All in the Genes
My little sister was born with some sort of superhuman genetic muscle strain of something or other. A whole lot of scientific mumbo jumbo that basically meant she came out of my mother looking like a mini bodybuilder. She literally had a six pack and biceps when she was born. And her heart was apparently bigger and stronger than any the doctors had ever seen. Having a new born baby sister that looked like she could bench press a truck was enough of a surprise, but apparently looks weren't deceiving with her. She was abnormally strong for a baby. She would crush her plastic bottles when feeding, ripped a specially built mobile out of the wall, and even bent the bars on her crib. If that wasn't crazy enough, as time passed, she just kept getting bigger without ever actually working out. She somehow gained muscle from anything she did- even sleeping. There were a number of times where she would wake up to find that she had destroyed her pajamas, by literally growing out of them overnight.
By the fifth grade she was sporting fifteen and a half inch biceps which on her short frame looked positively ginormous. She probably had more muscle than just about her entire class combined. And she was proud of her muscles. She absolutely loved showing off to anyone who wanted to see. She was pretty much stuck wearing no sleeve shirts and really stretchy pants or shorts all year round, since nothing else would fit her constantly growing frame. This made flexing very easy. Ever since she discovered a female bodybuilding magazine at a store, she had studied how to flex properly. And boy could she make her muscles pop. She had some sort of twist your wrist thing, where she could make her bicep peak grow a peak. It was crazy. Mom and Dad weren't sure what to think about my sister. They obviously loved her, but were very worried about her at the same time. Although Casey seemed healthier than anyone on the planet, with doctor physicals to prove it, they still worried that this could come crashing down at any point and they'd risk losing her. Sort of like the growing taller disease- gigantism or something. So they forbid her to work out with weights, fearing this may cause some sort of horrific side effect. Casey was chomping at the bit to use weights- to not only see how truly strong she was, but also to grow bigger even faster. Even though proportionally she probably was as big as a lot of male bodybuilders, she desperately wanted to break the record for male bicep size. She wanted the actual measurements- 30 inches or so. And she wanted to do it before she graduated.
If she just continued the way she was, I'd think she'd make that mark pretty easily anyways. She was bigger than any fifth grader in history. But she came to me one day practically begging me to help her. I'd always supported her even if at that moment I didn't really get the having big muscles thing. I did the occasional sport at school- and used the gym. I was in the middle of the seventh grade basketball season and used the school gym to stay in running shape. She wanted to use the gym as well, but couldn't let my parents know. So we had to come up with some sort of bulletproof excuse. Well, we came up with one where Casey was going to stay after to help me with a science project. It worked because I was actually working on a science project, and Casey, in fact, was very good in science. 100% average good. So we got her into the gym.
"Where should I start?" she asked as we entered the doors of the empty gym. She knew all of the basic exercises by heart, but seemed a little nervous.
"Why not the bench?" I said, as the bench press was closest to us.
"OK!" she ran over and laid down, waiting for me to get behind the bar which looked to have about 155 pounds on it.
"Hold on. Are you sure you want to start here? You are no doubt strong, but it's quite a bit of weight." I said, just to be sure.
"How much is it?" she asked, looking up at me.
"155"
"Let's do it."
I helped hold the bar as she lowered it. Turns out I didn't have to, because she raised it like it was a feather. She did ten reps in blur of steel, before almost throwing the bar back on the rack.
"I need a lot more. It doesn't feel like anything." she said, nonchalantly.
Granted I'd seen her do feats of strength in years past, but I was still a little shocked at how easy she lifted a weight that I'd probably struggle with. We did the same routine for 200, 250, and 300. But it all ended the same. She was just too strong. Finally we ended up loading whatever would fit on the bar, causing it to groan and bend slightly from the 600 pound weight. Now I was a little worried. If this thing fell, my sister would be flattened, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. The basketball coach was in his office, nearby in case we needed anything.
"I think I should get the coach, just in case something happens." Not like it would matter- there's no way the coach could move that bar either.
"No. I want to do it now. I need something heavy." Casey had a determined look on her face.
She didn't even bother waiting for me to guide it down, before she started banging out reps like nobody's business. And then she stood up, still holding the weight! She started hammering out two handed bicep curls, with a growing frustration. She switched to one handed curls, before yelling out and dropping the weight with a earth shaking boom. She turned and left the gym without another word. The coach came running in after hearing and probably feeling the boom. I explained the situation, even though I could tell he didn't quite believe me. Who would believe that a fifth grade girl, even as jacked as she is, could lift a weight that powerlifters would struggle with, like it was a feather? I helped him unload the weights and then went to find Casey who was sitting on the sidewalk outside, fuming.
"Thanks for the help putting back the weights." I said, patting her the shoulder.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I just got frustrated."
"I can see that."
"It's just... I mean, how am I going to get bigger fast enough if I'm too strong to lift anything?" she said, looking down at her arm as she pumped the softball sized mass up and down and her side.
"There's nothing that says you have to do it in a certain amount of time."
"I know. But I want to. I want break the record."
We talked for a while but it was obvious she was dejected. So dejected apparently that she gave up her pursuit working out altogether. She continued to grow but beating the record by graduation seemed unlikely. That was until she entered her last year of high school. I had graduated the year before and was working full time, but still lived at home. Casey and I still got along amazingly, but with me working and her finishing up school while preparing for college, we didn't do as much together as we used to. Then one day, she walked into my room, right up to my desk while I was working on my computer, and dropped a tape measure right in front of me.
"What's this for?" I asked, confused.
"I've decided I'm going to break the record, no matter what it takes. In fact, I'm going to destroy it, before I graduate, and you're going to help me." she said. I had gone back to looking at my computer screen.
"Really. How am I going to help you?" I was admittedly ignoring her a little at the moment because I wanted to finish what I was working on.
"Well first of all, you're going to measure me."
"Hey!" I said as I felt my chair get spun around. I found myself looking right at her bicep.
"Holy crap, Casey!"
I apparently hadn't been paying much attention to her at all these last couple years. I knew she was growing, but the monstrosity flexing in front of me was out of this world.
