Daisy (a classic growth story)

[Elmanouche]

Hello everyone,

Been a while since I posted anything, and even more since I posted something finished.
Well, this one isn't yet, but I have my script written and already roughly 17,000 words laid down.

It's a very classic growth story, which I got inspired about when I was playing around in SpicyChat, to which I added inspiration from what I could read from around here and whatnot.

And for the early chapters, here's some info, I use french school system. In France middle school and high school range from 11 to 18 year old.
Classes are ordered that way: 6th grade > 5th > 4th > 3rd, 2nd > 1st > final grade.
It's a minor detail for the story, but at least you know.

I post here first for feedback.

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Intro
   Asaf sat dumbfounded, staring at his girlfriend Daisy as she practiced her poses for the bodybuilding competition scheduled tomorrow. In front of the hotel room mirror, she flexed her breast less pecs proudly, admiring their sheer thickness, the deep pump, and the mind blowing striations rippling beneath her bronzed, tanned skin. She adjusted her stance, making the slabs of muscle bounce and ripple at different angles, each pose a display of raw power and sculpted artistry.
   His mouth hung open as he took in the vision of her broad, mountainous back. Every contraction sent muscles twitching and dancing across her frame, fibers shifting like living steel. In the mirror's reflection, he caught sight of her chest – thick, bulging pecs that swelled with each breath, paired with a perfectly carved eight pack of abdominals rippling in rhythm as she gyrated her wide, rock hard hips. Daisy glanced at him through the mirror and winked, noticing the hefty bulge straining against his pants.
"Like what you see?" she teased.
   Asaf giggled nervously and rose from the bed, walking toward her towering figure, his breath shortening under the sheer dominance of her presence. She felt his tight package press against the corded steel of her glutes, and with a mischievous grin she flexed her biceps. The peaks swelled into thick, veined mountains, each arm measuring an awe inspiring 58 centimeters. Her nipples hardened as his small, weak hands tried in vain to encompass the massive girth of her arms, a throaty moan escaping her lips. She leaned back against him, the dense wall of her back grinding into his soft chest. Hearing his groan only made her flex harder, her traps rising like ridges of stone, her lats flaring wide enough to eclipse him.

"God..." he whispered, his voice trembling, his arousal already near eruption. "To think you were just a fit 64 kg babe six months ago..."
His hands slid over her chest, exploring the thick slabs of her pectorals, his thumb brushing across one stiff nipple.
"...And now I'm a 128 kg musclebound babe," Daisy completed, turning to face him.
Her breathing was heavy with lust, her chest heaving up and down, brushing against his chin with every rise. She smirked, towering over him.
"Your babe."

   With effortless strength, she claimed him, lifting his smaller frame as though he was weighing nothing. Grinding his arousal against her molten core, she pinned him down on the bed, straddling his legs with her massive thighs. The room soon filled with moans and cries of pleasure as they surrendered themselves to carnal abandon.

I
   Asaf Barki was small. His parents were small, and his sister was small. At 160 centimeters, he stood the same height as his father, a family trait that carried through generations. Not only were they short, but frail—lean to the point of being skinny. At barely forty eight kilos, Asaf was thin and undeniably weak. Even lifting groceries could be a challenge, and traveling with heavy luggage was a trial. Yet what he lacked in physical strength, he compensated with sharp wit and intelligence. Thanks to his parents' guidance, he believed deeply that kindness, benevolence, and helping others were the cornerstones of a good life in community.
His gentle demeanor and physical fragility might have made him the perfect target for bullies, but somehow his childhood was spared from most of it. Because his mother's work forced the family to move often, he was constantly adapting to new schools and classmates. Bullies occasionally tried to pick on him, but they quickly lost interest. For one, Asaf wasn't afraid of them—not in the slightest. He knew he'd lose a fight, but he also knew how dangerous it could be if he made it entertaining for them. For another, he was clever, always top of his class, and always willing to help. More than once, bullies who started out as enemies ended up becoming friends.

   At sixteen, Asaf found himself once again in a new school. This time it was a countryside institution where middle school and high school shared the same halls, students ranging from eleven to eighteen years old. On his first day, whispers followed him as he entered his classroom: "What? He's a first grader?!" ... "He's so small!" He ignored them, used to such remarks.
One student paid closer attention – Martin, the school's notorious bully. At eighteen, Martin wasn't particularly large or imposing, but something about Asaf triggered him. At first, Martin's bullying was little more than petty harassment. A shove in the hallway, a cruel nickname muttered under his breath. He would knock Asaf's books to the floor, sneer as the smaller boy bent to pick them up and laugh with his friends. Asaf endured it with quiet resilience, never giving Martin the satisfaction of fear.
But Martin wasn't satisfied. He began waiting outside classrooms, blocking the doorway with his body until Asaf had to squeeze past. In the cafeteria, he tripped him deliberately, sending trays clattering to the ground. He mocked Asaf's intelligence, calling him "teacher's pet" and spreading rumors that he begged for extra credit.
The other students noticed, but most looked away. Some laughed nervously, others pretended not to see. Asaf's reputation as the smartest in class only made him more of a target in Martin's eyes. To Martin, kindness was weakness, and weakness was something to exploit. Just one pair of eyes was frowning at that, patience growing thin.

   By the second month, Martin's harassment had become routine. And one afternoon, Martin cornered Asaf in the corridor.
"Barki, if you want peace, you'll do my homework."
"No," Asaf replied calmly despite the pressure. "I can help you do it, though."
"You don't get it. You do it, or I'll make your life hell." Martin's voice was cold.
"Nope," Asaf answered with bravado – before a fist drilled into his stomach.
Pain exploded through him as he crumpled, clutching his belly. Martin sneered.
"You're not scared, huh?"
He kicked Asaf's stomach, sending him rolling into a fetal position. Another kick smashed into his forearms as he tried to shield himself. Martin hauled him upright, slamming his back against the wall.
"You should be scared. Are you sure you don't want to do my work?"
"I-I won't!" Asaf yelped, just before another punch landed in his gut.

"Hey, why don't you pick on someone your own size?" A feminine voice cut through the tension.
Martin dropped Asaf roughly, who coughed and panted on the floor, and turned toward the newcomer. He laughed.
"Hahaha, gonna let a girl rescue you, shrimp? I don't hit women, but if you don't get the fuck out of here, I will."

   Asaf's vision blurred, but when he looked up, he froze. and that was when a younger student stepped in. She was from 3rd grade. At fourteen, she was already known as a gymnastics prodigy. Asaf didn't know her name, but he couldn't ignore her presence. She wore a tank top and leggings, sweat shimmering across her skin as if fresh from training. Her physique was striking: defined abs, rounded shoulders, powerful legs – like a taller Simone Biles. She stepped forward, her quad bulging beneath the fabric, eyes locked on Martin without a hint of fear.

"Go ahead, hit me," she taunted. "If you can."
Martin swung without hesitation, but his punch never connected. Lola dodged with effortless grace and countered with a strike straight to his stomach. The blow folded him instantly, dropping him to his knees, coughing and gasping for air.
"Now you 'get the fuck out,' Martin," she said coolly. "And don't you dare touch him again – or everyone will know you got beaten by a girl in a single punch. Weakling."
She flexed her entire body for emphasis, radiating dominance. Martin fled without argument, his pride hurt.

The girl turned back, her expression softening as she bent to help Asaf. She steadied him with surprising gentleness, handed him his backpack, and offered a warm smile.
"Are you okay?"
"Y Yes... thank you..." Asaf stammered, still catching his breath.
"Lola," she said simply, introducing herself. "Do you want to report this to the monitor? I saw most of it before I stepped in."
"I'm Asaf. And no, it's fine. If he can't understand he's only hurting himself, let's not make it worse."
Lola tilted her head, puzzled by his calmness, and walked beside him down the corridor.
"You're something. How old are you?"

   Asaf glanced up at her. She stood around 170 centimeters, easily towering over him, and carried at least twenty kilos more – all muscle. Her face was strikingly cute, with sparkling blue eyes, a dark brown ponytail, and fair skin flushed from exertion. Her physique was balanced and powerful: legs that looked carved from stone, a narrow waist, and arms that hinted at strength far beyond her age.
"I'm... I'm sixteen," he admitted, blushing as he gripped his backpack straps tighter.
"Oh my god, you're so small!" she exclaimed, then quickly bit her lip. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I guess I'm rather big for a fourteen year old girl."
"Haha, don't worry, I'm used to it." He glanced at her physique again, unable to hide his admiration. "You look absolutely jacked – in a good way."

Outside the school, she smiled shyly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"Thanks. I train a lot for gymnastics."
"It shows," he said warmly. "Thanks again for helping me. I should be going..." His voice trailed off, reluctant to leave her side.
"Asaf, you're strong too, in your own way. I heard how you stood up to him. So..." She shrugged, looking away for a moment. "What I mean is, you can count on me if you ever need some... big guns." She winked, flexing her lemon sized biceps with playful confidence.
"Wow, haha. I'll remember that, Lola. And if you need help with lessons, I'll be there." He waved goodbye as he walked off.

   On his way home, Asaf replayed Lola's image in his mind – the shape of her muscles, the tone of her abs, the way her strength radiated without arrogance. A stirring sensation grew within him. From that day forward, his admiration for taller women evolved into something more: a preference for muscular women, embodied in the memory of Lola's powerful frame and kind smile.

[Elmanouche]

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[Elmanouche]

II
   Lola and Asaf became friends, but at the end of the year she transferred to another high school with a stronger gymnastics program. Asaf was sad to see her go, though they managed to stay in touch for a couple of years. Eventually, life pulled them apart. After graduating, Asaf entered college, and between the city change, the intensity of his courses, and the whirlwind of new routines, their bond slowly faded.
   By his second year, Asaf was twenty. As always, he was top of his class. To avoid being mistaken for a child, he had grown a thick beard, and his smooth bass voice left no doubt about his age. Yet despite his maturity, he was still a virgin. It wasn't surprising – few girls showed interest in such a frail man.
Until one Friday, a week before Halloween.

   Asaf entered the college cafeteria, tray in hand, lost in thought. A few tables away, two girls were watching him. One of them, Vanessa, 23-year-old and in her final year, was impossible to ignore. She was stunning. Her long, silky blond hair shimmered under the cafeteria lights, framing a flawless face with bright blue eyes and plump, inviting lips. Her fair skin glowed with health, and her body was the kind that turned heads instantly. At 170 cm, she carried herself with confidence: shapely curves, a firm, bouncing ass, and round, gravity defying D cup breasts. Her toned physique betrayed discipline -subtle abs, a narrow waist, and arms sculpted just enough to hint at strength beneath elegance. Even her posture radiated poise, the kind of presence that made people stop mid sentence.
She leaned toward her friend Tess, whispering.
"See the little beard man over there?"
Tess glanced. "Yeah...? And? He looks so small."
"I know, right?"
"So, what about him?"
"Well, you know Jen? She's in his class. She told me he's gentle, hard working, always helping, never condescending – even though he's the smartest she's ever met. His name's Asaf."
"A good guy in a small package. Alright, what else?" Tess asked warily, sensing where this was going.
"Jen also said he has a big dick."
"There we are! And how would she know?"
"Jean said she noticed... an unconventional bulge in his trousers. And it wasn't his phone."
Tess rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, you girls are cock addicts. If Jen wasn't already with Pierre, she'd probably have jumped on him. And you? What are you going to do...?"
But Vanessa wasn't listening anymore. Her blue eyes were fixed on Asaf, studying him, taking in his features. His beard, his quiet demeanor, the way he seemed lost in thought. "If he wasn't so small..." she muttered, then suddenly slapped the table.
"Alright. I'll just ask him out. A simple, innocent date. If it leads to the bedroom, I'll get my answer."
"You've got to be kidding me..." Tess whispered, watching Vanessa rise with effortless confidence and stride toward the unsuspecting young man.

   Asaf was eating, half daydreaming, when his vision was suddenly obscured by toned abs. He blinked, refocused, and looked past the swell of her chest to meet two piercing blue eyes gazing down at him.
"Y Yes?" he asked, startled.
"Are you Asaf?" Her voice was sensual, smooth, sending shivers down his spine.
"I... I am. Who's asking?" he replied, his deep bass voice sending the same shivers back through her.
Vanessa slid gracefully into the seat across from him.
"I'm Vanessa. Nice to meet you."
She extended her hand, nails perfectly manicured.
"Err... nice to meet you too."
He shook her hand slowly, glancing around as if expecting a prank.
"How can I help you?"
She bit her bottom lip, squeezing her arms together just enough to accentuate her chest. But when her eyes met his, she blushed; His brown eyes held no lust, only genuine curiosity and kindness. It was the first time a man had looked at her that way.
"Well..." she hesitated, then asked softly, "Would you accept to go on a date with me?"
"What?" Asaf was startled. "I mean... how do you know me?"
"Jen from your class. She's a friend of mine. She talked a lot about you... and it got me curious."

   Asaf studied her silently. Outrageously sexy, far beyond what he thought possible for someone like him. He noticed Tess watching from a distance, and something told him Vanessa wasn't revealing the whole story. Still...
"So, what do you say?" Vanessa pressed.
"Yes. I'd be happy to go on a date with you." And, true to his ingenuous nature, he added, "That would actually be my first."
Vanessa's heart skipped. The implication of his words, combined with his deep voice, sent a rush through her. Her nipples hardened against the fabric of her skintight crop top. She smiled brightly, regaining composure.
"What? First date, or first time a girl asked you out?" she teased, trying to mask her excitement.
"First date. I mean, I..."
She cut him off with a warm smile. "There's always a first for everything." Inside, she was screaming: He's a fuckin' virgin! YES! She pulled out her phone. "What's your number?"
He gave it, and she called immediately, hanging up as soon as she heard the ring.
"Vanessa Yorke, if you like full names in your contacts."
"Asaf Barki," he replied.
Vanessa stood, winked, "I know.", turned to leave but then leaned closer. "Say... how about we start with a coffee after class? I'm out at 4:30."
"S Sure. I finish at 4. Where to?"
"Great! Meet me at the Don't Come to Study café. Two streets behind campus, know that place? I'll be there around 4:45."
"I don't go out much, so... no, but I'll find it." He lifted his phone slightly. "See you there, Vanessa."
She walked away, her perfect ass filling her jeans, every step deliberate. Asaf watched, finishing his plate with a knot in his stomach. He wondered what kind of trap he had just walked into.

[Elmanouche]

III
   Asaf arrived at 4:40 PM. The café was indeed charming, featuring some intimate nooks, a terrace that was partially enclosed for the season, and, surprisingly, only a handful of customers and students around. He waited patiently at a table; Vanessa arrived exactly ten minutes later. She walked straight to Asaf and sat beside him, smiling warmly.
"Hey again! I'm so glad you came."
"Afraid I'd bail?" He chuckled. "I said I'd come, so here I am, even if I'm still processing why you're interested in me..."
Vanessa felt another shiver run down her spine; his voice was kindling something inside her.
"I'll be honest, you're not the type of guy I usually date, but Jen really speaks highly of you." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "I... I don't know where this will lead, but you are certainly... um, intriguing."
"If you don't mind someone weaker than you, sure! Let's see where this leads!" He smiled back warmly, equally curious. He saw the waitress approaching them. "What would you like to drink?" he asked Vanessa.

   They ordered their coffee and began talking, sharing their interests, parts of their lives, and the mutual struggle of studies. Vanessa discovered Asaf's self-deprecating humor, which made her laugh, along with his deep kindness and empathy. Asaf found out that—along with her beauty—she was a well-grounded, smart woman with a lovely flirty nature.
Before they knew it, it was dinner time, and since they were genuinely enjoying themselves, Vanessa offered to treat him to dinner so they could keep talking.

   It was 11:00 PM when they walked along the streets toward Vanessa's home. They stopped in front of a large residence, Vanessa fidgeting softly with her keys.
"Do you... want to come up for one last drink?"
Asaf knew what that meant. It might have been his first date, but he wasn't an idiot; he'd seen movies. And he suddenly felt a bit worried; she would be his first.
"S-Sure!"
   They entered the building and took the elevator up to the fourth floor. There, she opened a door and led Asaf into her studio apartment. It was a spacious flat: a large living room, a modern kitchen, and a large window panel that opened to a terrace. It was so different from his little dorm room.
"Wow, nice place!" he said.
"Thanks! I'm lucky to have wealthy parents. Please, make yourself comfortable. I'm going to change into something less... restrictive." Vanessa spoke, pulling on her skintight jeans.
   Asaf looked around, visiting the living room before settling onto the large sofa. Nervousness was crawling up his spine. When she came back from the kitchen, he nearly dropped his phone. She was wearing a loose, open shirt, barely concealing her voluptuous breasts and toned abs, and perfectly fitting underwear showcasing the curves of her shapely legs and buttocks. Vanessa walked to the sofa, placing two glasses of whiskey on the coffee table.
"What is it, Asaf? Too revealing?" She teased.
"N-No, I mean, yes, probably?" He was confused.
   He was aroused and scared at the same time, his pants concealing nothing of his growing hard-on. She saw it, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a sip of her glass. He drank from his in turn, feeling the whiskey's warmth gently push his worry aside, and he looked back up at Vanessa, trying to hold her piercing gaze.
Vanessa said nothing, but her hand reached for his crotch to feel his arousal, and her eyes widened in shock, her breathing coming in short rasps, her nipples poking through her shirt provocatively.
"H-Ha... God, okay, Asaf." She gulped down her drink in one go. "I want you so bad right now, but... You're such a nice guy, I must be honest with you."
Asaf was panting, her touch on his cock had sparked electricity in his frail body, arching for more.
"Y-Yes?" Here it comes, he thought – the trap.
"Jen said more about you than just your good looks and kindness... She told me she had guessed you are, well... endowed." Her hand was gently brushing his beard, her thumb resting on his cheekbone. "That is the main reason I wanted to date you."
Asaf looked up at Vanessa, startled.
"Am I? I mean... I never... I'm a virgin. How would I know...?"
He didn't even register that the main reason Vanessa wanted him was for his penis.
"And I am..." Her hand slid inside his pants, fingers curling around his thickness. "...A cock-slut, with years of experience..."
   She unbuttoned his pants and freed his huge shaft. Its twenty-eight centimeter length sprang free, thicker than her wrist. She wrapped her fingers around it, unable to fully circle its girth. "Fuck..." She gasped out before kissing him voraciously.
He wasn't expecting such boldness, and in a reflex, his hands reached for her breasts and ass. He felt her moans against his mouth. Still, he managed to blurt out between kisses:
"W-Wait, I don't have a condom..."
Vanessa kept kissing him and shook her head.
"I have condoms, but none that would fit your monster... I'll just take an after pill."
And she started to strip him out of his clothes in rushed hunger. When he finally rested naked on the sofa, his huge shaft throbbing, attached to a small, frail body, Vanessa drank in the sight.
"Aren't you just adorable."
She panted out, pulling her little garments aside. She straddled his legs and rubbed her slick pussy over his hard length, resuming her kissing. She could feel his hesitation, his fear.
"Don't worry, Asaf, I'll teach you everything I know."
On that, she slowly impaled herself on his shaft, his thickness stretching her vagina open.
"Oh, fuck! You're so..." She panted, "So huge!"
Carefully, she started humping her lush hips while offering her ample breasts to his mouth. Asaf sucked on her stiff nipples.
"Yesss, now use your other hand to massage my other breast," she murmured, slowly increasing the tempo of her thrusts. He executed, following each instruction to the letter.
   Vanessa's body was shimmering with sensual sweat, her voluptuous, toned body trembling as Asaf's dick was buried at the deepest point of her womanhood. Each thrust poked at her cervix, making her see stars, his soft pelvis rubbing perfectly against her clit. She felt him spasm in her vagina, and she came.
"Nngg! Yesss, don't stop... Keep... Mmmph!"
   Asaf grunted, panting, his cock throbbing, about to erupt, but he kept sucking on her nipples, his hand now groping and kneading the plush flesh of her ass. She started gyrating her hips, torturing his length. She clenched her strong thighs around his small chest as another orgasm coursed through her core. "Aaaahh!"
And he came, hard, his balls released their creamy content at the deepest part of her vagina, his body trembling from the sheer pleasure of his first time. "Ahhhh!" He groaned out, his bass voice suddenly a high-pitched moan.

   Asaf remained still, still processing what he had experienced, his cock still throbbing and leaking into her cunt. Vanessa kissed him feverishly and slowly dismounted his monster.
"You are... amazing," she whispered before pulling him close beside her. She rested his head on her breast, patting his head tenderly. "You okay there?"
He blinked and nodded. "Y-Yes! Sorry, I... I was enjoying this feeling, it's..."
"Yes?"
"Unbelievable." He murmured, caressing the curves of her toned arm.
"Hmm, not as much as you are, Asaf. You're a raw diamond, and I intend to polish you, turn you into a jewel. Would you stay the night with me?" She asked seductively. "I may be hungry for more..."
He just nodded and kissed her. Soon their hands were wandering over each other's bodies, seeking pleasure.

   Morning sunrays came through the windows, tickling his eyelids. Asaf stirred softly, feeling something heavy on his belly. He opened his eyes to see a thick, curvy leg wrapped over his tummy, and behind it stood his morning wood. "Okay, maybe I am big," he thought, then brushed the thigh tenderly, from which a soft moan vibrated through.
"Mmm, good morning." Vanessa purred, closing her legs and feeling his hefty hard-on trapped in between her thigh and calf. "Already ready for me?" She giggled.
He blushed. "Um, maybe?" He nested himself into her curves, enjoying her warmth. "Are we... are we a thing now?"
   Somehow, he knew the answer. Vanessa was awesome; he barely knew her but knew she could be trusted and was very lovable. Yet, something told him they weren't meant to be together, she wasn't 'The One'. And as if reading his mind,
"I don't think I am the one you seek, Asaf." She felt a little sting in her heart, and she resumed teasing his big cock with her leg. "But I like you a lot, so how about we become friends with benefits?"
"Friends with benefits?" He asked, genuinely curious, sliding his hands in between her legs to brush her labia. She shivered and let out a moan.
"Mmm, yes." She pressed her womanhood to his hand and squeezed his hefty shaft with her leg. "Friends that indulge themselves in primal sex when the need arises."
Vanessa grabbed his hand, effortlessly pinning his arms above his head, and she straddled his small hips, sliding her wet pussy over her shaft. In a low, lewd moan, she impaled herself on his pole.
"You are... mmph, the best cock I ever had, Asaf. It would be a shame to keep you for myself."

[Elmanouche]

IV
   Asaf essentially became Vanessa's protégé. She invited him to all her parties and hooked up with him every now and then. Their bond deepened into an unshakeable friendship. She introduced him to other women friends, and he soon became the perfect "fuck buddy." Although he was enjoying himself, he also discovered that size doesn't matter—though it sometimes helps. His penis didn't fit inside any of the women he had sex with; with some of them, he couldn't even penetrate because he was too thick. He started wondering if he would ever meet a truly matching partner, someone he could make love with in total abandon, without worrying about pushing too far. He was, after all, mounted like a horse, yet weaker than a schoolgirl; the women felt safe with him because they maintained control. The only minor flaw was that he couldn't manage some of the more physical positions. One of Vanessa's friends, Rhonda—a 22-year-old bodybuilder, 183 cm and 87 kg of powerful muscle—especially enjoyed the size difference and called him frequently.
   At the end of the school year, Vanessa graduated, validating her Master 2, and was due to head back to L.A., where a job was already waiting. Meanwhile, Asaf finished his second year and now had a reputation within women's circles for being a 'good hit.' He kept on this track during his third year, having sex, going to parties, and enjoying the student life to the fullest. He spent his New Year's break with Vanessa, where they fucked like rabbits for four days. Then he came back to college to continue having intercourses with many women. He had regulars, like Rhonda, and was having fun and sharing great moments.
Until he received his third-year exam results; he had barely passed.

   Asaf suddenly realized he could not keep going down this path. He spent the entire summer break catching up on missed lessons and also worked a summer job. He stopped seeing his 'regulars,' stopped going to parties, and focused solely on his studies. However, two years of reckless sex had given him sexual needs he had barely tended to before, and soon his web browser was filled with naughty bookmarks—mostly of muscular women websites—on which he'd "yank to abandon," almost daily. Nevertheless, he was back at the top of the class, and he validated his fourth year with jury felicitations.

   By January, he was 23 years old and in his fifth year; everything was going according to plan for Asaf. He was back from another marvelous weekend with Vanessa and was daydreaming while getting in the queue at the campus cafeteria. He filled his glass with water, envisioning his next solitary session, when he bumped into someone, spilling his glass all over his tray and the person's shirt.
"Oh fuck, I'm sorry," he blurted out, catching his glass and looking up to check on the victim, who was turning around angrily. Then their eyes met.
   The little man shivered; there stood the most beautiful emerald-green eyes he had ever seen. The woman looked back, equally stunned, as if something shifted in her mind to see those gentle and caring eyes looking back at her from such a small man. The woman was beautiful: those green, almond-shaped eyes were framed by smooth, tanned skin; silky blonde hair was held into a bun; and she had high cheekbones and voluptuous pink lips. They kept staring at each other for what seemed an eternity, which lasted just a couple of seconds. Asaf then awkwardly broke the silence.
"I'm really sorry, maybe I can help dry you up." His voice was even smoother than usual.
The tall girl looked down, noticing her wet shirt.
"Oh, um, nah it's fine, it'll dry up." She then smiled back at Asaf – a smile that sent goosebumps all over his slender body. "Thank you for..."
"Everything's fine, Daisy?" said a man's voice, and a big arm came to curl around her waist possessively.
The change in the woman's posture was subtle but didn't go unnoticed by Asaf: the slight crouch of her shoulders, her gaze looking down. He then noticed some worn-off bruises on her arms and another one on her face, hidden by makeup.
"Y-Yes, Bruce, just some spilled water," Daisy answered.
The man turned an angry look at Asaf. He was a brute of nature, easily 190 cm and with a very strong build.
"Couldn't you pay more attention, shrimp?"
Asaf tried to withstand his menacing glare. For the first time, he feared a bully; this one cannot be tamed.
"I-I was daydreaming, I apologized..." he started.
"It's fine, love, just a bit of water," said the girl in a soothing voice.
"Alright," he grunted.
"I'll grab my food and join you," she added.
She then turned around, holding her tray and not taking a second look at Asaf. He was boiling inside. He noticed another blue patch on her other arm as she was about to pay for her tray.
"3319," he simply said.
"Huh?"
"The phone number for victims of domestic violence."
"I'm not..." She looked down at him, puzzled, her eyes trembling with uncertainty. She glanced over the tables to where her man was waiting.
"Or here's mine," Asaf kept on. "555 666 789."
"Don't," Daisy simply said, paying and leaving without another word.
Asaf watched her walk firmly toward her brute boyfriend, and he focused back on his tray and the cashier, paying absentmindedly, a knot tightening in his stomach.

[Elmanouche]

Thanks!
Here's another one.
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V
   Over the next few weeks, he could see the couple at the cafeteria every now and then. And every time, Daisy seemed even more diminutive, slouched, and submissive toward her man, barely lifting her eyes off her tray.
   On a cold February Thursday, Asaf sat at a table, about to eat with some of his classmates, and he noticed Daisy on his left, three tables away. She had a fresh black eye and seemed to be sobbing. Her boyfriend sat down at that moment, angry and slightly blocking Asaf's view. She looked at Bruce and noticed Asaf from the corner of her eyes. The big man started ranting about something, and she looked down at her plate, her hands held tight beneath the table. At that moment, Asaf's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out.
"Help."
   His heart hammered in his chest. He saw the brute stand up from his chair to grab water, and Asaf quickly made signs to Daisy: "I'm watching you." When Bruce came back, he saw Daisy looking somewhere, he tried to look that way, not noticing Asaf, and then snapped angrily at his girlfriend. He pulled her off her chair and started walking through the cafeteria, holding her visibly and painfully by the arm.
"Can you guys take care of my tray? Sorry, gotta go," said Asaf, standing up.
"Huh? You okay?" asked one of his friends.
"Yes, yes, be right back, thanks."
   And he left. Tracking the couple from afar and blessing the gods for making him small; his diminutive stature made his pursuit easier. They entered a student residence, which resembled a motel. He watched them disappear into a flat on the second floor. He called the police, providing the exact address and detailing the domestic violence in progress, asking for an ambulance. Then he climbed the stairs. The door wasn't closed, and he could hear the man yell. He pulled out his phone and started recording the audio while carefully stepping inside. A loud slapping sound followed by the violent crash of splintering wood echoed from the living room. Asaf slipped silently inside.
"You fucking bitch, you'll never learn, huh? I told you many times, you're mine, don't look at anyone, don't text anyone!" He grabbed her phone. "Who the fuck did you send this message to, huh? Bitch!"
   Bruce was towering over Daisy, his hand raised, ready to deliver a vicious blow. Asaf quickly snapped a picture, the shutter sound cutting sharply through the tense silence. Bruce spun around, momentarily paralyzed by shock.
"Me," said Asaf, his voice surprisingly calm.
"Who the fuck are you?! This is trespassing!"
Growled the angry man, who then lunged at Asaf, swiftly lifting him single-handedly and slamming his back against the wall.
   Asaf's back screamed in pain, and he grimaced, but then he saw Daisy, still crawling on the floor. Her face was tumefied, bleeding, her left eye swollen shut. He also registered that this was Daisy's flat, not Bruce's.
"I-I'm a friend! I got invited!" He replied, trying to maintain his composure.
The brute vice-gripped his fist around Asaf's throat, who started to grunt, his weak fists hitting Bruce's rock-solid torso ineffectually.
"A friend, huh?" A brutal punch landed in Asaf's ribs, followed immediately by another to his face.
The small man slumped to the floor, his nose gushing blood. Bruce turned back to Daisy, his eyes ablaze with murderous rage.
"What did I tell you about having male friends?" He was about to hit her again when a male voice barked an order.
"Freeze! Hands up!"
Bruce turned around, staring dumbly at the policemen, blinking from the lights of their torch.
"Don't you fucking..." He started, rushing toward them, and two policemen shot their tasers, sending a convulsive electrical charge through the bull of a man, who dropped and shuddered violently on the floor.
   A policewoman stepped in and rushed to Daisy—who had fallen unconscious—while the other two cuffed the big man.
Asaf sat up, panting, feeling blood in his mouth. An officer crouched nearby.
"Are you okay, young man?" He asked. "I'm Officer Ritcher. Medics will patch you up soon, but then we'll need your statement."
"Y-Yeah... I'll survive." He nodded. "I have proofs on my phone, too." He indicated the phone.
"Keep that for later. Now is not the time."
"How is she?" Asaf asked, watching two emergency doctors place her on a stretcher.

   Four hours later, Asaf was at the police station making his statement: how he suspected the beatings, how he offered help to the woman, up until today when he tried to stop Bruce. They were about to be done when an agent came into the office. He looked down at Asaf before sitting on a free chair.
"The woman has rapidly regained consciousness and has agreed to file a formal complaint. She'll be fine, and she specifically asked to see you," the agent said.
"Me? Okay. And who is she? I only know her first name," Asaf asked.
The agent smiled, "Daisy Connelly. She's at St Paul hospital."
"T-Thanks. If we're done here, I'll be on my way then," said Asaf.

   Asaf arrived at the hospital and asked the receptionist for Daisy Connelly.
"Are you a relative to Ms. Conneclly?" and elderly receptionnist asked, then looked up from her computer. "Oh, a small, bearded man, she's expecting you. Room 202," she smiled.
He took the elevator to the second floor and found her room. He stood in front of the door, listening. Somehow, he felt intensely nervous. He knocked.
"Yes?" Said a weakened female voice.
He stepped inside and showed himself. "That's me."
   Daisy's face was terribly bruised, barely recognizable. Her left eye was swollen shut, and her lower lip was patched with a plaster covering a deep cut. Other wounds were likely hidden beneath her hospital gown.
"Yes, that's you." She smiled, or at least tried, a small tear coursing down from her valid eye.
He extended his hand, "Asaf Barki, by the way, but small beard man works too."
"Hahaha," She laughed, followed by a grimace of pain. "Daisy Connelly." She replied, taking his hand.
"I know, the cops told me. How do you feel?"
"Physically broken," she replied, "but the doctor said I should be out in a couple of days. And mentally..." Her emerald eyes dove deep into his hazel ones. "...Already feeling much better."
Asaf felt her hand tighten its grip on his, drowning himself in her watery eye.
"That's good. If you need anything..."
"Thank you, you already did so much..."
She squeezed his hand with surprising strength.
"Thank you for... saving me."
"No need," he shrugged. "I just did what was right. I just couldn't let him abuse you when I knew what was happening."
She chuckled, a sound that quickly turned into a grimace of pain.
"My small guardian angel." Asaf froze for a split second, and she quickly added, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... diminish you. Quite the opposite. Do you remember when we first met?"
He nodded.
"I remember that look, those beautiful brown and kind eyes seeing through me like an open book. You made me feel vulnerable, but safe at the same time. And when you told me to get help, you suddenly made me confront the torment I was enduring." Daisy paused, her breath catching. "But why? Why did you help me? Why do you care?"
"I despise bullies," Asaf replied calmly, his bass voice reverberating gently in the room, "and I've been bullied quite a lot." He gently brushed her hand. "I'm glad you remember that day. It was one of those rare times I didn't feel small. At that moment, you were the most beautiful woman in the world." He frowned slightly. "When I saw the marks of his beatings on your skin, how you immediately slouched and made yourself smaller when he arrived, it pained me deeply. I had to do something."
"You're truly something," she whispered.
"Haha, not the first time I'm told that. I hope that's good."
"Very good," she purred.
Asaf smiled again and stood up.
"Alright, you should probably rest. We'll have plenty more time to discuss until he faces trial."
"Yes," she replied simply.
She wanted to say she was looking forward to spending more time with Asaf, but a complex mix of guilt, pain, and uncertainty stopped her.
"Oh, almost forgot," he fumbled in his oversized jacket and pulled out a small box. "Didn't know if you were more for flowers or chocolate, so I opted for dark chocolates."
"My favorites," she said, her one visible eye lighting up, seemingly already drooling.
"Enjoy them, and do take care of yourself, Daisy."
"Be well, Asaf."

[Elmanouche]

Great next part, really like the pace your delivery at too, awesome work

Thanks! I may not deliver as fast through the whole story, I just had a bunch of small chapters ready, which just needed proof-read.

[Elmanouche]

VI
   Bruce Rossolini was to be judged in immediate trial. The term immediate here simply meant it was an accelerated procedure. It still took three months to set up a date, but it confirmed that Bruce was guilty as charged; the trial was merely to define his sentence. Meanwhile, Daisy and Asaf spent their time together. He made sure she kept up with her studies to ensure she still graduated. Though they weren't in the same academic field, his supportive presence motivated her. They discovered each other, and both began to develop profound feelings, though neither dared to voice them; the ghost of Bruce still hovered over them.
   The trial itself was a formality. The judge was a relatively aged woman with gray hair, and Bruce did nothing to ease his case, throwing insults at Daisy and Asaf and even pushing his guards around. The judge knocked her gavel sharply.
"Very well, Mr. Rossolini, you are sentenced to five years of prison, shrinkable to three years if you behave," she wrote something on the file, then, without looking up, added, "Next case!"
   Bruce was taken away, throwing angry looks at Daisy and Asaf as they went out of the penal court. Once outside, Daisy took a deep, liberating breath of fresh air.
"And done. Now I can really focus on myself and my future," she said, turning to face the small man, smiling brightly. "I couldn't have done it without you."
He just shrugged it off. "Now that he's behind you, care to join me for a drink? Let's celebrate your freedom."
"Oh, yes please!"

   They found a quaint pub nearby and started with a pint of beer, chatting easily. Daisy mostly vented her residual rage at Bruce while Asaf listened patiently. Drink became dinner, then another drink, and after a good evening, they were walking toward Daisy's flat, laughing about nothing in particular.
"Haha, yeah, I should probably start doing some martial arts or something."
"You totally could! You can do anything, Daisy," said Asaf.
She stood in front of her apartment's door.
"Thank you for today, I had a lovely time, and I hope we can do it again?"
"I would love to. Sleep tight, Daisy." Asaf said, feeling a pinch of disappointment in his stomach as he was about to turn around.
"Wait."
   He felt a sudden pull on his jacket sleeve, and before he knew it, her plump lips were pressed firmly on his, Daisy kissing him in a long, satisfactory sigh. He blinked, instantly responding, and tiptoed, curling his small arms around her thin waist.
   Daisy opened the door, and they tumbled inside, kissing feverishly, hands flailing about to strip each other bare in a hurry. She smiled into the kiss, panting with pent-up frustration and desire. She had wanted this for so long now. They scrambled onto the couch, and Asaf began caressing her tanned skin, planting kisses all over her neck, down to her firm D-cup breasts. Everything Vanessa and his previous girls had taught him came back like erotic muscle memory. He curled his lips on her swollen nipple, pinched the other one with a free hand, and soon she was wriggling in pleasure under his expert touch. He licked down her flat stomach and began sucking on her labia, his tongue darting expertly at her clit, his fingers kneading her curvy flesh.
"Mmmph, God you're... A magician..." She straightened herself. "But I want to see you whole..."
   She unbuttoned his pants, and her eyes widened at the size of his bulge. When she took off his underwear, her breath got cut out completely. His twenty-eight centimeter shaft was rock hard and throbbing.
"I am not small, everywhere," his bass voice nearly whispered.
Daisy looked at him, bewildered, her nipples growing harder, her pussy now leaking with fierce desire. She grabbed his petite hand and walked to her bedroom, then leaned onto the bed, pulling him close for a loving, desperate kiss.
"Fuck me," she simply murmured, spreading her legs wide.
   Asaf smiled, grabbed an XXL condom from his discarded jeans and slipped it on, before poking her entrance with his pussy-breaker. Before going in, he glanced down at her perfect hourglass figure, her thin waist, her ample breasts jiggling sensually as she wriggled beneath him, the thickness of her legs wrapped around his waist.
"You're beautiful," he said, his breath taken away.
Daisy blushed, then her eyes bulged out slightly at the feeling of his shaft invading her vagina. She panted, breathing heavily, fingers clenching on the sheets. "F-Fuck!"
   And Asaf drilled deeper, pushing his slender hips, thrusting his massive dick at the deepest part of her. His own breath grew short as he felt he could keep going, more of his absurd cock sliding inside the slick walls. He fell on her breasts, sucking on her nipple, his small hands laced with hers, and slowly his eyes widened in surprise as she yelped in sheer pleasure. He was balls deep inside her, his huge cock fitting perfectly inside her love tunnel, like they were made for each other. His pelvis rubbed nicely over her clit, and he flexed his little ass and thrusted his dick as hard as he could, and she moaned out in pleasure.
"Yessss! Fuck, your... Your cock is... perfect!"
Asaf felt her vagina spasm, and he started thrusting thoroughly, panting, his own cock leaking pre-ejaculate. "Mmph, geez, Daisy, Nnggg!" He grunted.
   Beneath him, Daisy's eyes were tearing in pleasure; she had lost count of the orgasms she had, some small, some large. Her mind was reeling, feeling this small man pleasuring her like no one ever could. She felt his cock stiffen, his frail body trembled, and she curled her strong, thick legs around his small ass, pushing him to the deepest point, orgasming once more as he came inside.
"Arrrrraahhh...!" He growled out.
   Daisy was a shivering, moaning mess; never had she experienced such intense pleasure – it was her first real, powerful orgasms. Asaf pulled himself out of her, taking out the almost overflowing condom, then he leaned beside her, caressing her smooth, sweaty skin. She shivered, panted, then turned around to kiss him, lovingly, deeply, tears flowing down her cheeks. She broke the kiss and nested herself in his arms, sobbing softly into his neck.
"T-Thank you..."
"I love you, Daisy," whispered Asaf, tenderly, holding her close, keeping her safe.
   Daisy shuddered at the words, and she just melted in his embrace. All those years of pressure, beating, humiliation, and depreciation were washed away by the love and care of that small, gentle, bearded man. She didn't reply – not yet – instead, she kissed him, still crying, worshiping his small frame and hefty cock like her new god.

[Elmanouche]

VII
   Daisy and Asaf diligently built their lives together after graduating. They relentlessly grinded at their respective jobs to establish solid financial security. They married the year after, and using the indemnity settlement from the Bruce case, they purchased a substantial house in a peaceful suburb.
   Asaf did his best to ensure Daisy felt safe, loved, and at ease. Still severely traumatized by her five years of hell with Bruce, however, his love wasn't immediately enough. She felt vulnerable, perpetually scared, and deeply reluctant to go out. She managed to transition to working from home and restricted her trips outside to the bare minimum. It took her two agonizing years to truly settle things with herself and her environment, a process involving lengthy therapy and the unwavering, gentle persistence of Asaf's love.
   That's when Daisy decided she could not remain feeling weak—despite already being naturally stronger than Asaf. She began training rigorously in Jujitsu and Taekwondo. She installed training mats and gears in their basement, dwelling into martial arts like a fish into water. Her progress through the belts was flawless; her body learned and adapted at an astonishing pace. She was so naturally gifted that she only needed to practice complex movements once or twice to achieve masterful execution.
   Concurrently, Daisy launched a social media account on InstaSnap to document her martial arts journey and motivate other women—and men—to improve themselves, to not let toxic people diminish them, and to embrace their hidden strength. Soon, she gathered a significant, loyal community around her, enough that several brands contacted her for endorsements, which she politely declined. One year and a half after she started martial arts, she reached black belts in both disciplines. Her body had transformed naturally and powerfully: from a curvy, sensual sixty-kilo woman with D-cups she had honed herself into a tight, strong, C-cup and sixty-four kilo warrior of functional muscle. Her core was now corded steel, her arms were whipcord-strong, and her already thick legs were now dense, explosive pillars of power, capable of delivering devastating kicks.
   Daisy was acutely aware of Asaf's fetish for muscular women, and she could feel the evidence every time he eagerly groped and fondled her toned abs or firm, round ass. She loved the appreciation, but she wasn't ready to delve into dedicated weightlifting – not yet. Still, she utilized her growing InstaSnap fame to discreetly contact brands and sponsors, taking notes, researching workout schedules, nutrition plans, and trying to understand what the commitment of that path would truly entail.
   Six months later, Daisy was almost ready for the change, but nagging doubts remained about whether she was doing it entirely for herself or primarily for him. She would do anything for Asaf, but since he was clearly happy with the current situation, why risk disrupting their comfortable balance?
The decision was forced upon her when they hosted their New Year's Eve party.

[Elmanouche]

VIII
   The New Year's Eve party was a success, with every invited friend and family member enjoying themselves. There was no drama, despite many of the friends being Asaf's old "fuck buddies." His 'fucking-spree' – as he called it – was five years ago, and many had moved on, finding love and new partners, many of whom came to the party. Daisy had renewed connections with her old friends – lost during her Bruce hell – and they came to the party which was a beautiful and emotional moment for her. They danced, they talked, and at midnight they all cheered and wished a happy new year in a big hug.
All in all, they shared a delicious and fun evening, and in the middle of it, there was Rhonda.
   At the time Asaf was fooling around with various girls, Rhonda was a young, alluring, and sexy 87-kilo bodybuilder. When they last saw her three years prior, she had gained a few kilos, but nothing extraordinary. When she arrived at the party, however, Rhonda was an entirely different story. She had taken bodybuilding to the professional level and was now sporting a staggering 153 kilos of lean, dense, breathtaking mass on her 183 cm frame.
   Rhonda had become a monument of sculpted, feminine power, her muscles flexing and bulging at each subtle movement. It was almost impossible for Asaf not to stare. Her shoulders were immense, three-dimensional caps of granite, her arms were thick, ridged pythons, and her legs possessed the massive sweep and deep separation of a Greek statue.
   Being the gentleman and respectful husband he was, Asaf didn't act on his feelings and kept his desire concealed, but Daisy saw. She saw the raw, unadulterated lust in his eyes when Rhonda showcased her progress to her friends by hitting a back double biceps pose, making her lats muscles flare out like wings and her traps rise into thick, corded cables. Daisy saw his mouth go dry.
   Daisy knew Asaf would never ask her to bulk up; he loved and respected her far too much for that. Yet, she deeply yearned for him to look at her body the way he looked at Rhonda's, to see that same burning lust in his eyes, that same craving to touch those massive muscles lingering in his fingers. So, immediately after the party, she contacted the brands and potential sponsors that were interested in her profile. Quickly enough, she had several deals signed. It didn't even occur to her that it was strange for them to agree so fast on such a massive project.

   On the 4th of January, while Asaf was at work, Daisy received all the scheduled deliveries for her new workout regimen: cable machines, bench press, dumbbells, barbells, protein supplements, and more. The delivery men quickly dropped all the heavy gear in the basement, and two technicians from Barbell & Co came specifically to help set them up. By the end of the afternoon, she was fully ready to work out. She had everything she could ask for – treadmill, benches, cable machines, and tons of free weights. Daisy then posted a story on InstaSnap about her new home gym, complete with several pictures.
Asaf was at his desk when he saw the notification. He checked it out of curiosity and nearly choked on his coffee cup.

"Hello everyone,
I told you guys something big was coming, and here it is: my own gym!"
There was a photo of the basement perfectly transformed into a top-notch, professional-grade gym.
"A big thanks to Barbell & Co for their support,
and to Derril and Thomas who came to build up that gym."
A picture of the two technicians in Barbell & Co shirts building a cable machine followed, along with another showing a mountain of supplements.
"And a big thanks to Supa-Supps! I just need to prepare a setup for live sessions and I'll stream those when appropriate. Today starts my journey into weightlifting. I can't wait to see where it leads me. Until then, Toodles!"
Asaf instinctively liked the publication but remained dumbstruck, his mind racing with the immense implications. He had so many questions, yet he still had two hours of work left.
He had thirty minutes left when another post appeared.
"Hi again,
I did a little workout to try out the devices and get the hang of it.
Here are my base lifts for 5 reps:
Barbell curl: 20 kg
Bench press: 45 kg
Squats: 90 kg
Deadlift: 70 kg
I guess martial arts made me pretty strong already!"

The post was punctuated by a biceps flex emoji, and Asaf felt an immediate stir in his crotch; she could already bench press his bodyweight.

   Asaf was speeding on his drive back home, his heart pounding in his chest. He parked his car in the alley and hurried inside the house. It was quiet except for a focused clanking coming from the basement. He stepped down and saw Daisy doing squats, her leggings clinging to her round, tight butt as she moved. He watched in silence, his heart hammering – she was really doing it. His fantasy was coming true.
"Hey!" said Daisy, putting the 90 kg barbell back on its rack.
He was so awestruck he hadn't even noticed she was finished.
"H-hey," he walked toward her to plant a kiss on her lips. "How did you..."
"Are you mad?" she asked, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes.
"N-no! I mean, why would I be? I'm just... Confused. I thought you didn't want to be, um, big."
"Now I do," and she pressed her lips on his for a long kiss.
He moaned in delight, his hands instantly resting on her toned, pumped and firm ass.
"What changed?"
"Rhonda."
Asaf opened his mouth as if to speak, looked into Daisy's eyes, and closed his mouth, a flush creeping up his cheeks.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to... I love you, Daisy, and I wouldn't-"
"I know. I love you too, Asaf, so much. And I don't blame you; Rhonda has fucking sexy muscles." She giggled, and Asaf chuckled along.
"That she has," he admitted.
"But... That look you had, the lust I saw in your eyes. I want you to look at me that way."
"So, you're doing this for me?" he asked softly.
"Yes, for the most part. But I want it, too. It may take years for me to get as big as Rhonda, but I do want big, strong, bulging muscles, and more importantly, your eyes on me."
At that instant, her belly grumbled loudly in hunger.
"I'll go cook something," said Asaf.
"Alright, I have to take my post-workout shake."
"Post-workout shakes? Damn, you really aren't kidding. Should I change my cooking too?"
"No, at least not yet. I love your cooking so much. Just make more of it, please?"
He nodded, already busying himself in the kitchen.

   Later that evening, while they were eating, Asaf's curiosity resurfaced.
"I'm wondering, though, how could you gather all those devices and gears in such a short time?" he asked.
"Ah, well, I have been thinking about weightlifting for six months already. Since I got my black belts..." Daisy took a bite of her food and, after munching some, continued, "So, I researched it, watched videos. I already know almost everything I need to know about it. I then reached out to the brands that had already contacted me, asking what they could do for me..."
"Okay, and? They just gave you a full gym for free?!" Asaf was bewildered.
Daisy blinked, seemingly only just realizing the enormity of it.
"Y-Yes."
"Wow. I... I know you're starting to have quite the community, but that's worth ten thousand bucks or something, no?"
"They said forty," she blushed, "and about five thousand in supplements."
Asaf's mouth hung open for a couple of seconds. He closed it, took a large bite of food, scratched his head, and finally chuckled.
"Damn, didn't know two hundred fifty k followers could bring that much! I mean, that's great, we couldn't have afforded it."
"I know! And most of my previous deals were only about five hundred to a thousand... I really don't understand how this happened so fast."

The next day, Daisy made a new post on her InstaSnap.

"Good morning, everyone!
Today is the real first day of this muscle-building journey.
I did a little workout yesterday, just to feel the weight.
I was a bit sore waking up, but I suppose that's part of the drill, right?
For better tracking of my progress, here is my starting point."
   There was a photo of her in sport gear, confidently flexing her biceps. There was already significant muscle tone in her body, with noticeable muscled arms and defined abs, thanks to Jujitsu and Taekwondo.
"So, I'm 178 cm for 64 kilos as of this morning. And my measurements are as follows:
Biceps: 32 cm
Forearms: 20 cm
Bust (C-cup): 95 cm
Chest: 90 cm
Waist: 58 cm
Hips: 92 cm
Thighs: 52 cm
Calves: 33 cm
It was quite tedious to measure all of this on my own. I'm not sure next measures will be as thorough if I am on my own again.
Anyway, have a good day and take care of yourselves!"

[Elmanouche]

IX
   Daisy, once again, plunged into weightlifting as naturally as a fish to water. By her second workout, her forms were already impeccable. She had thoroughly researched lifting techniques, nutrition, and recovery protocols in the previous months; therefore, she applied them meticulously, then swiftly adapted them to her own metabolism. While the initial workouts were physically punishing, the acute soreness soon wore off after a couple of days. After that, just a little warm-up was sufficient to get her muscles firing. She quickly developed a habit of lifting heavy, subscribing to the principle that if she could execute more than ten perfect reps on a single set, it was time to increase the poundage.
   Over the next couple of weeks, her progress was staggering; she was able to lift heavier weights and train for longer durations. Her food intake skyrocketed, forcing her to add two extra full meals per day just to keep up with her body's metabolic demand. She also began hosting live workout sessions occasionally, thanks to her neighbor, Yumi. Yumi, a 54-year-old housewife and one of Daisy's early fans, also took Jujitsu lessons in her free time. They had become friends, and Yumi had somehow become a kind of second mother to Daisy. Yumi had her child at a young age, and he was now thirty-year-old living his own life and giving his mother little attention. So, when Daisy asked Yumi for help with her live streams, Yumi accepted immediately, excited by the prospect of watching Daisy's workouts up close. Yumi operated the camera, diligently following Daisy, but also cheered her on and pushed her through the pain when she struggled.
   By the end of January, it was as if her body was actively demanding to work out, craving the burn, the fugitive soreness, and the sheer effort. Daisy immersed herself in it; her physique responded by asking for more and more.

   Daisy had finished a workout with a heavy set of 130 kg squats and had just ended her live stream. She wiped her sweat off and walked to Yumi.
"You really are something, young lady," Yumi said, deftly packing up the camera and streaming devices.
"Well, um, thanks a lot, Yumi. I wouldn't be able to do this without you."
"Don't mention it, sweet Daisy," she replied with a dismissive flick of her hand. "It's a pleasure to watch you train. And it is a powerful motivation for so many people to watch you train, whether it's martial arts or weightlifting." She paused and looked at Daisy's InstaSnap account. "Look, you've already reached five hundred thousand followers!"
"Oh wow, really?" Daisy checked her phone while Yumi was eyeing her up and down. "See? That's why I couldn't do this without you. I need to repay you somehow. How about you come here and use the gym for yourself?"
Yumi shook her head.
"Nah, you don't need to. I might come for the treadmill for some cardio, but Jujitsu is already plenty of sport for me. You are the phenomenon, not me."
"Haha, no, I mean, I'm just me..." Daisy replied shyly.
"You know what is missing in your gym?" Yumi asked, dismissing Daisy's denial for now.
"N-no, what?"
"Mirrors. You need full-length mirrors so you can truly see what a physical specimen you are becoming." Yumi explained, "Look, we took Jujitsu at the same time. Two years later, I just got my first blue belt stripe; you got your black belt six months ago. You learned and mastered those moves and skills faster than anyone else – Master Almeida even told you so; it usually takes years. You got your first black belt stripe recently, while it takes three years for most people."
Yumi looked tenderly at Daisy, who seemed puzzled and squirmed slightly, as if feeling ashamed of her own prowess.
"Listen, Daisy, you have to embrace it. Don't hide behind false modesty or low self-esteem. I understand how you can still feel insecure after what you've been through, but that's why you need mirrors. You need to see for yourself the formidable woman you've become."
Daisy looked down at Yumi – the middle-aged woman wasn't small but looked petite next to Daisy – but didn't say a word, letting Yumi's words sink in.
"Have you weighed yourself yet?" Yumi asked.
"No, I meant to do that tomorrow..."
"Alright then, let's find a mirror and a scale and look at yourself. Really look."

   Ten minutes later – after a necessary protein shake – they were in the bedroom in front of a full-length mirror. A scale was set on the floor.
"Look at yourself. See how your muscles stand out now?" Yumi urged.
Daisy stared at her reflection, turning herself to look from different angles.
"I'm not sure I..."
"Goodness, girl!" Yumi grabbed Daisy's arm. "Flex that biceps! Look at the peak! See how your shoulders have broadened, how your quads are starting to sweep, or the definition in your abs? I mean, your pecs! Really look, can't you see it?"
   Daisy flexed, turned, shook her limbs, engaged her abs. And the more she posed her body in front of the mirror, the more the reality of her physical transformation revealed itself. She saw the density, the striations, the shape, and the subtle throbbing of effort under the skin.
"Wow. I... I see it, Yumi. I don't know what to say."
"Just step on the scale. There is nothing else to say."
She did so and stared down at the number that flickered. Yumi chuckled.
"71.5 kilos! Let's round it down to 71 since you just drank a big shake. So that's what? Seven kilos gain in just three weeks?" Yumi felt Daisy's arm. "And virtually all of it is muscle."
Daisy nodded, then smiled brightly before hugging the smaller woman tenderly.
"Thank you, Yumi. You're right. By next week, there'll be full-length mirrors in the gym."
"Good! Now, I should be going. Richard will be home soon, and I haven't started lunch yet." Yumi giggled. "Call me if you need anything, Daisy."
"Thanks, for everything."
   Yumi once again dismissed her gratitude and walked out, happy with herself. Daisy stayed, looking in the mirror as if discovering who she was for the first time – what she was becoming, and the powerful heights she could still reach. She noticed the thickness of her trapezius, how her deltoids now bulged outward, then a sudden growl from her stomach pulled her out of her reverie.
"Right, gotta feed the beast, hmm?"
She giggled to herself while flashing a triumphant biceps flex before heading down to the kitchen for what was already her third meal of the day.

   After her meal, Daisy posted a profile update on her InstaSnap, showcasing the recent, shocking gains she had made in barely three weeks.

"Hello guys,
Thanks to my friend Yumi – the magical woman behind my workout live sessions – I noticed that maybe I was due for a status update, so here it is.
I gained 7 kilos since my last weigh in, topping at 71 kg!"
She joined a photo of herself, confidently flexing her lemon-sized biceps with a smirk, her blonde hair flowing over her thickening shoulders and tanned skin.
"And here are some updated measures:
Biceps: 36 cm
Forearms: 24 cm
Thighs: 58 cm
Calves: 37 cm
I gained four cm everywhere and 6 on thighs, not too shabby for only 3 weeks, huh?
Sadly, my breasts have shrunk down to a round B cup, but that's for better pecs, no?"
And here she was, flexing her pectorals in an up-close selfie of her cleavage, subtle striations already visible.
"Take care, everyone, and catch you soon!"

   Asaf, at work, didn't miss it. He actually had to take an unplanned restroom break just to relieve some intense, immediate tension. He then watched her previous live stream, mesmerized by the new, impressive bulk that was adorning her frame. His mind ran wild: How fast could she grow? How far would she push it?

   Asaf came back home a bit late, delayed by some work emergencies he had to take care of. The house was quiet, with only the rhythmic sound of metal plates clinging softly from the basement.
"Still working out?" he thought, feeling a thrill run through him.
He stepped down the stairs and, sure enough, there she was, bench pressing a barbell. He stepped closer.
"Hey, love..." she said, her breathing raspy as she counted reps.
"Seven... eight... nine... Nnggg... ten!" She racked the 70 kg barbell, panting.
"Hey..." he replied weakly, his mouth dry. "Didn't you have a full workout this morning?"
Daisy sat up on the bench and smiled, her chest heaving.
"Yeah, but after my nap, I felt so energetic I had to burn it off." She blushed and pumped her pectorals for him. "You like?"
   He instantly placed his small hand on her chest, feeling the warm, granite-like muscle beneath the skin. He just nodded, speechless. She stood up and pulled him close for a kiss, squeezing him in a powerful embrace. He kissed back, grunting, his cock growing instantly hard from feeling her sheer strength. She squeezed her legs together, engulfing his bulge between her newly thickened thighs.
"Hmm, someone's happy to see me," she teased. "Join me in the shower?"
Daisy walked out of his embrace toward the basement exit, making sure to pump and sway her ass and powerful hips sensually. Asaf strutted behind giddily, already pulling his shirt off.

[Sicod]

Thanks for writing this!

[Elmanouche]

X
   By the end of February, Daisy had gained nine more kilograms of dense, hyper-responsive muscle. Her growth was nothing short of extraordinary, and she was now embracing it fully. Full-length mirrors had been installed in her basement gym, and it felt like she was growing on a daily basis. She would often flex in front of them after a workout, watching her muscles bulge and tense, shimmering with sweat.
   Her InstaSnap account had ballooned; she now commanded more than two million followers, and her live training sessions were viewed by thousands of spectators. She was already making more money from the InstaSnap ads and subscriber income than her previous corporate job, which she had since resigned from, giving her ample time to focus entirely on her new passion. She now understood why those brands had been so generous, they had seen her potential.
   They were eating dinner, and Asaf's eyes were seemingly glued to Daisy's every movement, each one a subtle showcase of her recent, explosive growth. Her clothes were starting to strain visibly against her burgeoning musculature; her shirt was skintight around her bulging biceps and the wide sweep of her lats. As if on cue, Daisy said:
"I think I'll ask Yumi to come with me shopping tomorrow. It's getting hard to breathe in these shirts."
She stretched her immense lats muscles for emphasis, causing the seams of her shirt to whine.
"Sounds like an excellent idea, maybe not a whole wardrobe though. I suppose you're not done growing?"
"Hmm, wise advice. I'll just get the strict necessities. Indeed, not done growing!" She flexed a biceps, her shirt sleeve creaking under the sudden volume. "Gotta reach Rhonda's size, heck, Anastacia Valenskaya's size even!"
   Asaf froze. Anastacia Valenskaya was, globally, the strongest and biggest woman in the sport. On her 190 cm frame, she was an absolute beast: about 206 kg of unaltered beef in her off-season shape or when competing in powerlifting contests, or a 170 kg slab of lean, cut mass when on the bodybuilding stage. At 35, she was the reigning champion of the latest Olympia's World Bodybuilding Contest, which was her third in a row, dominating men and women alike. She also placed a formidable second in her first Worlds StrongHuman Challenge, showcasing that her muscles weren't just for looks. She had made it clear that next year, she'd win it all. Never in history had someone won both the Olympia and the WSC in the same year, and Anastacia seemed like the one person capable of pulling it off. She was also the most followed bodybuilding athlete, male or female, on InstaSnap, topping out at 144 million.
"As big as Anastacia...?!?" His voice was dry, a mix of awe and arousal. It also meant something else. "Do you intend to compete in bodybuilding?"
Daisy was munching eagerly, smiling at Asaf's stunned reaction.
"Yes, and powerlifting too. I've done some research, and there is a local bodybuilding competition in two weeks. If I place correctly, I could then enter the state's competition in two months..."
"Which would allow you to enter the pro circuit," Asaf completed, just as Daisy took another large bite.
"Exactly," she said casually.
   He looked at her, profoundly impressed at how only two months of dedicated training had utterly transformed her spirit. Gone was the woman afraid to go out, always diminishing her look and body, and not feeling good enough at anything she did. Before Asaf's eyes, eating enough food for a small family, stood a woman with renewed, fierce confidence, a smile that shone brighter than the sun, and the clear knowledge that she could achieve whatever she wanted and succeed. He stood up and crossed the distance to plant a loving kiss. Daisy blinked and kissed back.
"What was that for?" she blushed, genuinely surprised by the spontaneous affection.
"Call it a surge of love. You've changed so much these past months..." His hands trailed around her thick shoulders, past her steely trapezius muscles. "I guess I am proud to call you my wife, and I don't know, I just felt like kissing you."
Daisy then pulled him close and kissed him again, with more intensity.
"Let me finish my plate, then I'll have you for dessert, my cute, adorable, supportive, and sexy husband." She gave his small ass a gentle, powerful spank, and he laughed, sitting back at his place.

[Elmanouche]

XI
   The world of competitive strength and physique was governed by the I.A.B.S. (International Association of Body and Strength), which encompassed both professional bodybuilding and weightlifting, including the Olympic divisions. A key structural difference was that aside from Fitness competitions, which were traditionally divided by gender, the high-stakes events – bodybuilding, powerlifting, and weightlifting – were all mixed-gender contests. Though these sports remained niche compared to more broadcast-appealing team sports like football or basketball, their market was flourishing, and their elite athletes were globally recognized; Anastacia Valenskaya, for instance, was a multi-millionaire.
   The competitive structure was rigorous, beginning with local, amateur competitions. A podium finish granted access to the state or national competitions, depending on the athlete's federation. Securing first place at the state level was the required gateway to the professional circuits. There were two major global leagues: the Challenger League and The Arnold League – named after Arnold Schwarsteiger, the most famous bodybuilder in the sport's history. New pros automatically entered the Challenger League, accumulating points to climb to the more prestigious Arnold League. Powerlifting operated under the exact same system.
   The two biggest, most watched, and most acclaimed professional championships were the Olympia's Worlds Bodybuilding Championships and the Worlds StrongHuman Challenge (WSC). These premier events did not count toward league points but granted access based on league ranking or by winning specific qualifier contests.

   March 16th – It was Daisy's first local bodybuilding contest. Backstage, the air was thick with bronzer and unfamiliar, acute nerves. Daisy, at 85 kilograms of hyper-defined, lean muscle, felt the pressure of the open category, where she faced much heavier competitors.
"I should have bulked harder," she muttered to Asaf, clad only in her tiny posing bikini.
Asaf, calm and steady, adjusted a strap on her rock-solid shoulder.
"You prioritized conditioning, my love. You are the shredded marvel here," he assured her. "Top three advances you. Show them the quality of the size you have."
   His pride was a tangible anchor. Daisy ran through her pump-up sets. With every movement, her muscles swelled, engorged with blood. Deep, surgical striations etched her physique as Asaf applied the final, metallic sheen of oil.

   When her category was called, Daisy strode onto the stage. Under the blinding lights, her anxiety dissolved into focus. She hit the Front Double Biceps pose. The audience gasped. The lights caught the shocking detail of her physique: her pectoral muscles, thick and tight beneath her bikini top, her arms two perfectly peaked mountains of muscle, and her abs a chiseled block of granite. She commanded the stage with unparalleled balance and razor-sharp definition.
   The comparison round immediately pitted her against Marcus, announced at a colossal 103 kilograms. He was a mountain of mass, visually shadowing her. When the judge called for "Most Muscular," Daisy pressed her hands together, flexing every muscle in her upper body. The contrast was fierce: Marcus displayed overpowering bulk, while Daisy showcased a perfectly sculpted aesthetic. The crowd roared, fueling the duel between size and conditioning.
The final announcement cut through the noise.
"Second place, middleweight class... Daisy Barki!"
   Despite the pang of being defeated by Marcus's sheer weight, a surge of profound triumph hit her. She had placed second on her first try. Asaf met her off stage, wrapping his arms around her rigid, sweaty back.
"You earned it!"
Daisy smiled, exhausted but exhilarated.
"I honestly thought I'd be lucky to hit fifth."
"You presented the best conditioning package of the entire show," Asaf countered, resting his hand on her unyielding bicep. "This is fuel, my love. This journey has only just begun."
Daisy looked back at the lights, the silver medal heavy against her skin. She belonged here. The future was growth.

[Elmanouche]

XII
   By the end of March, Daisy's monthly update on her growth was nothing short of a public statement of her extraordinary transformation. Since she took second place in that local bodybuilding competition, her social media account had been growing exponentially, settling steadily at a formidable 3.5 million followers.

"Hello guys,
Thank you everyone for your unwavering support and kind comments, and a huge welcome to the newcomers in my community. Here is your monthly status update."
Daisy attached a photo of herself, proudly wearing her silver medal and her contest bikini, hitting a powerful Most Muscular pose. Every muscle fiber was at full, striated display.
"Weight: 90 kg (Up 26 kg of lean mass since January 4th!)
Biceps: 45 cm
Forearms: 30 cm
Thighs: 68 cm
Calves: 46 cm
Bust (Pectorals/A-cup): 122 cm
Waist: 68 cm
Hips: 115 cm
I am genuinely speechless. It feels like every day brings more growth, more strength, and an increased capacity to push myself further than I ever imagined. My body is responding to this work in a way that is beyond what any textbook predicts.
Remember, I have registered for the next state Bodybuilding Championship, the NYBC Spring, next month.
I am also thrilled to announce that I have registered for the upcoming New York Powerlifting Championships (NYPC), where I hope to show what my guns are truly made of!
Until next time, take care of yourselves!"

   Thirty minutes after that post went live, Daisy was deep into her workout – no live session this time, as Yumi was visiting her son. Her phone kept vibrating incessantly with notifications. After her overhead press set, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and grabbed her phone.
"Wow, what is going on now?!"
She saw a message from Asaf: "Look at your InstaSnap, now!"
   The wall of notifications was overwhelming. She launched the app and checked the comments on her latest photo. And then she saw it. First, her followers had skyrocketed to 5 million in just thirty minutes. Then, she saw the source: an early comment, time-stamped just minutes after her publication.
"Say what, girl?! How did I not notice you before!
You sure look like a fine growing girl, one that can be a challenge, and I absolutely love a challenge. Get your pro card and join me at Olympia!"
The message was punctuated by the ritual biceps flex emoji, but the account who wrote it made Daisy sit down on the bench, her legs suddenly weak: Anastacia Valenskaya.
   Daisy was a dedicated follower of Anastacia and knew the champion rarely engaged with anyone's posts. It dawned on her how unnatural her rate of growth truly was and how it was now drawing the attention of the sport's ultimate icon. Despite her shock, she managed to write a neutral reply: "Thanks! Training as hard as I can and working toward that pro card!"

   After her workout, Daisy was sipping on a strawberry protein shake, checking InstaSnap. Her account was now at an astounding 7.5 million followers, with hundreds of thousands of new members asking so many questions she felt instantly overwhelmed. She closed the app and turned off notification sounds on her phone, needing a mental break.
   To clear her mind, she went out for groceries after a quick shower. The store wasn't far from their home. She walked there, lost in thought, not noticing the immediate attention she drew; some passersby stared at her obvious bulk and powerful physique, others recognized her from her viral social media presence.
   Daisy arrived at the store and started packing items into her small trolley: chicken breasts, fresh vegetables, whey protein, plus some less necessary comfort items. She turned down an aisle, looking for grated coconut, when she heard a voice.
"Hey, are you Daisy Connelly?"
   Since marrying Asaf, her last name was Barki, but her InstaSnap account predated their union, and she had kept the handle. Daisy stood up and looked at the source of the voice: a man in his thirties, about the same height as Daisy, with a three-day beard. She noticed he was wearing a hoodie with the Valenskaya logo printed on it.
"Yes?"
"Daym, okay. Tell me, what kind of juice you using?"
"Say what?" Daisy was stunned by the sudden vulgarity.
"What's your secret steroid cycle? You gotta be juicing like mad to grow so fast!"
Her pleasant mood vanished. She frowned, twirled her trolley around, and presented its contents to him.
"This," she said, gesturing at the healthy food.
He glanced at the chicken and greens and smirked.
"Yeah, right. Alright, I suppose if you don't wanna tell the truth, a pretty face like you wouldn't mind sharing a selfie, right?" He then suddenly grabbed her wrist with an unnerving possessiveness. "Please."
Daisy stared at his hand, then back up at him, her glare ice cold. She fought to keep her composure, but panic was starting to coil tight in her stomach. She took a deep breath.
"Listen, I suppose you haven't looked at my InstaSnap profile thoroughly, but if you don't want to find out how I got my black belts," she insisted on the plural, her voice dangerously calm, "I highly recommend you to let go of me."
She then deliberately flexed her biceps – his  hand still gripping her wrist – which strained her hoodie's sleeve against the powerful, sudden expansion of muscle.
"Now," she added, firmly.
The man immediately released her wrist, rubbing his hand.
"Alright, alright, no need to be menacing! That was just a friendly gesture," he said, slightly louder now that some nearby customers were eavesdropping.
  But Daisy wasn't listening. She was already leaving, pushing her trolley faster than she intended. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her breathing ragged. She arrived at the cashier and exhaled sharply. She felt sick.
"Good morning, Ma'am," said a young woman.
"Good morning," replied Daisy, her voice strained.
She started placing her groceries onto the conveyor belt.
"Are you okay, Ma'am? I saw that man holding you. If you-"
"No, thanks." Daisy immediately noticed her tone was harsh. "Sorry, I'll be fine. Thank you, Juliet." She looked at the cashier's badge and offered a quick, faint smile.
Juliet scanned the items with practiced efficiency. When she was nearly done, she spoke warmly.
"I finally took up boxing lessons after years of internal debate, thanks to you."
Daisy's eyes and lips trembled, and she nearly dropped her bunch of broccoli.
"I didn't mean to startle you, Ms. Connelly. I've been a follower of yours for two years now, and I just meant to say thank you. You're an incredible role model for many of us."
Daisy blushed deeply. "You... You're welcome." The last item beeped.
"Sixty-seven dollars and fifty-five cents, please."
"By card, please. How's the training going?" Daisy asked while paying, trying to refocus.
"It's tough, but I feel so good after a good workout. Thanks to you, I became a better version of me," Juliet giggled. "I'm still single and a cashier in a grocery store, but at least I feel powerful in my own body."
Daisy giggled along, taking notice of Juliet's straight, confident posture, the subtle thickness in her arms and shoulders, and the deliberate precision of her movements.
"It shows. Keep it up, Juliet."
"Thanks!" she replied happily.
"Excuse me, can you stop the chit-chat, please?" asked an elderly woman from behind.
"Our apologies. Have a good day, Juliet." And Daisy left, feeling a fragile sense of warmth returning.

[Elmanouche]

great story and hope for more

Thanks, more coming soon.