You blurt out, before realizing what you just said. You're screaming internally right now; if it wasn't for the fact that you're out in public, you'd be kicking yourself as hard as you can right now. Did you really just say that?! Of all the things to say to Fluttershy, you said THAT?!

"Nervous?" Fluttershy raises an eyebrow. "What's going on?"

"Oh, you know..." You laugh nervously. "Tryouts for the swim team are today, and I was thinking of giving it a shot, you know?"

It takes a couple of seconds, but Fluttershy's face goes from a look of awkward confusion to happiness.

"Oh yeah, I totally forgot!" She exclaims. "Wow, that's really cool you're trying to do something like that!"

"Yeah, I've been trying really hard to get in shape recently." You say. "It's tough."

"I know, I saw you started going to The Forge." She smiles. You try your hardest not to cringe as you hear those words come out of her mouth. "That's really cool!"

Before you can go in and go for the line though, you hear the bell ring and from the look of it, Fluttershy also looked like she wanted to say a couple things as well.

"You know, I really admire people who go out of their way to try and make themselves better." She says. "I promise I'll be there after school to cheer you on."

"Thanks." You wave to Fluttershy as she leaves. "I'll do my best."

As she turns the corner, you walk to your next class with a warm, powerful feeling in your stomach. A sensation that makes you feel as if you could take on the whole world right now. A feeling that felt strangely familiar to the first time you met Applejack and fell for her. But this time it's different. It feels almost as if you can't go wrong this time, that you can't lose. With this surge of confidence, you subconsciously start to take longer, bolder strides as you walk down the hallway to your next class. On your way there, you see Shining Armor looking very amused.

"You don't even know how to swim, do you Anon?"

"Nope." You shake your head. "I can't back out though, right?"

"You've got balls, Anon I'll give you that." He chuckles, before lightly punching you on the shoulder. "We'll see what I can do for you, bud."

Author's Note

Holy hay, it's been almost a year since I updated this. I'd make some excuse about me being busy with school and work, but it would be a constellation at this point. I'm just a lazy POS and I'm sorry for keeping you guys from waiting.

Diver

"...And when you're reaching the end of the pool, you gotta do a flip turn, and kick off the side of the pool like this." Shining Armor explains, motioning his hand over his head in a weird, sweeping form. "You're probably gonna get water up your nose since it's your first time doing it, but don't worry, you only gotta do it three times."

"Wait, what?!" You exclaim. "Three?"

You signed up for the 100 meter freestyle, didn't you?" He asks. "That's twice back and forth across the pool!"

You remember when your dad tried giving you swimming lessons when you were a kid; you were always the one who'd go full panic mode as soon as the water's too deep for you to stand on your toes. Well, what better time to face your fears than now? Besides, it's just a tryout. Half the people are probably going to be just as clueless as you are, right?

Only that Fluttershy's watching...Yeah, no pressure at all.

"By the way, you'll need these." He tosses you a blue piece of fabric. Upon catching it, you notice it's a speedo with the Canterlot High logo printed dead center on your butt. "You're a medium, right?"

"No." You say firmly. "There's no way I'm wearing this thing in front of a whole crowd of people, let alone Fluttershy."

"Come on, you're gonna be in the water most of the time anyways." He says encouragingly. "These are guaranteed take off at least two seconds on your time compared to regular swim trunks!"

"You know how ridiculous I'm gonna look in this?" You point at the speedo. "I'll might as well be fucking naked!"

"Well if you plan on getting naked with Fluttershy anytime soon, it won't hurt to give her a sneak peek." He grins.

"Shut up." You snap. You feel your face burning up as you glare at a snicking Shining Armor.

You look at your phone to see you still have fifteen minutes before the tryouts begin. You'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous...You've never really been into sports at all, so this would be your first "real" sporting event. As you scroll through your phone, you check Facebook one last time, and see that Applejack updated her profile picture; it's a picture of her in a form fitting, deep emerald satin dress that you can only guess is what she's going to be wearing to the Fall Formal. She looks absolutely stunning, and it takes you two seconds before you realize that you've probably been staring a little too long.

'Would it be awkward if I liked her picture?' You think to yourself, as you go through all the comments. 'I mean...its not like I broke up with her or something; all I did was ask her out...'

"Rarity picked out that dress, what do you think?" Shining points out, causing you to jump a little. You look at him awkwardly, and he returns with a confused look, before staring at the ground, avoiding eye contact with you. "Oh yeah, I forgot......she rejected you, right?"

"Yeah." You nod weakly. "It happens though, right?"

"I know, it sucks." He replies, taking a seat next to you. "I bet you low key kinda hate me, don't you? Stealing away the girl you liked?" You look at him in the eye for a moment, before looking back down at your phone.

"How do you do it?" You ask.

"Do what?"

"You know..." You reply. "...Get girls to like you?"

Shining Armor opens his mouth to talk for a moment, but hesitates. You can tell he's trying to be very careful with the next couple words he's about to say.

"You just go for it." He says simply. "Plain and simple."

"What?" You raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean just 'go for it'?"

"'Go for it' as in you walk up to a girl you like, and just ask." He replies. "How many girls you think I asked to go to the dance with me before I got Applejack to say yes? Take a guess."

"Zero." You say with confidence. Let's be honest; what girl wouldn't want to date a guy like Shining Armor? He's tall, he's got abs that can shatter rocks, he's a confident, natural born leader and a captain of the swim team.

"Four." He reveals. "First I asked Rarity, then Sunset Shimmer, Rainbow Dash, and Lightning Dust; they all said no."

"What?!" You exclaim. "No fucking way!"

"What makes you think I'm lying?" He asks.

"Y-y-you're Shining Armor!" You stammer.

"So?" He shrugs. "You make it sound like I'm the pope or something."

"The more girls you ask out, the higher chances one of them will finally say yes." He explains. "If you try out ten different shirts instead of two, you've got a way higher chance of liking one of 'em, right? Same logic."

'No fucking way' You think to yourself as you look at him in bewilderment. 'No way...there has to be some kinda trick, a way you gotta act, a way you dress, smile...something.'

Your look back down to your phone, back to Applejack's bright radiant smile, your subconscious desperately searching for some excuse for why things didn't work out but it can't. With a heavy sigh, you get out of Facebook and see it's about time for the tryouts to begin. Freshmen start first and then sophomores, meaning you...

Now that you remember, you didn't actually sign up with Coach Iron Will, and tell him that you're trying out; you could sneak away and nobody would notice...

"You just do it." Shining Armor says. "Just like the way you're going into these tryouts."

You turn to your left, and see a mirror, with your reflection staring intensely back at you. You need to squint to see it, but there's a small, kindling fire in those eyes, daring you to do what you need to do. You slowly rise from your seat, with the speedos still in hand, and take a deep, long sigh.

"Hey Shining..." You ask. "Which side is the front?"

******

You can feel the goosebumps rising from every inch your entire body as you awkwardly walk to the other side of the pool. Just as you expected, the speedo makes you feel as if you're practically naked, and you've never really had a beach body to boast about either. It also doesn't help that the pool room is freezing; you can't imagine how much worse it'll be when you actually get in the pool. At the bleachers you can see three completely full rows of parents of people you know, and even a couple teachers. No sign of Fluttershy though.

"Alright, 100 free this way." You hear Coach Iron Will's voice booming across the pool. "Come on, 100 free this lane."

As you walk down the pool shivering, you spot a group of guys that all look like carving of Greek statues, with Shining Armor in the middle of them all cracking jokes and talking about something. You can only assume those are the varsity guys. You shift awkwardly through the line of tryouts until you finally come face to face with Coach Iron Will. All six feet and eight inches of him sitting on a stool hunched over with a clipboard and pen in his hand. The stool wobbles and struggles to keep his weight as he hands you the clipboard.

"Sign your name and year here." He says in a bored, monotone voice.

"Thanks." You mutter, before signing your name and year.

As Iron Will mumbles a brief thank you, you see him squint on the clipboard before looking up from it and staring back at you.

"...Anon?" He asks, a look of bewilderment on his face.

"Yeah coach?" You reply. "What, did I not write my name clearly or something?"

"You realize these are tryouts for a spot on the varsity team, don't you?"

You stare at the coach for a second, his rough, bull-like face staring back at you blankly as you realize what you've just done.

'What the fuck!' You think to yourself. 'Shining never told me this!'

"Well, it never hurts to give someone a chance." He shrugs. "We're sorting alphabetically, so you'll be the first one up. Good luck, kid."

"Wait! coach, I think there's a mistake! I was looking to-"

"Not right now, Anon." Coach Iron Will cuts you off. "Lemme tally up all the tryouts first, then I'll come back to you."

You can feel a wave of panic starting to settle into your brain --- You? Varsity? You don't even know how to swim; you can barely do the doggy paddle in a 3 foot kids pool. You don't know what's crazier right now; the shithole you dug yourself into or the fact that you somehow convinced yourself you could actually do this. As your brain starts imagining every possible embarrassing outcome that can happen in the next ten minutes, you suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Dang, you already started taking some early laps in the pool?" Shining Armor asks. "You look soaked!"

"No, that's uhhh, I think that's sweat." You say, putting a hand on your back. "...Wow, that's actually a lot."

"I was talking to her a while ago and I gotta say, I think she actually likes you." He grins, looking back at the bleachers. You follow Shining's gaze and you spot Fluttershy, waving back at you enthusiastically. "Smooth catch, Anon."

"Heh, thanks but I don't know about this, Shining." You laugh nervously. "I think I might sit this one out."

"What? Why?"

"These are varsity tryouts I'm doing, Shining!" You exclaim. "You didn't tell me this was freaking varsity!"

"What do you mean, you didn't know?" Shining says, giving you a confused look. "Canterlot High's swim team is varsity only."

"W-w-why didn't you tell me this Shining?!" You panic. "I don't even know how to swim!"

"I thought you already knew when you were signing up." He looks at you confused.

"Already knew?! I bullshitted that to Fluttershy on the spot!"

"Look though, it's probably not as bad as you think it is; just...try to at least finish the 100 meters." Shining says reassuringly.

"I'll be lucky if I finish." You say hysterically. "I'll be lucky if I don't drown or-"

"For God's sake, can you calm down?!" Shining says as he grabs your shoulders. "Look, I know you're in a tight spot, but panicking isn't gonna get anything done."

Shining Armor goes through one of his pockets, and pulls out a pair of blue and gold swimming goggles. He wipes the lenses with the sleeve of his shirt, and hands it to you. The goggles have the word 'State Champions' boldly written in a deep, royal purple on the band.

"You've got this, man." Shining Armor pats you on the back. "Just remember everything I told you in the locker room, and show Fluttershy what you're made of."

You close your eyes, and take a deep breath and exhale in an attempt to control the feelings of doubt in the back of your head. Just as you open your eyes again, you see a bunch of kids starting to line up at the pool's diving boards.

"You're on lane 1." Shining smiles, as he disappears into the crowd of students.

With a gulp, you slide on Shining Armors' goggles and start shifting through the students to your lane. Just your luck, your lane also happens to be the one closest to the bleachers, giving you a first hand look at all the people watching. You climb awkwardly on the rickety plastic diving board that feels as if you're about to fall off of it, and catch a glimpse of Fluttershy staring at you with eyes full of hope.

'Guess there's no turning back from this.' You think as you get in position to dive into the water.

"On your mark." You hear Iron Will's voice echo through his loudspeaker.

The water below you is churning, glowing with a hostile arctic blue as you still struggle to keep your balance on the diving board that feels like it's about to collapse under your weight any second. You're replaying and trying your hardest to remember all the advice Shining Armor gave you about form, about how to dive into the pool, about how to do the flip turn, and you can feel your muscles tightening and blood rushing to your head as you wait for Coach Iron Will's whistle.

"Get set."

Just before you're about to dive in, you hear a loud splash followed by gasping and screaming from the crowd. You look up in confusion, and see that a man just fell into your lane.

He's not moving either.

A second ago, the pool room was dead silent as everybody waited for the whistle. Now, the entire pool room is a pandemonium of screaming. Without even thinking, like your body acted on instinct, you dive headfirst into the pool. It honestly didn't even feel like you wanted to do it; it was almost like you tripped or something.

The first feeling that your body registers is the freezing temperature of the pool, that's immediately followed by the distinct, all-encompassing sound of your ears filling up with water as you dive beneath the surface of the water. Your first instinct is to paddle up to the surface to get more air, but when you look up, you see the body of a middle-aged man slowly sinking to the bottom of the pool.

'Shit!' You think to yourself. 'I gotta do something!'

But you don't even know how to swim; what if you both end up drowning? But if you don't act, it'll be too late.

With a deep exhale of bubbles, you kick your legs in a squatting motion as hard as you can downwards and begin paddling your legs towards the man. The water almost feels like a force field, making every movement you do twice as hard and the constricting pressure in your head and ears only intensifies the deeper you go down.

It felt like you've spent an eternity underwater, when realistically you've probably only spent a couple seconds, but you finally grab a piece of the man's shirt, and desperately start paddling up. Your own body is starting to crave for oxygen now as you feel your lungs starting to beg for a breath of air. You can't though; you have to hold on. You have to hold on.

You look up, and from the bottom of the pool, you see one of the lifeguards has thrown a bright red float in the pool. You stretch out your other free arm, and start reaching for it. You start paddling your legs even harder, but you can feel it very clearly now; you're running out of air and the man's extra weight is severely slowing you down. If you let him go, you know for sure you can make it to the surface, but you shake your head furiously. There's no way you're doing that.

With one final burst of strength from your legs, you finally reach the surface, and grab onto the raft, and hold onto it like you've never held onto anything else before. Your lungs instinctively suck up as much air as it can possibly hold, only to get some water in your mouth, but you don't care. Your body feels reinvigorated with the new breath of air that you so desperately needed, and you pull up the man with all your strength onto the boat.

The lifeguards, along with Coach Iron Will are heaving the two of you to the edge of the pool where they grab your arms and pull you and the man you just rescued out of the water and another lifeguard pulls the man onto his back, and immediately begins doing what you think is CPR from the looks of it.

"Christ." You cough, pulling off your goggles and trying to get the last bits of water out of your throat. Your hands are shaking, and your knees are wobbly, probably from the adrenaline rush. Your head is also extremely light --- almost on the verge of throwing up as you take a seat on a nearby bench, trying to take in everything that just happened in the last twenty seconds.

"Dude, are you alright?!" Shining Armor runs to you. He immediately takes his towel, and throws it over you. "I saw what happened, holy shit!"

"Yeah..." You nod. "What happened?"

"That guy just suddenly fainted, or a stroke I think." Shining explains. "Then he fell into the pool, and you jumped in after him."

"You saved his life." He says. "You really did."

"I-"

Your conversation is interrupted by a violent coughing sound, causing both of you two to look over. An intense wave a relief washes over you as you see the man you just pulled out of the pool, now fully conscious and being helped up by a lifeguard. The two of you lock eyes for a moment, and as you're about to say something, you hear the sound of someone clapping. More people start joining in, and before you know it, a round of applause fills the room and breaks out into full blown cheering and whistling as everyone around you starts applauding what you've just done.

You look around the crowd, and right in the thick of it is Fluttershy, fervently clapping and cheering your name on.