[No Name Yet] 1.1 Stronger than You Look

[Sieming]

=== 1.1 Stronger Than You Look ===

The sun hung low over the fields when Rob stacked the last split log by the shed. His arms ached in that good way. He flexed once, quick, catching the faint line on his bicep. A little bump. Nothing big, but definitely there.

Months of sneaking in push-ups, pull-ups, and sit-ups in the morning, whenever he remembered, were starting to show. Not enough to brag about. His plan was to keep his workouts to himself until someone else noticed.

He wiped his palms on his jeans and grabbed the wheelbarrow handles again, rattling it toward the barn. Dust floated in the warm air, the smell of hay and dirt and old wood drifting out to meet him. Somewhere in the pasture, Cricket snorted, followed closely by Jenny's laughter, sharp and free. Rob looked up just in time to see them vault the fence rail, hair bouncing, legs gripping the mare tightly. Show-off. Saddled in the morning and bareback at night had become her routine.

He smiled despite himself.

Evenings like this were his favorite. The chores nearly done, the air cooling just a touch, chickens getting quiet as they settled in. The light stretched across the field in long, warm lines. No one expected anything from him. For a moment, it was just him, the work, finished for now, and the quiet.

He pushed the empty wheelbarrow into place and leaned against the barn wall, catching his breath. Sweat clung to his shirt, air heavy in his lungs. The punching bag hung from a rafter, waiting. It was as much a fixture as the hayloft, but he'd never seen anyone use it. Not for real.

Rob stepped forward and gave it a couple of quick jabs. His knuckles stung, the bag shifting slightly with each strike. He flexed again, seeing the small muscle shift beneath his skin.

"Not bad," he muttered.

It felt hollow, even to himself.

Not bad? That was all? Defined? Sure, but only because his arms were so thin. A secret bump that only he noticed if the light caught right. The boys his age were all taller, stronger, filling out fast. Some of the girls too.

Melissa's legs looked strong when she'd walked up the porch steps a couple of weeks ago. Rebecca, sitting in front of them in church last week; the curve in her arm had been obvious when she tied her hair. Hard not to notice. Hard to concentrate after that.

Basketball season would be coming soon enough. Rob was fast, sharp on defense. Coach said so. But guys barely scraping five feet didn't make varsity; they warmed the JV bench.. One of these days a growth spurt had to come.

He sighed and started toward the house. Jenny's laugh cut across the pasture again, carrying farther than before. She cleared another fence, no hesitation, and broke into a gallop across the field as she headed back toward the barn.

She'd been growing up a lot lately.

Not long ago, he could have carried half again what she could. Now? She'd catch him in another year or two. Maybe sooner. Not that he minded if it made her happy. Not really. It sure made the chores go quicker when she was helping. And she was helping more and more with chores that used to be his.

Earlier that week, Rob had asked his dad why they were building the outdoor shower. "Isn't the hose good enough?"

His dad didn't look up from the post hole he was digging. "Good enough for you, maybe. But Jenny's helping more this year. You think I'm gonna tell your sister to wash up with a garden hose?"

Rob opened his mouth, then shut it. Definitely not picturing that in his head.

"Anyway," Dad said, nodding toward the stack of cedar planks. "Your mom wants benches, a couple shower heads, a little oasis. Makes more sense than breaking up concrete and plumbing the basement."

Rob frowned at the pile of wood. "Benches? For a shower?"

"It's what she wants. Think of it more as an outdoor spa. It will be nice after hauling hay, you'll see."

Rob raised an eyebrow. "We get to use it too?"

His dad grinned. "I don't see why not." He drove the posthole digger down again, easy and sure. Rob watched for a beat, then went to grab some more posts from the pile.

The next morning, Jenny slipped through the barn door barefoot. Cool grass clung to her feet, the hinges groaning in protest. Inside, the smell of hay and animals and leather wrapped around her like a blanket.

"Morning, girl," she murmured. Cricket lifted her head, soft whicker in reply.

Jenny liked this part best—before the day crowded in, before Rob and some crazy scheme. Before the real chores. Just her and the animals.

She brushed Cricket down, moving quickly, then swung the saddle onto her back. Used to be she needed Rob for that, not anymore. She tugged the cinch snug herself, It creaked a bit, but held firm.

Outside, mist hugged the grass. Jenny nudged Cricket forward. They trotted, then picked up speed, hooves muffled against the ground. At the far fence she didn't hesitate—clicked her tongue, leaned forward. Cricket gathered herself, lifted, cleared.

For a heartbeat, Jenny was flying. No weight. No ground. Only air.

She landed laughing. It sure beat opening gates.

Later, she poured grain into the feeder. The bucket was heavy, but less than before. Chores felt easier now. Buckets didn't slosh as much, tools felt lighter, even after a long day, her arms didn't ache the way they used to. She hadn't meant to get stronger. It just... happened.

She thought back to the night before, when they ended up wrestling on the basement floor. The carpet smelled faintly of dust and popcorn, and she didn't remember who started it. It didn't matter. They had been wrestling for years. Last night it ended when Rob caught her wrists, pushing her back until her shoulders were on the ground.

"Pinned," he grinned, breath warm in her face.

"Not yet," she pushed back hard, her wrists up off the floor. For a second, his grip faltered. His eyes widened a little before he bore down again.

Jenny gritted her teeth and kept pushing. Her shoulders and arms burned with effort, swimmer muscles bent to a new task.

"I'm getting stronger," she said, half teasing, half breathless.

He smirked. "Maybe." But his arms tightened, trying to press her flat again.

She wriggled, arched her back, kept pushing. His grin collapsed into a clenched jaw, then flickered back, shaky now.

"Stronger than you look," he muttered, almost like he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

A moment later, his breath ragged, both of them red-faced, he drove down; her arms held. He rose up, a push-up hovering on her strength, then they sank together to the carpet and the pin.

Jenny couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. "Just as strong as I look."

She remembered something else too. His arms weren't big, but there was a bump there that evening. A curve that hadn't been there before.

She liked it.

She gave Cricket one last pat. Sunlight crept higher, warming the grass. The days would crowd in soon enough. Like her, they were getting harder to pin down.


=== 1.1 Author's note ===
I have a fairly long story planned out, and a good deal of it written already. But I got well ahead of myself, and had to go back to these first chapters and edit them heavily. I might not get the chapters out quickly at first.

This is also my first story, so I could really use some feedback, and not just the positive kind. If you find anything that's hard to read, let me know. Of course, if there's anything you like, let me know that as well, so I can do more of it.

If you have ideas for future chapters, I'd love to hear that as well. Maybe wait until we are a few chapters in to see where we are generally heading before you do that.

This story as conceived right now is a slow simmer. I've always liked stories (many by you guys) where muscle growth seemed at least a little realistic. The current plan is for neither the sister nor brother to be exceptionally mean to each other, at least not intentionally. The cast will expand a bit as the chapters roll out.

[Sieming]

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[taoschild]

Nice start. Maybe a little more character background if you're planning a longer story -- otherwise good stuff.

[Sieming]

Nice start. Maybe a little more character background if you're planning a longer story -- otherwise good stuff.

Thanks. This opening chapter was actually a second attempt. The first one was even worse as far as character development goes. Hopefully these next few chapters flesh things out a bit.

[Sieming]

=== 1.2 Comparisons are Dangerous ===

The dirt road down from the house ended at The Pond. Rob didn't know why they called it that; it was more like a small lake. But Granddad had called it that, and he built the dam, so maybe he had the right. The old dam held the creek back on the far side. Creek water, once it served its time in the pond, slipped out in a steady gurgle over the spillway. A spring bubbled cold somewhere in the middle, making sudden chill patches if you drifted into the wrong spot.

They kicked off shoes and crossed the small beach. The swim out to the dock was refreshing in the summer heat. Mel was the first up the ladder and bounced around on the too-hot boards in a way she hadn't at the start of the summer. "Ouch! Ouch! A little help here, please?"

Jenny joined Rob, splashing water across the boards and over Mel.

Rob climbed the ladder last and settled next to Jenny. The dock heaved once as he sat down, then went back to its slow, wind-inspired rhythm. Jenny had decided on the dock today, but she was just as likely to chose the little beach, the rock ledge, or the rope swing. He didn't care. They were all fine with him.

The pond had always been their place, and when Mel started showing up at the house more often after Madison... well, it just seemed natural to include her too. They could forget about the rest of the world out here.

The girls' conversations always ranged far and wide, but Rob took more of an interest when Jenny tilted her head to Mel and said, "Your legs look different."

"Different good?" Mel stretched one out of the water, still dripping, toes pointed straight.

Jenny grinned. "Yeah. Look at that."

Mel shifted her leg right and left, muscle standing out. "Track season'll do that. And squats. Lots of squats."

"Squats," Rob echoed. "I thought those were just for punishment."

"They're both," Mel agreed.

Rob lifted his own leg, pointed his toe, curious.. "Pretty close, though, right?"

Jenny smirked and reached out to squeeze each of their legs. "Hard. But not nearly as big."

The heat on his face wasn't just from the sun. Rob dropped his foot back to the water with a little splash. Still, Mel took home plenty of 100-yard dash medals last year. She earned her legs.

"Hey, mine weren't like this before track," she said. "Nothing to brag about." Mel continued to twist her foot left and right.

Rob watched her quads move with each shift, then glanced down at Jenny's legs. Nearly the same size as his now. He thought of the last time they wrestled—how much harder it had been to pin her. Rob tried not to think about how fast everyone else was changing, but the thought kept circling. Mel was a year younger, and if she was working out this hard, maybe he needed to work out more too.

Jenny noticed him looking.

"Just comparing," he muttered.

"Comparisons are dangerous," Mel said in a little sing-song voice, still flexing back and forth.

Jenny leaned back on her palms, squinting at the shimmer off the water. "Speaking of things that have gotten bigger over the summer." Rob saw where Jenny was looking and looked away. "Your suit looks about ready to give up, and about to give Rob a heart attack."

Mel glanced down at herself like it was news. "Tell me about it. It fit fine in May when I bought it. Now it's anybody's guess if I'll come out with it whenever I dive in." She grabbed them and set them back into place. One eye on Rob, but he didn't look over.

"Could be worse," Mel continued. "Kara ended the year flat and is coming back with some curves and a whole new set of bras. That's got to be harder. At least the boys already know where I stand."

Jenny laughed. "True. But at least the two of you are moving in the right direction." She gave a little sigh, "This suit has lasted me three years, and I still have the bras I started with."

"Joanie left me bags of her old bras. I've been working my way up the ranks."

Rob stared hard at the water. Heat rose in his face again, different from the sun this time.

Jenny tilted her head, sly. "Maybe a new red one for your birthday."

"One brand-new bra in my life wouldn't hurt," Mel admitted. Then she looked over at Rob, eyes bright, then looked down, "Though at this rate it might not last long."

Jenny's gaze followed Mel's, then swung back to her brother. He was still trying to focus on the pond, jaw set like he hadn't heard a word.

Mel's smile curled wider. "You're awfully quiet over there."

"I—" He floundered, then gave the only safe answer he could think of. "I think I'm supposed to ignore this conversation." This rather fascinating conversation.

Jenny slugged him in the arm. "Good instinct."

—

Mel rolled her eyes at Rob's reply. The truth was she didn't mind when people noticed her body. She worked hard on her legs and was proud of them. She had been doing what her sisters said to increase her bust too, though she thought she might lay off those exercises for the time being. Instead, maybe focus a little more on her backside. The squats were already helping with that, and it would be nice to balance out the front a little more. But talking like that—with Rob sitting right there, pretending the pond water was the most fascinating thing in the world—did get her a little worked up. Maybe now would be a good time for a dip.

She tugged the straps into place again. Time for another gamble.

"It's getting a little hot out here," she said, pushing up to her feet. She didn't wait for a reply—just dove in.

The pond closed over her cool and clean; the spring's cold seam found her ribs and almost made her gasp. It did make her notice that The Twins had slipped out. She tucked them back in on the way to the surface. The Twins. The name was taking on new meaning lately. It used to be her little pet nickname for Jenny and Rob, not that she would ever say it out loud. They were inseparable; Jenny nearly his size now and two years younger. That must be weird for him.

She broke the surface thinking of both sets of twins and her own family. Joanie was mostly away at college. Madison was back in town, but different since the accident. Her parents  too. They tried, but Madison was on their minds a lot. Easier to be with the Wilsons instead. She took a breath and slid under, angling for the ladder.

She surfaced, water streaming down her face, and took the rungs two at a time. She hauled herself up by the top bars and, closing her eyes, shook her hair out hard, spray glittering in the light.

"Wow," Jenny said, as Mel realized it wasn't just her hair shaking. She hoped everything was still in place.

When she opened her eyes Rob had his hands up, his fingers extended at right angles, staring intently... at her face?

Mel grinned. "Jeez, Rob, take a picture."

Jenny's voice came right after, dry as always. "I think that's what he's doing."

Mel laughed and slid down beside Rob.

—

Rob was thinking about the right F-stop and how to recreate the lighting as Mel slid down beside him. The dock shifted under her weight and gently bobbed back to normal. He didn't need to look—her damp shoulder was already close enough to cool his arm.

He'd have to get her a new swimsuit. He appreciated this one. The judges wouldn't. "You can't wear that suit for the shoot—"

Both girls turned on him from opposite directions.

Mel raised an eyebrow. Jenny blinked once, then leaned in, voice flat. "The what now?"

Heat shot up the back of his neck. He made the mistake of glancing over, and Mel was grinning at him like he'd just confessed something. "I didn't mean—" He fumbled, then tried to recover. "I just meant... light. Angles. That kind of thing."

Melissa tilted her head. "Since when do you care about light and angles?"

Rob scratched the back of his neck, wishing the dock would swallow him. "Since the fair. I got third place for that photo of Jenny riding Cricket. I was thinking of using some of my hay-hauling and steer money on a real camera."

Mel rested her chin on her knees, still smiling. "So we're talking photo shoots now?"

Rob groaned. "I didn't say that."

Jenny smirked. "You definitely did."

They lay back on the dock for a while, letting the sun wash over and the dock roll under. Jenny was the first to speak.

"Do you really have enough money to buy a real camera? With lenses and everything?"

"My steer didn't place, but it still sold pretty well, and Dad said I could keep whatever it brought over market." Rob paused. "Montgomery boys pay decent enough. Tom, Don, and Steve each get a bigger share than me because I drive truck."

Mel's head tilted. "Because you're the smallest."

Rob gave a sheepish shrug. "Somebody has to. I help stack in the barn too. I don't just drive."

Jenny was watching him close now. "I could use some money. I could haul hay next summer."

Rob looked at her. She was serious. It almost sounded like a challenge.

"If we need a driver," he said, aiming for a joke but hearing how it landed flat.

Jenny sat up and rolled her shoulders. "I'm getting stronger. I'm one of the best on the swim team. Chores are getting easier too."

Rob's eyes caught on her back as she leaned forward. As broad as his? No, but broader than Mel's and Mel was a year older and six inches taller than her. No defined muscle under her old bikini straps, but she was solid. He thought of wrestling in the basement, and how much harder it was to pin her now. Maybe she was getting stronger.

Yeah. Comparisons were dangerous. He'd have to work harder.


=== 1.2 Author's note ===

Introducing our third and final main character, Melissa. The literal "Girl Next Door" excepting that the next door is about a half mile away (shorter as the crow flies). That reminds me, I have some charts to show how strength and various other physical things develop over time, but I don't actually have a map worked out for where the various scenes are in relationship to each other.

Probably not that big a deal. Feedback is always welcome.

[jcboyd]

Great set up and start.   Of course has me thinking about the girls stumbling across a host of veterinary steroids... I mean tren WAS originally created as an implantable drug to accelerate groiwth and yield in cattle stock. 

[Sieming]

Great set up and start.   Of course has me thinking about the girls stumbling across a host of veterinary steroids... I mean tren WAS originally created as an implantable drug to accelerate groiwth and yield in cattle stock.

That is not a direction that I considered. But I like the way you think.

[Sieming]

=== 1.3 Bareback ===

Jenny wasn't going to miss her evening ride just because a cow was out. Cricket was the best way to cover the fence line anyway. The whole day felt wrong if she didn't swing onto Cricket's back at least once.

Rob was clanking around with an old paint bucket, dropping in pliers, staples, wire, and whatever else he thought they'd need. The new camera bounced against his chest as he leaned over. He took it with him everywhere for the past two weeks. Jenny gave a small shake of her head and pulled the saddle up onto Cricket's back. Rob didn't offer to help anymore, same with the cinch strap. She gave it a good tug, pleased with herself—until it snapped.

She hit the ground in a tangle of saddle leather, the broken strap still in her fist. Cricket snorted at her.

"Are you okay?" Rob asked, lifting the saddle off.

Jenny brushed straw from her jeans and pushed to her feet. "I think so." The broken strap dangling from her hand.

"Well," Rob said, "I guess we'll be walking the fence today."

Like that was an option. Jenny set her jaw, swung onto Cricket bareback in one clean move. "Don't need a saddle. We'll be fine."

Rob started to protest, but she leaned down, hand out. "Come on. We don't have all day."

He passed her the bucket first. She clamped it between her legs, then reached again. With a grunt, she hauled him up behind her. His weight settled against her back, not enough to shift her balance much. Cricket flicked an ear but stood ready. Jenny passed the bucket back and clicked her tongue, guiding Cricket out into the cooling October air.

Once outside Jenny decided that she needed a better grip, and silently handed the bucket back to Rob. Besides, he could always hold on to her. She felt him slide further back and place the bucket between his knees. Then his hands reached out and grabbed her shoulders as Cricket picked up a little speed. She smiled.

There really wouldn't be much to do until they found the break in the fence. Rob's hands were steady on her shoulders now as Cricket carried them down the lane. Occasionally they would slip down to her upper arms. The mare's stride was easy, head bobbing, hooves soft against the dirt. Jenny felt the weight behind her shift once or twice as Rob got comfortable with the bucket. His squeezes didn't always line up with his shifts.

"Where's Mel been hiding lately?" he asked over her shoulder. "Haven't seen her around as much."

Jenny smirked. "She's not hiding. Her squat rack finally showed up. She decided to switch rooms with Joanie so she'd have space for it. We've been moving stuff all week."

Rob gave a low whistle. "A whole squat rack? For her birthday?"

Jenny just nodded, eyes on Cricket's ears flicking at flies. She knew what was coming next.

"Why?" Rob asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. "She's fast. Her legs already look great. Why a squat rack?"

Jenny's mouth went dry. She could tell him the truth—Mel wanting to be ready for track season—or the whole truth. Mel was working her legs, yes. But she also wanted to balance out her still expanding bust line. Jenny glanced down at her own flat chest and then at her thighs gripping Cricket's warm sides. Her legs were at least decent. Not Mel's, but not nothing either.

"Track season," she said finally. "She wants to be as dominant as Tara. Just, you know... on dry land."

There was a pause behind her. Jenny waited, expecting Rob to make some crack about Mel, but instead he muttered, "She's got a killer breaststroke."

Jenny frowned, turning her head slightly. "What?"

"Nothing," Rob said quickly. "I was just... thinking about sports."

Jenny let it go. But why was he thinking about Mel doing the breaststroke? At least Mel wouldn't be able to beat her at that.

She shifted forward a little, pretending to adjust her seat, and Cricket picked up the pace. Rob held on tight.
The lane narrowed as Cricket carried them into the trees and the air cooled where the branches reached over the fence line. Jenny could smell the damp leaves and the occasional faint, sharp bite of pine. The mare slowed on her own, ears flicking at the brush on either side.

"There." Jenny pointed. A dead oak had come down from the neighbor's side, splitting as it fell. The trunk sprawled across the fence, dragging the woven wire half off its posts. One end of barbed wire snapped in the grass.

Jenny slid off first, boots crunching on the leaves. Rob dropped the bucket with a clank and gave the tree an appraising look.

"Not as bad as it could be," he said, though he still frowned.

Jenny pressed her palms against one of the cracked sections. It shifted just enough to tell her they could move it if they worked together. "Grab the other end."

Rob handed her a pair of gloves as he put his on. Good of him to bring a pair for her too. What was she thinking?

They wrestled with it, the wood rough against her gloved hands. Rob braced his feet and heaved; Jenny leaned her shoulder in and shoved. Piece by piece they rolled or dragged it off the wire until the last section tipped free with a thud.

Jenny straightened, brushing bark dust from her arms, breath quick. "See? Not impossible."

Rob grinned, wiping his palms on his jeans. "Good thing it broke apart when it fell."

Jenny snorted but crouched at the fence, pulling the loose wire tight. "We could have handled it. Hand me the staples."

He dug in the bucket and passed her a handful. Jenny set her jaw, lining the woven wire back against the post, and hammered the first staple home. She could feel Rob's eyes on her while she leaned into the work, pulling and setting, pulling and setting, until her arms burned from the strain.

When she finally looked up, he was holding the camera instead of the bucket.

"Seriously?" she said.

He shrugged, one eye still squinting behind the viewfinder. "You look... I don't know. Determined. It was a good shot."

Jenny shook her head but didn't tell him to stop. She turned back to the post, tugging the wire again, her arms trembling, aware of his shutter clicking behind her. Then aware of him working close over her as he spliced the barbed wire back together at the top of the post. She leaned back against his legs.

Rob was still twisting wire when Jenny caught the flick of movement past the trees. She straightened, shading her eyes. "There she is, and she's brought her calf."

"Probably got out going after her calf. That's a good momma."

A rangy Angus cow nosed a the neighbor's grass, the calf at her side. Rob muttered, "Shoot. We should have brought Cricket over to this side before we fixed the fence."

Jenny swung a leg over the post and dropped back into their woods. "No problem."

Before he could say more, she clicked her tongue and urged Cricket forward. The mare surged under her, hooves drumming. Jenny leaned low, the wind pulling at her hair. The fence rushed up fast.

Halfway there she remembered—no saddle. No stirrups. Just her grip and balance. She clenched her thighs hard, heart slamming as Cricket gathered herself.

They cleared the fence in a clean arc, Jenny clutching tight, teeth clenched. On the other side she let out a whoop she hadn't planned.

Somewhere behind her came the faint click of Rob's shutter. She wouldn't mind seeing that one.

Jenny wheeled Cricket wide, circling the cow and calf. She pushed them back toward home, careful not to spook the calf. This was familiar work now—Rob coaxing the cow close along the fence line while she ranged further out making sure the cow didn't make a break for it. That seemed unlikely in this case.

Once the gate was in view, Jenny leaned forward and gave Cricket her head. The mare lunged into a gallop, the sudden burst of speed snapping through Jenny's legs and chest. The wind tore at her shirt as she reached ahead, grabbing handfuls of mane and squeezing tight with her thighs.

Riding bareback was more exciting lately. The first strides always snapped her hips up, dropped them down, set the rhythm deep in her core. Every bump of the mare's back pushed into her, a steady, pulsing drive she had to ride with or be thrown. Her thighs clamped harder around Cricket's sides, the muscles firing fast. She pulled her stomach tight, fighting to stay in balance, but there was no escaping the motion. It rocked through her hips, over and over, relentless. It was not unpleasant.

At the gate Jenny slid off, a little unsteady for a moment, and swung the gate open. Now she just had to wait and catch her breath. The pair balked for a moment, then turned obediently through the gate with a little prodding. Rob's voice carried faintly, encouraging them from behind.

He leaned against the fence, grinning. "Nice work."

Jenny smiled back. "We're a good team."

She led Cricket through, and Rob closed the gate. She swung down into the grass, letting the reins slip through her hands, and dropped onto her back. The cool blades pressed against her skin, grounding her after the rush. Cricket wandered a few steps away, already dropping her head to graze.

Rob dropped down into the grass. The sky above was soft with late light. For a moment neither of them said anything, both listening to the muffled sounds of the cow and calf as they joined their friends.

Rob's head opposite hers in the grass, staring at the wide sky above them, breathes slowly falling back into rhythm. For a while there was only the creak of the gate and the soft rip of Cricket tearing at grass.

Jenny folded an arm under her head, watching a crow circle above the pasture. "What are you wearing to the Halloween party next week?"

Rob turned his face toward her, squinting against the light. "Dunno. Clark Kent?"

Jenny smirked. "To Rachel's Superman?"

He rolled his eyes. "Too tall. We couldn't pass as each other. What about you?"

"Mel's already picking out costumes. I think she wants us to match." Jenny let the thought hang, not sure she liked how they'd look in the same outfit.

The quiet stretched again, easy, until Rob broke it. "We need a better way to carry stuff if we're going to keep riding bareback. That bucket between my knees almost killed me."

Jenny snorted. "You're the passenger. Bucket's your problem."

Rob propped himself on one elbow. "Easy for you to say. You know how to ride bareback. I was one slip away from certain death back there."

"Fine," Jenny said, rolling onto her stomach. "Let's decide."

Rob rolled too, bracing for a wrestling match—only to find Jenny with her elbow planted in the grass, arm up.

"Something new," she said.

He barked a laugh. "Looking for a new way to lose?"

Their hands locked, his palm warm and dry against hers. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. Rob's arm wasn't big, but it was wiry, the kind that showed every line when he strained. She caught the little pop of his bicep and found herself wishing hers would do that too.

She knew he was stronger. She didn't ever feel like she was winning, but he wasn't brushing her aside either. Thirty seconds in and he still hadn't put her down. Her arm didn't look small pushing against his. For once, she could picture herself on the same field.

Then his expression shifted—more serious, like he'd stopped playing. He adjusted his grip, just a little, and she felt the balance slide. Her wrist tilted, knuckles creeping toward the grass no matter how she pushed back. He pressed her down slow, steady, until the back of her hand touched grass.

"Still undefeated," Rob said, but he looked thoughtful.

She laughed and shook out her arm. She hadn't expected to win. But not an easy victory for him either. Not anymore. Not at first. Maybe she should start working out too.

Cricket flicked an ear when Jenny whistled, ambling back toward them. Jenny grabbed the reins and swung up smooth, settling onto the mare's back. Rob held the bucket out, and this time she took it without complaint, gripping it between her knees.

He climbed up behind her, closer now with nothing between them. His legs pressed firm against hers, arms circling her waist instead of grabbing her shoulders.

They moved off at an easy walk, the evening air cooler now, carrying the dry scent of leaves. The bucket knocked lightly against her shins with each step, but she didn't mind. Not with Rob behind her, close enough she could feel the warmth of him through her shirt.

For a while neither of them spoke, the only sounds of the cows, the rhythm of Cricket's hooves, and the quiet weight of his arms around her. Losing wasn't always bad, but she didn't like it.


=== 1.3 Author's note ===

I'm not sure why, but when I originally wrote most of this last week, I didn't have much at all in for their first arm wrestling match. That might be a result of the arm wrestling match itself being a late edition. Like Rob, I was originally thinking this was going to be another one of their ongoing wrestling matches. They weren't going to arm wrestle until chapter 25, and the second time would have been somewhere around chapter 80. But I'm not at all sure if we'll be following those notes now.

Here's the original version of the arm wrestling. Not much to it at all. It's better with the new details, right?

Their hands locked. Jenny pushed, muscles taut in her arm and shoulder. Rob's
arm was leaner, more defined, every line standing out as he strained. She held him
longer than he expected—long enough to make him adjust his grip—but in the end,
he pressed her knuckles gently into the grass.

[jcboyd]

Glad you liked the thought. and FWIW I was NOT suggesting anyone use a tren pellet.... 

But if there were random unused syringes laying about...

[Sieming]

=== 1.4 Like Magnets ===

Tom Montgomery stood on stage with the microphone. Rob knew his voice could carry even without it, sharp and clear, easy in front of the crowd. "Alright, folks, time for the costume contest results. Third place goes to—drum roll please—Kara, our very own black cat. Tail and all."

Scattered applause. Kara blushed from the back, ears askew, and climbed the stage. Maybe she'd like to dance later.

"Second place," Tom continued, "goes to, um, my brother Don. He turned a burlap sack into... a scarecrow? A scare-something, anyway. Remember folks, I'm just the announcer. Talk to the judges. I think we can all agree he's scary." Don bowed deeply, straw fluttering from his cuffs.

Tom straightened, grinning. "And for first place—well, we have a three-way tie: Rachel, Rebecca, and Rob. Superman, Clark Kent, and Jimmy Olsen."

The hall erupted. The Klein twins strode forward; hair darkened and somehow done short. One in tights, cape, and some boy's underwear dyed red. The other in a suit and tie, glasses and a notepad. Rob was pretty sure that he was the only one who could tell them apart in those costumes. He adjusted his tie and camera strap, and waited.

They bounded up to the stage, long legs taking the stairs in strides. Nine, maybe ten inches taller than him, both athletes, either one of them could have been Superman without breaking a sweat. He followed slower, dropping to one knee at center stage in Jimmy Olsen style and raised his camera. The crowd laughed and clapped, Tom handing over the paper certificates and a bag of something.

The Klein girls took the bag between them like a trophy—matching grins. Rob snapped their picture for real, flash popping. He stayed crouched while they waved, happy enough to let them take the spotlight.

When the applause finally broke apart, they stepped down together. "Thanks, Jimmy," Rebecca said, patting his head. Rachel leaned in, grinning. "Best idea ever."

Tom's voice cut in from the stage. "One last thing before we wrap up, folks—the last dance." Half the kids were pretending not to care and the other half were already scanning the room.

Kara stood against the wall, fiddling with her ears again, clearly wishing she could melt through the floor. Rob stepped up before anyone else could. "Dance?"

Her eyes widened, then softened. "Sure."

The music shifted into something slower. Rob led her onto the floor, sliding one hand to her waist. Kara was Jenny's age, but he didn't feel like asking anyone taller to dance. He could feel how stiff she was at first. He gave her a smile and an easy spin. She loosened, even laughed once when he dipped her low enough that her tail brushed the floor.

"Didn't know you could dance," she said as they swayed back into rhythm.

"I studied my part. Jimmy Olsen was a great dancer."

She shook her head but leaned closer, more relaxed now.

Rob kept the steps simple, steady. Out of the corner of his eye he caught flashes of the rest of the floor—Jenny dancing with Steve, both of them grinning, he couldn't tell who was leading. Don was with Mel, his scarecrow sleeves brushing against her glittering dress. They looked... older. More like a real couple than kids at a party.

The music carried them until the song wound down. The lights came up a notch as Tom thanked everyone again from the stage. People started peeling off for the food tables, some heading for the doors. Rob found himself drifting back toward Jenny and Mel near the exit.

They all spilled out into the cool lot in a loose knot, laughter and paper cups and the last of the music leaking out the doors. Rob climbed in the old pickup. Mel reached the passenger side first and slid in. Jenny came around behind her, and hip-checked Mel further onto the bench.

Mel gave her a look. Jenny blinked innocently, tugging the door shut and scooting next to Mel. Rob turned the key. The engine caught with its usual cough. He rested his palm on the shifter, glanced down to make sure he was in first, and noticed Mel's thighs next to his.

Mel shouldered Rob and smiled. "Way to claim the trophies."

"Yeah," Jenny added, "Great idea! Who came up with it?"

Rob slid a look across the bench. "You did."

Jenny frowned. "What? No, I didn't."

"You did," he said, checking his mirror. "I said I was thinking Clark Kent. You said Rebecca could be my Superman."

Mel snorted. "Except she's a head taller than you."

"Exactly," Rob said, flicking the turn signal. "So: Rebecca as Superman, Rachel as Clark. Same height. Same, well, everything."

Jenny leaned back, pleased. "Of course. And you still got to lug your camera around all night."

"Worked out," he said.

They rolled through the gravel and out onto the county road. Mel crossed her legs, sequins on her dress catching stray light from the dash. Rob reached for second and his forearm skimmed the top of her thigh.

"Sorry."

"No worries, Champ," Mel said, and didn't move her leg.

Jenny's voice came from the far side, dry. "Anyway, nice job up there. You three looked great."

"Thanks." He found third, every shift reminding him of Mel's legs, then fourth; engine settling into its hum. The road slid by, dark fields, darker trees. Every time he reached for the shifter, he saw her leg: the round outside of her quad where it met the knee, the way the muscle had that heavy, easy fullness sprinters had. Bigger than his. No question.

He wished he was catching up faster.

"How'd you two land on Gilligan and Ginger?" Rob asked, hoping to get his mind off of Mel's legs.

"We wanted to match," Jenny said.

"But everything we tried turned out... different with these," Mel sat a little taller, making her point. "I could be a slutty nurse, a slutty witch, a slutty teacher,a slutty nun, a slutty ghost, a slutty gunny-sack..."

Jenny laughed. "At some point we decided to lean into it."

"Yeah," Mel said. "It's not looking like I'm going to be able to hide these things, and I don't even think they're done yet. People will just have to get used to them." She tugged at her neckline once, "It didn't help that this bra doesn't really fit anymore."

"Just grab the next rank from the suitcase," Jenny teased.

"Can't," Mel said, grinning back. "I outrank Joanie now."

Rob missed a gear and found it again with a grind. How much bigger could they get? Mel looked down at the shifter, then up at him, eyebrow high.

"I know, right?" she said. "She was always the sexy librarian. What does that make me?"

"In need of a shopping trip," Jenny said.

Rob kept his eyes on the road. "Do you guys ever not talk about boobs?"

"We save it for when you're around," Mel said. "Adds spice."

"Yeah, and I didn't even bring up why I was Gilligan instead of Mary Ann."

He huffed, half a laugh, half a breath. The cab settled again. Fence posts flicked by, regular as a metronome. He drove. The girls traded small talk about who'd spilled punch, who'd danced with who. After a downshift he set his heel and flexed his quad. Still a ways to go.

They turned onto Mel's drive. A few pumpkins still lit, low flames bobbing behind cut eyes. He rolled to the front of her place and put the truck in neutral.

"Thanks for the ride, Olsen. You can use the squat rack too if you want." Mel said, as Jenny slid out. "Good night, Gilligan."

Jenny popped back in. "Night, Ginger."

Rob pulled the truck back into gear, not knowing what to say.

Jenny slid across into Mel's warm spot without being asked. Rob put it in first. They drove. The heater fan ticked. "Are you thinking about working out?"

"Maybe. Basketball season is coming up."

After a minute, Jenny said, not looking at him, "Does it bother you when we talk about our boobs?"

"Not exactly bother," he said. "It's just... when you talk about them, it's hard not to look."

"Well," she said, still watching the window, "I don't think Mel minds if you look, and you don't have to worry about that with me."

He glanced over. Her face gave him nothing—only the reflection of the dash in her eyes.

They turned onto their lane. The gravel up to the farmhouse rose and the porch lights drew them in. He parked by the steps and killed the engine.

On the porch, Dad stepped out with an armful of split wood. "Hey, you two," he called. "Think you can grab the last wheelbarrow and roll it in? Save me a trip."

"Sure," Rob said.

He set his camera on the railing. Jenny tugged her Gilligan cap free, and plopped it on the camera like a cozy. Rob snorted and hopped down off the porch. Gravel shifted under his shoes. Jenny thumped down beside him, matching stride.

"Hey," she said as they cut toward the woodpile. "How'd they decide who was Superman and who was Clark?"

"They armwrestled."

They rounded the shed. The wheelbarrow sat by the pile, mounded full, more than full. Rob grabbed the handles and lifted. It came off the ground with a grunt, but back down again a moment later. Jenny moved in front of him as he shook out his arms, and grabbed the handles too.

"On three," he said.

"On three," she said.

They made it about halfway before Jenny's shoe slipped on a patch of slick leaves. She let out a sharp yelp and stumbled, the wheelbarrow wobbling dangerously on the slope.

"Crap!" Rob barked, muscles straining as the now heavier load tipped.

His arms screamed as the wheelbarrow tilted, weight threatening to jerk the handles out of his grip. No way he should've held it—but somehow he muscled it down to the ground instead of onto Jenny. His pulse hammered, half from the effort, half from shock that he'd actually managed it. He couldn't have done that last month. He couldn't have lifted it without Jenny.

"Holy cow, are you okay?" he said, leaning down over her.

She was sitting in the cold, wet grass, a smear of mud on her cheek and a frown pulling at her mouth.

"Yeah," she muttered.

Rob reached out, and gripped under her knee, then slid his hand down to her ankle, checking like he'd seen his dad do when someone got clipped playing backyard football. Nothing felt wrong. Then his hand gave her calf a squeeze through the damp denim. It felt... solid. Firmer than he'd have guessed. He squeezed again, a little harder.

"You good?" he asked.

Jenny nodded, avoiding his eyes for a moment. "Just slipped."

"Cool." He stood, brushing his hands off on his jeans. Glanced at the wheelbarrow. "Dang. Didn't think I'd be able to set that down without dumping it on you."

Jenny followed his gaze. She looked skeptical as well. They stood there a breath, both looking at the settled wheelbarrow. His hands shook; hers were muddy."

They finished the job without saying much. Rob remembered the way the wheelbarrow felt different with Jenny on it — easier, steadier. The way her calf felt under his hand. He tried not to dwell on it. 

When they finally went upstairs to bed, all Rob said was, "Some Halloween, huh?"

"Some Halloween," Jenny echoed from behind her door. She didn't close it.

=== Interlude: Jenny ===

Jenny lay on her back and watched the fan push slow air around her room. The house had gone quiet in that way it only did after big nights.

Random parts of the night kept sneaking up on her. Which twin had won the armwrestling?  Rebecca as Superman made the most sense—she'd take the win, and the spotlight, just like on the court. But would Rachel have chosen Clark just to be closer to Jimmy?

Who did he root for? He'd never say. He'd set it up so no one lost. That was very him—make a plan where everybody got the thing they wanted and pretend it wasn't a plan.

I guess it made sense that Rob asked Kara to dance the last dance. Kara was the only girl shorter than Rob. At least the only one who fit that dumb "half your age plus seven" rule. If that rule was even real. Jenny snorted into the blanket. The only one apart from her. She was still a little shorter than Rob. Maybe. He danced well.

She wished she knew what had possessed her to slide Mel into him. It felt like pushing two strong magnets closer just to see when they'd click. Then she'd brought up boobs like it was a weather report. She wasn't exactly jealous of Mel. She didn't think she could handle the attention they generated. But a little attention would be nice.

But the wheelbarrow is what she kept coming back to. He needed her help, but when push came to shove, he landed it on his own. Because of me?

She hadn't expected him to be able to land it by himself. That thing was heavy. The way it tilted had felt inevitable. When he'd gotten it down without dumping it on her, she'd been surprised. She hadn't realized how much stronger he'd become—he was stronger than he looked, and she liked that.

And she liked the feel of his hand on her leg. He must have noticed that she was getting stronger too.

As she drifted off to sleep, she had one final thought: He hadn't squeezed Mel's leg.


=== 1.4 Author's note ===

The Halloween party was a late addition to the story. The wheelbarrow scene has been in it from the start, but as the story evolved more and more characters began to creep in. A Halloween party felt like a good way to mention them before they play more of a role later.

So, the title of this thread isn't really accurate. The [No Name Yet] is still fine, but I do have some ideas. But now it just has the title of the first chapter sitting there. On the other hand, I'm not sure you can edit titles, and I don't have any good ideas for an alternative yet.

Speaking of titles, I spend a fair amount of time trying to think of good ones. So far we've had:

1.1 Stronger Than You Look
1.2 Comparisons Are Dangerous
1.3 Bareback
1.4 Like Magnets

The last chapter only settled on "Like Magnets" today. For a long time it was simply "Halloween Party", and it spent a little bit of time as "Twice Your Age Plus Seven". I think I spend time on the chapter titles so I can avoid going on to the next chapter.

[Sieming]

Well crap. I made a mistake and I don't think I can edit my posts. There's a book that Rob keeps that made it's original appearance in chapter 1.8. That was great when chapter 1.8 was 5,200 words into the story. But chapter 1.8 is now closer to 20,000 words into the story, and that seems like a long ways into the story to introduce this reoccurring element. But it fits perfectly into chapter 1.4 (above), so I was going to just add it in. This would appear right before Jenny's Interlude:


=== Chapter 1.4 Like Magnets === (late addition)

Rob couldn't sleep. He flipped on his lamp, propped himself up on one elbow, and reached between his mattresses. His fingers found the familiar, battered cover and pulled out the old notebook. On the front in thick fading marker were the uneven blocky words:

THE BOOK OF CHALLENGES

He smirked. It was a dumb name. He'd written it in fourth grade, when his biggest challenge was hanging from branches without falling into the pond. He'd like to think they were more sophisticated now. "Run a hay crew" and "Make the basketball team" were two recent entries.

He thought about everything that happened that day, and wrote down, "Workout more consistently." Not much of a challenge. He added, "Dance with Rachel" then, before he knew what he was writing, "Have quads like Melissa." He thought about erasing it, but didn't. He didn't fall asleep for a long time. 

[anonymouse]

Wow,I absolutely love slice of life stories on the realistic side, and this scratches an itch

[anonymouse]

Wow,I absolutely love slice of life stories on the realistic side, and this scratches an itch

(Note to self: don't use the quick reply text box...)

I was going to say this scratches an itch that nobody else has touched in ages. 🙂

Also, from your word counts, it sounds like this is shaping up to be a full-blown novel. When can we pre order it? 😝

Jokes aside, your writing is really phenomenal, and I can't believe you've already got so much of the story mapped out. Thanks for releasing it in quick succession!

[Justjeff79]

Great start. I like the slow build. Can't wait to see what comes next

[Sieming]

I was going to say this scratches an itch that nobody else has touched in ages. 🙂

Also, from your word counts, it sounds like this is shaping up to be a full-blown novel. When can we pre order it? 😝

Jokes aside, your writing is really phenomenal, and I can't believe you've already got so much of the story mapped out. Thanks for releasing it in quick succession!

Thanks, and I really mean that. Getting feedback from people definitely means something to me. As far as the writing goes, well, this is the first fiction I have ever "written". If you saw the first drafts of any of this you would definitely say it shows. Yeah, written is definitely in quotes. I had this story in my head, and I found out over the summer that I could use AI to help draw it out. I realize that's a turn off to some people. And if any of you actual authors are reading this, I do not claim to be one of you.

But I do put in quite a bit of work on these chapters. A 2,000 word chapter starts off as about 700 words of scene description, plot points to advance, outlines, and dialogue. Then another 500 words of clarifying prompting to get about 3,000 words of "prose". Then a lot of heavy editing on my part, followed by a few rounds of me asking AI what the 5 worst parts of the chapter are. I do that until it only tells me things that I actually like.

There, I'm glad I got that off my chest. I sincerely hope that nobody actually cares. Forty years ago a writing instructor told me, "Don't get it right; get it written. Then get it right." I'm cheating on the first part.

There are about 140,000 words of the story down right now. Of those, I think the last 36,000 are okay, and now the first 20,000 are okay too (7,000 of which have been posted above). "Fixing" the first chapters has uniformly involved expanding them, so I wouldn't be surprised to see this top out at 150,000+ words.

[BravoBoy]

I really like it so far. Maybe it's just me, but I would like to know their height. Like, not only saying she is 10 inches taller than him, but the exact height. Same with age. Great job though