Novel & Cerita Unable To Weight Bare

It’s probably custom built, hand-forged weights by monks in the mountains or something equally obnoxious. The noises are clear from here, if I just stretch my neck around the corner, I’ll see the source. I want to turn around, walk away before I cross some line. But, I don’t. Curiosity killed the cat, and apparently, it’s coming for me next. I creep forward, peeking around the wall, and… Oh. Thorne Wintermere, in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, bare feet planted firmly on the floor. He’s dead lifting so much weight I can’t even wrap my head around it. The bar bends under the strain, plates stacked to ridiculous proportions.

I cried but the bext moment he had me back in his arms. "See you are so light. Lifting you won't pressurise me." He said amusedly and i wanted to pull all his hairs, but my fingers could not leave his collors. "I..am not light. I am whole 43.2 kgs." I told him seriously and childishly. "And i work out with atleast 100 kgs. I have great stamina." "That's not my problem." "Oh baby, that's an advantage." I looked at him confused and he laughed, shaking his head, before moving to our bedroom.

"This product uses bioelectrical impedance analysis. If the user has severe edema, implanted metal, or is in a pathological condition, the data may be seriously distorted and must not be used as medical evidence." Below was my handwritten remark. "The machine is wrong, Mom. I never lied." Mom held the tiny piece of manual instruction and looked at the unmoving body of her daughter. The girl who once carefully handed her water after work—the innocent child whose eyes lit up at every compliment about her weight despite her gastric ailment—was now dead. I was forever dead. Mom clutched her head as she let out a piercing, broken scream. On my 20th birthday, she had destroyed her most imperfect c

If she could get down to one hundred pounds within a month, she could siphon away the lifetime of luck from her bound target—me—and take everything that was mine: my career, my relationships, my future. But if she dropped below one hundred pounds, the system would backfire. It would force her to absorb the bad luck of everyone around her until it consumed her completely. That's why she used Zach to pressure me down to a hundred pounds. But the system never told her about its fatal flaw—its bug. For every pound I gained, Lauren would lose ten. Yet the system's core command remained: my weight could never fall below one hundred pounds. In this life, I exploited that bug mercilessly and forced

Trailing behind him, I settled on the resting bench, a few meters from the bench press. “Do you have any idea why they would steal your father’s part?” Clinking sounds filled the space as he added more plates to ones on the barbell. “Are you sure you can lift that?” I questioned before chugging water from my medium-sized black water bottle. Benjamin smirked as he added the last plate. “Why not? Besides, I have you here.” He observed the barbell. “I think this is as much as you carry.” A proud smile snatched my lips. “You still need to add more weight. I carry more than that.” My hand rubbed my exposed leg.

Musa looked unusually serious, having traded his denim jacket for dark, water-resistant canvas. "Your legs are dead weight, Baraka," Jabari said bluntly, stepping up to the cot. "If we run into a UN stealth team out there, you won't be able to dodge, and you won't be able to run. You'd be a sitting duck." "Jabari is right," Eliana agreed softly. "If you try to force the Overclock while your fibers are actively regenerating, you will sever your own spinal cord. You are grounded." Baraka looked at his legs, the frustration burning hotter than the physical pain. He was Patient Zero. He was the shield. But a shield that couldn't be lifted was useless.

I might never walk again. CHLOE POV (two months later) "Push Chloe," Susan yells, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to fight against the weight pushing me down. Finally, I straighten and place the bar in the hooks before removing my weight belt. Susan gives me a well-earned high five, and I grab my water bottle. "That's ten pounds over last week's max. Great job," Susan says as she wipes off the bar I just had on top of my shoulders.

My arms were completely useless at this point and there was no way I could possibly swing from bar to bar, but the platform I needed to reach was visible just beyond the end of the monkey bars and I was so close to finishing. I grabbed the first bar and immediately felt my damaged shoulder screaming in protest, but I swung my body forward and released my grip just long enough to catch the next bar with my other hand. The weighted vest was dragging me down and I could feel my grip slipping on every bar, but I kept moving forward through sheer force of will because giving up now after coming so far was simply not an option I was willing to consider.

He said nothing, and continued with his exercise but didn't shift his gaze away from her. "Fuck," Lena muttered silently. "How do I bring this down?" She tried to lift her hand but she couldn't, the barbell was too heavy for her. "Why did I do this to myself, I think this is going to be the death of me." She cried out and gently turned to Darian with her bent spine, her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked like she was going to pass out if someone didn't relieve her of the weight above her head. She couldn't even smash it on the floor.

He nodded. “And when you feel ready, maybe you can even move on to the barbells for heavier weights. Just slowly work your way up; no more than five pounds per week to start, but move at a pace that feels right for you. When the day comes that these dumbbells are too light for you, come to me.” “Could I lift as much as you someday?” I asked. Matt laughed again. “Maybe,” he said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but quickly shut it; I felt my brows furrow. Was there something else that he wasn’t saying?