Bartholomew had, after 4 to 5 business days, or, in other terms, 7 months, received his training equipmentings. And, after many failed attempts of trying, and failing, to lug the heavy work out machines downstairs, and eventually harassing his dad to do it. And now, with all of the equipment set up in his cave of failure, he was ready to set to work. If only he knew what he was doing.
He walked over to the treadmill and looked it up and down.
“Ding diddly doodle! I'm supposed to lift this?!” Bartholomew exclaimed.
Bartholomew went to pick up the treadmill, but try as he all might, he could not lift the treadmill even a quarter of a millimeter off the ground.
He then went over to the pull up bar.
“Methinks….. I'm supposed to lick it, to max out my unimpeachable jawline,” he reasoned.

But, even after what felt like hours of licking, which, even in reality was many, many hours, his jawline had not become any sharper, and had retained its turtle-like shape.
In a last ditch effort, he approached the sacred treasure of any gym. The diamond in the rough. It was, the benchpress. Even among alphas, there was a sort of ranking system. And this ranking, well, it was determined by how much one could bench press. But, even Bartholomew knew that he had to start small.
So, Bartholomew approached the bench, and slid every single weight off of the bar. Bartholomew lowered himself down onto the bench. He lied down and, with shaky hands, grabbed the one pound bar and attempted to lift it out of the spot where it rested.
And, after many minutes of struggling, Bartholomew managed to pick the bar up from where it rested. Only for it to immediately cause his arms to fold. Bartholomew was crushed. Not only emotionally, but physically as well. He struggled under the seemingly light weight of the bar.
After a while of struggling, he managed to simp worm his way out from under the bar. Bartholomew flopped onto the floor.
“It seems that this challenge was more than I expected it to be…” he began anime main character monologuing, in a very typical beta fashion, “it appears, i must use… extreme measures.”
Bartholomew glanced at the book that he had thrown onto the cardboard boxes that he called his bed. He knew what he had to do