Clarity

[AndrewWrites]

Hi there. I’ve started a little something over the last few hours. I don’t know how long it will be, probably not very long. But I like how it’s coming out. Hope you guys enjoy.

Clarity
“I can’t take it anymore. All I can think about is tonight. Aargh, I feel like ripping this chair apart and throwing it out the window.” Those kinds of thoughts swirled through my mind at the end of every workday, when I could barely hold myself back from flexing out of my clothes out of anger and boredom. All I could think about was that in the night, I would get into my suit and flex to my heart’s content, as I made another woman, or, likely, a man, beg for mercy under my huge body.

I am a bodybuilder, wrestler and one of the strongest women on the planet. Hi, my name is Geena McRough and I wish to welcome you to my TEDTalk.

***

Let me start by telling you a little about my parents. They were . . . not the best kind. In fact, theirs was the kind of relationship you hear about on the news. You know, drunk man beating his wife to within an inch of her life. And this drunk man happened to be a 250 pound former competitive bodybuilder, so, when the beatings came, and they came often, they were serious. Thankfully, he never laid a hand on me. But, as you will see, for his own future safety, maybe he should’ve.

For most of primary school I was the girl nobody talked to. I tried to keep myself invisible, just like I did at home. That way, no one could pick on me. Eventually, I made friends with a nerdy little guy named Thomas, who is actually now my husband. But I’m getting way ahead of myself. The thing is, Thomas was bullied a lot. His father had died from leukemia when he was six and his mother had a hard time juggling two jobs and a baby sister, so, many times, Thomas felt like he was alone in the world. When he discovered the school’s weight room, he immediately wanted to show it to me. We started to work out together. For Thomas, it felt very difficult. He could gain strength, but his limbs remained wiry and lanky. He had real trouble putting on muscle.

For me, the weight room was a revelation. We were 12 at the time. My body responded to the added stress almost immediately. I began to see definition in my arms, my shoulders and my back widened and my core felt strong. Things at home weren’t getting any better. For some reason, instinctually, I felt I should hide my developing body from everyone else, except for Thomas, obviously. So for the next four years I focused on growing bigger and stronger.

One night, returning home from school and, incidentally, right after a workout, I heard shouting. I was accustomed to thinking of shouts and screams as the background music of our home. But the quality of the sound, this time, was different. Something bad was about to happen. As I stepped into the house and peered into the living room, I saw my father standing, tall as a mountain, over the cowering and blood-nosed figure of my mother. I thought, at that moment, that that will never be me. That picture of female weakness was not going to be my future. Without thinking, I darted into the room and put my arm against my father’s forearm. I could feel the muscles writhing beneath his skin, but I held it tight. I surprised myself with having been able to hold him off for so long. Eventually, he pushed me away and turned to go. “So you’re going to be difficult”, he said, before stepping into the shadows.

***

[UnholyDk1103]

Great Start!!!

 

[AndrewWrites]

Another Update. I’m not sure I’ll continue this, due to some personal stuff. Though, if you guys wish to see more, I have a decent idea where I want to take this later.

“I was sixteen at the time. After that episode, my father and I didn’t speak much for a time. For the first time in his life, he had experienced open opposition. But, like a rattlesnake, he bided his time for the right moment to strike.

He contented himself with little jabs and jokes at my expense, whenever he had the chance.

One time, when we were having dinner, I asked mom to hand me a chicken drumstick. “Let her mother enjoy those, Geena. Since you so bravely stopped me from breaking her teeth. She might not get another chance.” And he smiled, his thick mustache draped lazily over that puffy upper lip of his. He was so disgusting I gagged, then pretended to have choked on the food.

Meanwhile, I trained with a newfound intensity. After school, I’d meet with Thomas and we would hit the weights hard. We took the time to browse the library together, borrowing every book on physical development we could. And I grew. I pushed myself harder and harder every day. I spent most of the day at school, from classes between 8 a.m. and 3 p.m. to working out until 8 p.m. most nights. I wanted to minimize the time I spent at home.

Every night, in my room, I inspected myself. Many of the books I’d borrowed mentioned how important keeping a diary is, so I created the habit of noting down every single exercise I performed, the weight I used, as well as the measurements of every body part. I rejoiced in my progress.

My confidence grew along with my body. Sometimes, during P.E., I’d steal glances at the jocks on the Soccer and Football teams. I took pleasure in knowing I was getting bigger and more muscular than all of them. I was very careful about keeping everything a secret, though. It was my business alone.

When we were seventeen, Thomas asked me out. At first, I didn’t know what to think. “Do you even know what you want from me?”, I asked. He told me I was the most beautiful person he had ever met, that since he met me and we started hanging out together his life became amazing. He started standing up to his bullies, he stood up straighter and made himself heard. “And”, he whispered, “I  . . . I love your muscles.”

Until then, I had viewed working out and my increasing muscle mass as a measure of my hard work and increasing confidence. It had not crossed my mind that there could be any beauty or ,well, sexiness involved in what I was creating. That day, we skipped the workout and went to his home, where we kissed for hours. I knew then that, as much as I meant to him, he meant even more to me. If it hadn’t been for him, I would never have discovered my true nature.

***

The year I turned eighteen, I was very busy with my college application. By then, me and dad had stopped talking entirely and I suspected he made my mom’s life hell when I was at school. But he didn’t beat her anymore. For that reason, I didn’t want to stray too far away from home. I applied to several colleges in the same state. I wanted to be able to come home as often as needed.

The morning of the day I was about to leave for college, I was busy packing in my room. I was still wearing my loose-fitting, pink pajama top, whose sleeves clung to my now eighteen inch arms like a second skin. Arms to match my age, right?

When my father slammed the door open, I was lying in bed, staring off into space. He locked the door and came toward me, bulging out of his green polo shirt. I saw him take a step back when I straightened up, my broad shoulders in full view. To his credit, though, his face remained unreadable.

“So, the little bird is finally leaving her nest. We’re gonna miss you. But, don’t worry, me and mum have plenty of experience keeping each other company.”

“Thanks, Dad. Gonna miss you too, but . . .”

“I just thought I’d give you something to remember me by.” He drew back his fist and unleashed a huge right hook to the side of my head. Surprising both of us, my arm shot forth and caught him by the wrist, stopping his movement cold. As I looked at it, I saw the soft sleeve strain to contain the muscles that were working within. My veins were visible under the material, pulsing with life. Dad tried to remove his hand, but I held firmly. It was much easier that I had thought. Suddenly, he head-butted me, sending me down on my ass. I got up quickly, while he lunged at me. I was disoriented from the blow, but, nonetheless, I gripped his shoulders and pushed with all my strength. He couldn’t overcome my resistance. We were in a stalemate. Both of us pushed against each other like angry bulls, our muscles stretching our clothes to the breaking point. Suddenly, my left arm, already pumped from having stopped his punch, tore through the sleeve. It was beautiful. A limb filled with concentrated power. At that moment, I thought it looked bigger than dad’s ever did. I could see slight panic in his deep, dark eyes. “

[ArkhamAsylum]

This story has been realy great so far. I for one would like to see this story continue.

[sevenpeight]

Great writing! Would love to know what happens next!

[sw1ngy]

Best of luck with your personal life

[hatour]

I am sorry hear about you having issues personally. Hopefully you can work them out. This story has been written very well so far. I will be patiently be waiting for it's continuation. Karma for all!

[Wookey]

Great work. Good luck with the other areas

[wowser1016]

This is really a good story and I sure would like to see more.
 

[jhunter]

Take your time in case you can't continue, this is a nice read.

[Sounder9-]

A really fantastic story! I for one can wait for the updates to it, take care.

[Jaguar]

Terrific story so far!


I hope things get better in the rest of your life.  Take care of yourself.