#FANfiction: *TV* Lisa Simpson and the Supplements of Doom [Gertos]

[Gertos]

A weird idea I had after watching tonight's episode of the Simpsons, where Dr. Hibbert gives Lisa iron pills way too big to eat (the episode wound up being about Lisa eating bugs and a Steve Carell guest character; kind of a lame episode, to be honest).

This story kinda starts slow, but I think it's pretty fun. Going to include more hardcore muscle growth eventually. Pretty ripped muscle-lady shows up later in the chapter.

Sorry if my writing style is a little too slow-paced, but I'm really just writing this for myself. Hope you guys enjoy it.

Lisa Simpson and the Supplements of Doom
by Gertos
_____________________________________

   Lisa waited nervously in Dr. Hibbert's office, twining her fingers together in her lap. She'd never thought of herself as unhealthy, especially since her father frequently indulged in bacon and donut breakfasts. She shuddered. Vegetarianism at a young age had helped her keep a relatively trim figure as she'd aged. She wasn't the most fit girl in the world—a natural byproduct of her intellectual lifestyle, she thought with pride—but she wasn't overweight.

   That said, she'd been having fainting spells all through her last year of highschool. She thought it was just because of stress, since she'd been working herself crazy making sure she got a scholarship. When she'd finally gotten a full scholarship—she remembered opening the smooth, egg-white paper of the Harvard envelope with world-ending dread—she'd hoped that the fainting spells would stop. In the midst of summer, her eighteenth birthday had come and gone, but the fainting spells stayed with her. So here she was.

   Dr. Hibbert returned to the patient room with a notebook, his familiar face sagging slightly with age and a reasonable layer of fat.

   "Is it anything serious?" Lisa blurted. She didn't want anything to ruin her first year at Harvard. Dr. Hibbert chortled harmlessly and said,

   "Oh, no, nothing we can't fix. You remember years ago when you came in after a fainting spell at a school recital? I gave you some iron pills."

   "Ah." Lisa grimaced. "Yes. That." Dr. Hibbert stared blankly at her.

   "I don't suppose you kept taking those, did you?"

   "Um ... no." Lisa screwed up her face. This was hardly her fault! "They were literal discs of iron! Mom used the leftovers to prop up wobbly chairs!"

   It was Dr. Hibbert's turn to look embarrassed.

   "Erm, yes. Well, it's my pleasure to inform you that Exploit-O'-Corp has gone out of business since that terrible, terrible fire, so I can offer you this!" He produced a large bottle and shook it. The rattling sound spoke to smaller pills, ones that could hopefully fit down a human windpipe.

   "Oh thank God." Lisa grabbed the bottle immediately. "How many should I take a day? Two? Three? Half a dozen? All of them? I've really can't afford to mess this up, this is my only chance to get out of this rotten stinking cesspool!"

   Lisa's face had taken on a slightly manic expression. She tried to calm down and held the bottle in less of a vice grip.

   "Just one a day, before supper. I'd also recommend joining a gym. Don't exert yourself, just try and get a little extra physical exercise in. Might even be good for your brain! Or it will leave you an exhausted wreck incapable of any intellectual rigor. I can never remember which!" Dr. Hibbert chuckled and showed Lisa to the door. She chose to believe Dr. Hibbert's last remark had been one of his bad jokes. Bart had taken up going to the gym, lately. Maybe she could ask him for tips.

   She walked home feeling elated, even refreshed. Wanting to get her health back on track as soon as possible, she downed one of the small pills as quickly as she could. It might have been smaller than the huge pills Dr. Hibbert had prescribed when she was a child, but it still lodged in her throat and made her gag. Feeling incredibly thirsty, she pushed open the first door she saw and looked around. A woman was at a desk.

   "Is there anywhere I can get a drink?" The woman looked up at her.

   "Are you a member?"

   "I'll be whatever you want," Lisa rasped, pointing at her throat. The woman rolled her eyes and handed her a bottle of water. Lisa gulped it down and gasped in relief. "Thank you."

   "That'll be three dollars."

   "What?! That's preposterous!"

   "Standard fee for Third World-produced bottled water at the Rainier Wolfcastle Memorial Grunt-a-plex."

   "Wha--?" Lisa vaguely remembered seeing the gigantic slogan above the vast building in gold lettering: GRUNT-A-PLEX – IF YOU'RE FAT, YOU'RE NOT A REAL PERSON. "Ooooooh."

   "It'll be three dollars or a fifty dollar one-month starter fee. You puke three times, though, it's an extra twenty bucks."

   Lisa's eyes lit up. As a proud sceptic, she didn't believe in serendipity, but this was a stroke of good luck.

   "I'll pay the fee! I've got scholarship money now!" She pulled out her wallet, and the woman disinterestedly carried out the transaction.

   "Congratulations on starting the journey to becoming a better you. Changing rooms through that door. GRUNT-A-STATIONs are just past there. On behalf of McDonald-Mart Co., welcome to the Rainier Wolfcastle Memorial Grunt-a-plex."

   "Right. I'l just be, um, going home now. I need to eat something. When are you open?"

   "Twenty-four hours a day. Do I really need to give you all the slogan crap?"

   "Um, no, thanks." The woman spat out her gum and grabbed Lisa by the shoulders, her eyes bulging.

   "THANK YOU."

   "Right. I'm just gonna ... go."

X

   Lisa returned home without much incident and sat at the dinner table that her mom had prepared. She smiled gratefully at her plate of broccoli and pasta, drizzled with cheap ranch dressing. It was as fancy as they could afford, but Lisa was grateful for the effort her mom put in. Bart, Homer, and Maggie were already halfway through porkchops. Bart had lost most of the classic Simpson paunch, but he still had a little flab layered over his not inconsiderable muscle mass. He waved at her as she joined the table.

   "Hey, Lis'." The weight-lifting had mellowed him out considerably. He claimed there was something weirdly satisfying about pushing a bunch of metal stuff around.

   "Hey, Bart. Thanks, mom!"

   "Don't mention it, sweetie. How did your visit to Dr. Hibbert's go?" Marge's own food was largely untouched.

   "Iron deficiency." Lisa smiled to hide her embarrassment. "Dr. Hibbert gave me an iron supplement. Oh, I joined a gym, too!"

   "Was it the Grunt-a-plex?" This from Bart. Lisa turned to him and nodded. He groaned. "You do know they're run by the corporate elite, right? You should've mentioned it to me. I could've recommended you a
nice, run-down, back-alley anarchist gym. Like the one I go to!"

   Lisa laughed nervously. Bart's conspiracy theories had become a pass-time of his. It was a decent creative outlet, at least. He was still working from home, but he was talking more and more about going to community college. Lisa thought that would be good for him.

   "Thanks, but no thanks, Bart. I just want to try and make sure I'm in decent shape for Harvard." She pronounced the word with a dreamy sigh, lobbing a piece of soggy broccoli into her mouth. "Harvard."

   "You talk about that University like it's a boyfriend," Marge murmured, obviously trying not to sound critical. Homer came to her rescue.

   "Oh, let her be. Lisa getting that scholarship is the only good thing anyone in this family's ever done!"

   Marge, Bart, and Maggie all stared at him.

   "I mean, um, it's just the most, uh ... I'm going to Moe's."

   "No, you are not," Marge growled, fixing Homer with an annoyed stare. It was hard for Lisa to be annoyed. She knew her father had meant it in kindness. She reached over and squeezed his hand.

   "Thanks, dad." He smiled gratefully.

   Later that night, Lisa was awake, mesmerized by the glow of her laptop. Her Harvard University laptop. She was looking over Student Health columns. Apparently cardio and light weight training were a good idea for the ambitious student on the go.

   I'm an ambitious student on the go, Lisa thought vaguely, jotting down a few tips onto a notepad. She glanced at the time in the lower-right corner of her page. 11:56 PM. It was late, but what did she care? Her only summer job had been a brief tutoring position at Springfield Elementary, and that was over, now. She felt adventurous. She packed a bag with a change of clothes and discreetly snuck down to the main floor.

   "Ehehehehehehe. Lisa Simpson, girl adventurer."

   She heard a chair swinging around in the living room. She jumped in surprise and then let out a sigh of relief. It was only Bart.

   "Hello there, Lis'. What're you up to?" Bart stared dramatically at her over tented fingers.

   "Oh, just, uh, going out for a late-night jog."

   "You sure that's safe? Y'know, for a whiz kid, you can be pretty dumb sometimes."

   "Safe?" Bart raised an eyebrow. "Oh."

   "Look, just level with me. Where do you want to go? I'll go with you. I was thinkin' about heading to my gym anyway."

   "Funny you should say, actually." Lisa giggled nervously. "I was thinking about going to the Wolfcastle Gym—"

   "You mean the Grunt-a-plex?" Lisa grimaced.

   "I prefer not to use the word 'grunt.'" Bart threw up his hands helplessly.

   "Okay, okay, I won't say 'grunt.' They call it that 'cause you get hardcore juicers there, though. Fair warning. Don't let 'em push that crap on you." Lisa rolled her eyes. "All right. Wolfcastle's is on the way to my gym anyway. I'll walk with you."

   They walked mostly in silence on the way to the gym. After a while Lisa asked,

   "So, Bart ... any plans?"

   "Not really. Keep workin' out. I've been promoted to Manager at the Krusty Burger. Not much, but hey, beats doin' nothing. I think I might go to college. Not sure what for, yet."

   "That's good."

   "Sure thing. Hey, we're here. All right, give me a call when you're done and I'll come for you, okay? Don't want you getting hurt, sis." Bart patted her lightly on the shoulder, but his strong arm made the gesture more intense than he met. Lisa smiled.

   "Thanks, Bart."

   "Don't mention it. This is a onetime deal, though. I only go to the gym at night 'cause I've got to work in the afternoon. In the future if you want to have a crazy adventure, date Milhouse or something."

   Lisa punched Bart lightly in the shoulder. He laughed and walked on, and Lisa entered the gym. The same girl was at the desk. Lisa wondered if she was still on the same shift. She walked into the changing rooms and quickly changed into a light gym outfit, just a light pink shirt and a pair of blue shorts. She entered the gym area to be confronted by a dizzying complex of machines she didn't know the function of. She made a beeline for the cardio room instead. Here there were machines she understood. Ellipticals, bikes, treadmills. Only one of them was occupied, by a grotesquely muscular Asian woman who barely acknowledged Lisa. She was obviously on the tail end of a workout, her Herculean body swelled and dripping with sweat. Lisa quickly picked a treadmill and started it off easy.

   This isn't so bad, she thought, walking slightly faster than normal. It was impossible to ignore the rapid, pounding rhythm of the female bodybuilder pumping away. Lisa upped her speed to a light job and made the treadmill run at an incline, strictly so that she wouldn't be embarrassed. Her thighs, which were a little chubby, started chafing uncomfortably. Her arms burned as she tried to keep her pace. She thought the other woman glanced at her and refused to give in. This was for school. She just had to have the same attitude.

   "New, huh?" The woman's voice was a surprising baritone. It vaguely reminded Lisa of her mother's voice during her brief bodybuilding stint. She remembered her mom criticizing her saggy glutes.

   "Um. Yeah." Lisa had to take a breath between words. The other woman, meanwhile, barely sounded tired, though she was obviously exerting herself. Maybe she was just used to it.

   "Everyone starts somewhere."

   The woman fell back into silence. Lisa had a hard time believing that woman had just started "somewhere." Out of nothing more than sheer childishness, she upped the speed on her treadmill.

   She ran for over an hour, sometimes giving herself a break on a slower speed, but usually keeping up at her breakneck pace. She felt the other woman watching her. When she knew that she couldn't do any more at all, Lisa slowed down her machine and fell off of it. She tried to get up.

   Her legs weren't working. They felt like jelly. The muscular woman laughed and hopped off her machine.

   "Nice, girl. Need to learn when to quit, but you've got spunk. C'mere, let me help you up." The woman picked Lisa up like she was nothing. Lisa laughed self-consciously as the woman helped walk her back to the changing rooms. Lisa flipped out her cell and dialled her brother. The other woman shamelessly stripped down and went to the showers. Lisa made a point of not ogling her.

   "Hey, Bart? I'm more or less ready, but, um, I think I might have strained myself."

   "Strained yourself?" Bart's voice was muffled by the cellphone static.

   "Yeah. I can't really walk."

   She could practically hear him rolling his eyes over the phone. He arrived at the gym shortly, having freshly showered himself. Lisa didn't think she was up to facing a shower right now. She managed to make her way out to the front entrance and then immediately leaned on Bart's shoulders.

   "Woah, you really did yourself in, huh?"

   "Yeah. Guess I don't know my own lack of strength." Lisa laughed at her own bad joke, then she groaned. "Oh, my everything is killing me."

   "Eh, you get used to it. Just make sure you can walk out the front door the next time." Lisa smiled.

   "Thanks, Bart."

   "Don't mention it."

X

Lisa woke up the next morning in her bed, though she didn't remember getting in. She must have stumbled up the stairs and just thrown herself on top of her sheets. Everything ached, but it was a strangely satisfying kind of ache. She sat up and grimaced at the tight contraction in her stomach and side. Tenderly, she swung her legs out over the edge of her bed and looked at herself in the mirror. Her spiky blonde hair was plastered to the side of her face. She groaned and reached for her dresser, using it to pull herself up. She blinked. Her thighs—which had been killing her after all that painful rubbing—weren't touching anymore. She looked down. Where once, she'd had a bit of a tummy, she now had a flat stomach and a svelte waistline. Her legs had lost a little of the harmless flab she'd developed. Her arms were a little tighter, and more toned.

   "Wow!" Lisa whispered. Everything she knew—and she knew quite a bit—about the way the human body worked told her that her accidentally sadistic workout shouldn't have gone to work that quickly, but she dismissed the thought. You'd barely notice when she was wearing proper clothes, anyway. Lisa stumbled into the shower, laughing in sleep-drunk satisfaction. "Lisa Simpson, fitness genius."

   She turned on the hot water and stayed in the shower for a very long time. She wondered about trying the weights in Woftcastle's gym. Surely just some light weights wouldn't be too much.

X

   Sitting innocuously in Dr. Hibbert's cupboard, there was a small bottle of iron supplement pills. They were, as a matter of fact, completely, utterly ordinary. You could find them in any respectable clinic. What wasn't normal was that there was nothing sitting next to them. In the past month, a colleague of Hibbert's had developed a top secret, highly experimental drug. It hadn't officially been approved for human trials, and its development was not, strictly speaking, legal. Hibbert's colleague had come under investigation, so he'd handed off what few pills he did have to the good doctor from Springfield. Hibbert, who had a live and let live philosophy, accepted without fuss, and hid the pills in an iron supplement bottle. He'd meant to mark the bottle filled with drugs, but in classic Hibbert fashion, he'd just plum forgotten.

   He'd also forgotten about the pills in the first place, and since his colleague was being taken to prison,
he wasn't likely to remember him soon. Which is why he never even noticed that he'd accidentally given Lisa Simpson a dangerous drug instead of a harmless supplement.

[Gertos]

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[Jeremy Lightning]

This is an interesting premise, being a fan of the Simpsons and a fan of muscle and strength growth, I'm interested to see where this goes. k+!

[Gertos]

Here's some more! Pounded it out between shifts at work. Y'know, it was actually the Simpsons that first made me realize I was attracted to muscular women--the Strong Arms of the Ma episode. I saw it when I was something like 10 or 12.

Anyway

   Lisa sank to the bottom of the family shower, letting the water wash over her. Her muscles felt sore, but the pain was fading rapidly. Was that normal? She wasn't sure. She did know the water felt lovely, sliding over her smooth skin. She felt great, actually. She heard her mother calling from downstairs.

   "Lisa! Come down for breakfast!"

   "I'll be out in a minute, mom!" With some regret, she got to her feet, turned off the water, and dried off in a towel. She wrapped herself in the pink fabric and examined herself in the mirror. She twisted her back so that she could see her butt. Whereas before it had been—she could still remember her own mother saying it—"saggy" now her posterior formed two pert, firm spheres. She giggled and slipped out of the bathroom and through the hallway to her room. She closed the door behind her and picked up her usual pink sweater and slim jeans. To her surprise, the waist of her jeans was a little loose.

   "I must be imagining things," Lisa muttered beneath her breath. She couldn't have lost so much weight in such a short time. Could she?

   "Lisaaaa!"

   "I'm coming mom, jeez." She grabbed an old pink belt—she hadn't worn this thing in over a year—and looped it around her waist before she hastily went downstairs. At the last minute, she grabbed one of her iron pills. Her mother was waiting in the kitchen. A plate of pancakes was on the table, ornamented with a couple strawberries. Lisa settled into it with a murmured, "Thanks, mom." She downed the pill with a glass of orange juice.

   "I was wondering if you could stay in today? Your father and I wanted to have a movie date, and Bart's away at work. We need a sitter for Maggie."

   Lisa almost wanted to protest—she'd been meaning to go the gym—but instead she just swallowed her pancakes and smiled.

   "Sure thing, mom."

   "Great! We're leaving in an hour." Lisa blinked.

   "In an hour? Isn't it like—" She glanced at the clock. It was two-thirty. "Ooooh. Right. Um, thanks for the pancakes, mom! Hey, I was wondering, whatever happened to that weight set you had?"

   "Oh, that thing?" Marge laughed to hide her embarrassment. "I burned it. Getting exercise is a
wonderful thing, but too much exercise makes you crazy." She tried to sound wise, but Lisa couldn't help grinning into her pancakes. It had probably been the rampant steroid abuse that had made her crazy.

   An idea occurred to her. She finished her waffles and snuck upstairs, to Bart's room. He hadn't thought to lock the door. The floor was an irredeemable mess, covered in a thin layer of discarded clothes, but in the closet, Lisa spied what she was looking for: an old pair of adjustable dumbbells. She snuck them out of Bart's room and into hers. She was sure Bart wouldn't mind. Or notice, she thought, wrinkling her nose. How he found anything in here was beyond her.

   An hour later, her parents had left, and she was left with Maggie. Maggie promptly holed herself away in her room on her computer, which left Lisa free to hole away in her room on her computer. She'd looked up the top recommended low-weight strength exercises that could be performed with a simple pair of dumb-bells.

   Bart's dumb-bells sat in a dock that had a switch to allow the bars to come off carrying different weights. She dialled them for ten pounds in each hand and pulled them out. They were a little heavy, but not awkward. She took off her sweater and pants, left only in her underwear. No need to get those sweaty if she was working out in her own room.

   "All right, let's start." She clicked on a demonstration video on youtube and followed along with the weights. They started with simple bicep curls. Lisa found them almost frustratingly easy.  Maybe she'd underestimated her own strength? She paused the video, reset the dumb-bells for 15 pounds, and restarted. This time she felt a more tangible burn in her arms as she swung the weights. As she brought her right arm up and clenched, holding the weight at its peak, she noticed a definable curve in her arm.

   Maybe I wasn't out of shape after all! She thought, as the demonstrator moved through a series of other exercises focusing on the arms and upper body. She followed the movements faithfully, stretching her arms out and back and inwards, all the while holding the weights. Only towards the end of the half-hour session did she begin to feel seriously exhausted. She laid the weights down as the video closed with some glib remark from the presenter, who was a minor youtube fitness star. She was sweating, but not much. Not nearly as much as she had been last night, at the gym. Curiosity gnawed at her, though she couldn't really explain it. She eyed the rack that Bart's dumb-bells had rested in, still loaded with weight. No doubt Bart could lift as much as he pleased.

   She remembered why he'd come with her last night. She'd needed some big strong man to protect her just because she wanted to go out after dark! The thought made her angry. With almost spiteful fervency, she reset the weights for their maximum, 50 pounds. She pulled them out of the rack and found she could barely lift them. On pure grit, she jerked them up to her sides and stood in the middle of her room, facing her computer. She clenched her teeth and tried to lift the heavy weight, her entire body going taut with exertion. She watched her slim arm tensing as she tried to raise the dumb-bell. Her slight, barely-there bicep strained and bulged pitifully, and the weight moved an inch. She let out a muffled scream of frustration and she managed to get halfway through a proper bicep curl.

   "Come on, come on!" Driven by inexplicable need, she jerked the weight all the way so that it was touching her upper shoulder, then let it collapse. She fell to her knees with a thud. She stood back up with the other 50-pound weight in her left hand, repeating the process. It was just as painful, nearly impossible, but she managed it.

   "Woo! That'll show 'em," she muttered weakly. She slid the weights back into their rack. Her arms felt like they were on fire, but somehow she couldn't stop. She wanted to feel the pain. She wasn't sure why, but she liked it. She adjusted the weights down to a more reasonable 25 pounds and got back up to shaky feet. She forced her way through the same exercises she'd performed with the youtube video, only this time she could really feel herself working. By the time she was done, she collapsed in a sweaty heap, her skin glistening from the effort. Her limbs felt shaky.

   "Why am I doing this?" She asked herself. She was frightened to realize she didn't have an answer. It just felt good. She tried to convince herself that she was getting in shape for Harvard, but this went way beyond that. It was like an obsession. She took another quick shower and changed into the same clothes she'd been wearing. She heard a movie playing in Maggie's room. Maggie probably hadn't even heard her. As an afterthought, she snuck Bart's weights back to his room, though they were nearly impossible to lift now that she was so exhausted. She dragged them to Bart's closet and nearly fell down the stairs into the kitchen. She was starving

   She needed something that would fill her up. Something like—she hated to admit it—chicken or steak. Instead she found a packet of tofu dogs in the freezer. She put every last one of them into a pot of boiling water and watched them eagerly. When they were done she piled them onto a plate and took it into the living room with a glass of water. She collapsed onto the sofa and flicked on the tv. It was some dumb action movie. She left it on and started eating, practically inhaling entire tofu dogs. She nearly choked and washed them down with the huge glass of water she'd poured for herself, then finished her meal off. She realized, with some embarrassment, that she'd just eaten six bun-less hot dogs in about two minutes.

   "Oh, screw it. I deserve this." She laid down on the sofa and watched the movie. It was a typical action movie with a typical male action star. His muscles gleamed as he fired an automatic rifle into the chest of some Russian spy. Lisa barely paid attention. Her eyelids slipped shut, and she dully realized that she was completely exhausted. That made no sense! She'd only been awake for what, three hours?

   But still, sleep was so inviting....

X

   She woke up in a panic and checked the clock. 8:30 pm. She'd been asleep for nearly three hours.

   "That's crazy...." Lisa whispered. She got to her feet and found, to her surprise, that she didn't feel tired. In fact, she felt positively rejuvenated. Miraculously, she felt a little hungry. She grabbed an apple from the fridge and scarfed it down without thinking, then remembered she was supposed to be watching Maggie. She crept back upstairs and knocked on Maggie's door. She could, thankfully, still hear some British tv show playing inside her room.

   "Maggie?"

   Maggie's voice rang out from the room. She had an impressive ability to sound constantly bored.

   "What's up?"

   "Just checking in." Lisa cleared his throat. "You want anything to eat?"

   "Got myself some mac and cheese while you were passed out on the couch." Lisa flushed with embarrassment.

   "Oh. Okay."

   Almost on cue, she heard her parents' car in the driveway. She walked down the stairs, wincing a little when she moved her arms. They still ached a little. She remembered reading about that burning feeling. Wasn't it supposed to happen as your muscles were torn and rebuilt themselves? Should it really feel so diminished already?  Maybe her workout hadn't been as intense as she'd thought.

   Her mother and father came inside, looking relatively content. Apparently Homer hadn't managed to embarrass them.

   "How'd things go?" Lisa asked, smiling innocently. She didn't want to admit she'd been either working out obsessively or dead asleep while she was supposed to be watching her ten year old sister.

   "Oh, it was lovely! Your father even shared his popcorn!" She touched Homer's shoulder affectionately.

   "It was a magical night for both of us," Homer said wistfully. "Now let's go ... um ... sleep. Yes. Sleep." Homer's eyes darted back and forth before he shrugged, picked Marge up, and darted up the stairs. Lisa pretended not to notice and went back up to her room. She and Bart had been hearing their parents "snuggling" for years. The walls of their house, Lisa was convinced, were at least one part graham cracker. She closed her door and went back to her laptop. Since when was it so hot, anyway? She was starting to sweat, not from exhaustion, but from the uncomfortable warmth. She hadn't really noticed it when she'd been worried about checking on Maggie and answering her parents. She took off her top, half wondering if she'd be back to old, flabby Lisa once the garment was removed. The past 24 hours felt dreamlike and delirious.

   She looked at herself in the mirror and her jaw dropped. This morning, she'd been trim. Now the barest impression of abs was visible on her stomach, which was cleanly divided down her belly button. Her arms were toned and curved; her biceps and triceps had even grown a little. In pure awe—and a little excitement—she raised an arm and flexed it. Her bicep bulged to the size of a tangerine. Just yesterday she'd hardly had any muscles to speak of. Her breasts were pushing against her bra slightly, and she realized she could actually flex her chest muscles. It was exciting, but then terrifying. Despite the heat—which she realized was in her own skin—she pulled her sweater back on.

   "Okay, that can't be normal," she whispered. She went back to her laptop and opened up a window, searching frantically for anything relating to quick muscle development. Most of her searches only returned scam fitness systems that promised overnight transformations. There was almost nothing on anything like what Lisa was going through.

   Her brain was whirring. She normally preferred to take things slow, to appreciate her surroundings, but now she felt like someone had stuck a livewire into her brain. She opened four different browser windows. She turned on two different movies in two of them; one was a Hollywood romance, the other a fitness documentary. She opened two windows of fitness articles and started composing lyrics for a jazz tune in another. Her fingers whirred over the keypad at lightning speed. She had to find out what was happening. Had to gather all the information she could. Had to understand. Had to learn.

   She stayed at her computer throughout the night, blocking out the occasional noises of pleasure coming from her parents' room, until they eventually went to sleep. She grinned and kept working. So far she'd read about fourteen different medical conditions, none of which described what she was having. Did people ever just wake up in young adulthood and become naturally athletic? Not as far as she could tell. She'd also watched five movies in that time, only once watching one at once. She somehow decoded the separate streams of data simultaneously. She felt alive. She felt amazing.

   If I can keep this up, imagine what I'll do at Harvard! She thought, ideas passing through her mind like cars on a freeway. At some point she'd discarded her hot sweater and restricting jeans and was sitting in her underwear at her computer. The dull glow of her laptop reflected onto her skin, highlighting the new curves and grooves of her defined body. She licked her lips and kept studying, consuming knowledge as hungrily as she'd consumed all that tofu.

   She smiled to herself and kept working into the small hours of the morning. With a start she realized it was 4 AM and quickly closed her laptop. She dove onto her bed and tried to sleep, blinking rapidly. She tapped her fingers impatiently against her thighs and tried to sleep. She just couldn't stop thinking.

   She didn't fall asleep until 5 in the morning. She slept for two hours, woke at 7, and felt perfectly rested.

[Gertos]

Also, is there any way I can edit my original post? The "'s" in the title is driving me crazy.

[fredzeppelin]

Wasnt there an episode where Lisa kind of bulked up -- "Stretch Dude" and "Clobber Girl"? Kind of an incomplete physique,
however her biceps and shoulders were definetly big.

[Jeremy Lightning]

I think it's progressing very nicely, I love that she becomes a little bit more muscular, a little bit more defined and a little bit stronger every day. It's going slow, but steady and I like it. Can't wait to see how big and strong Lisa gets to be.

Khuddle, yup, that was one of my favorite episodes, it was part of the Treehouse of Horror Halloween special. Bart got stretch powers, they were a crimefighting duo, some of Lisa's strength feats including picking up the Statue of Liberty to pop an evil blimp and picking up the side of the Simpson's house for Bart to sweep leaves under.

Gertos, unfortunately, you have to be VIP to edit your posts now, so you could ask the Forum administrator or sign up for VIP.

[Gertos]

I think it's progressing very nicely, I love that she becomes a little bit more muscular, a little bit more defined and a little bit stronger every day. It's going slow, but steady and I like it. Can't wait to see how big and strong Lisa gets to be.

Khuddle, yup, that was one of my favorite episodes, it was part of the Treehouse of Horror Halloween special. Bart got stretch powers, they were a crimefighting duo, some of Lisa's strength feats including picking up the Statue of Liberty to pop an evil blimp and picking up the side of the Simpson's house for Bart to sweep leaves under.

Gertos, unfortunately, you have to be VIP to edit your posts now, so you could ask the Forum administrator or sign up for VIP.

Welp, looks like this'll be one of those terribly titled FMG stories. Ah, well. Such is life.

Thanks for the compliment, dude. I really admire your writing.

[El_Roy_1999]

I like it! It's coming along calmly and with respect to the characters and the overall tone of the franchise. Also, the muscle growth is well-executed, nice and slow.
Excellent!

[Gertos]

   Lisa sprang out of bed impatiently, her mind still whirring. She was still in her underwear, which left her tight, fit body plain to see. She'd almost wanted to believe that she'd been imagining or dreaming the whole thing, but no; when she reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes, she felt her biceps bunching into a tight ball. She swallowed nervously and pulled on a pair of old pajamas and an overlarge, long-sleeved shirt that she'd had for a school play, once. She'd been playing a teacher and had accidentally bought a shirt that was two sizes too large. It was the only thing she could think of that would disguise her new physique as she made her way to the shower. She wanted to avoid any questions.

   Luckily, her mom was busy trying to wake Homer for work, and Bart was gone already—probably at the gym—so Lisa was able to slip discreetly into the bathroom with little interruption. Once in there, she pulled off the baggy clothes and looked at herself in the mirror. It was unsettling. She knew this couldn't have happened in two days, not normally. Her neck was even a little defined, the lines of her neck meeting her collarbone at sharp angles. Her shoulders had rounded slightly along with her biceps. If she clenched her stomach, her abs actually protruded out slightly. On one hand, it was exhilarating. What girl grew up in America without dreaming of a body like this?

   On the other, it was terrifying, because there was no possible way that this could happen. She knew. She'd checked every single article on the matter she could find.

   Is it really such a bad thing, though? Lisa thought, arching her back to get a better look at her stomach. She brushed her abs with her fingers and grinned. I mean, it's not like I'm suddenly unhealthy. She took off her underwear and hopped into the shower. She realized that before she'd always made the trip into the shower as quick as possible, so she wouldn't glimpse all the little, flabby imperfections that her clothing normally hid. Now she didn't have to. Her small, round breasts were supported by the beginning of pecs, her love handles had been replaced by a trim waist, and her long legs, once flabby, were now perfectly smooth. She could even notice her thighs bulging slightly when she knelt down. She turned away and got into the shower, meticulously cleaning her new body. She felt amazing. There were no uncomfortable little flaps formed by a bulging tummy now. Her body was tight and firm and perfect.  She gave herself a thorough scrubbing down and cleaned her hair, then stepped out of the shower.

She dried herself down with a towel and put her baggy clothes back on. She didn't want her parents worrying about what was happening to her. She figured she could just wear the baggy clothes around until she figured out what was going on. She returned to her room and got back on her laptop. To her relief, the myriad windows she'd left open last night were still there. She glanced at the bottle of iron pills and looked up anything to do with iron supplements. There was absolutely nothing suggesting anything like this could happen. Besides, vitamins weren't causing this. It had to be something inside her. She took out one of the pills and went downstairs to grab breakfast. The kitchen was empty, so she poured herself a bowl of cereal and got a glass of orange juice. She slurped down her breakfast and popped the vitamin pill in as well. She couldn't risk having a fainting spell; if her mom moved her and discovered her body, she might get freaked out. She remembered how concerned Marge had been that Bart had been using steroids before he'd gone off on an hour-long rant on Chinese steroid suppliers and their corporate conspiracy. If she suspected Lisa of the same thing, she'd probably have a heart attack.

But what else could explain such sudden change? If Lisa was honest, even steroids didn't work that quickly—and she hadn't noticed any masculinizing effects, which presumably would have been as rapid as her muscular enhancement and weight loss. She finished her meal and went back up to her room.

"Okay, Lisa," she murmured. She had a bad habit of talking to herself, mostly because her closest friends as a child had included jazz and arithmetic. "No more exercise for a while. Take it slow."

Even as she said it, she found something deep inside her bucking against the idea. All of a sudden she had an amazing ability, and she wasn't going to use it? Some part of her recognized that her brain was working way faster than was normal even for her, and she wasn't trying to slow that down, was she? Unbidden, the memory of Bart walking her home came to mind. She wasn't mad at Bart, really. She was angry at herself. Why couldn't she defend herself? She'd been able to get that scholarship, earn her way to Harvard, but she couldn't take a freakin' walk at midnight?

She didn't really feel angry. More like she'd pursued a logical path to its frustrating conclusion. She wanted to exercise. She enjoyed the way it felt. Why shouldn't she? Why shouldn't she be able to protect herself?
By the time she was done wracking the question in her head, she'd resolved to return to the gym. She'd just try and make sure she didn't exert herself too much, so that she didn't run the risk of developing so quickly. There wasn't even any assurance that whatever was happening with her body would continue. She smiled, packed an old bookbag with gym clothes, and went downstairs.

"Mom, I'm going to catch the bus to the gym!"

"Okay sweetie!" her mom called from somewhere within the house, tending to some task or another.

X

Lisa arrived at the gym and walked past the desk again, idly checking to see if the same girl was there. She wasn't. That was reassuring. She flashed her club membership card and went through to the changing room, switching from her baggy clothes to her gym shorts and tank top. She stretched with a little pride and walked out onto the gym floor. There were plenty of people here, but they were all too busy training to notice her, which suited Lisa just fine. She started to head towards the cardio room, but at the last second, she decided to go for the weights instead. There were dozens of machines that she frankly had no idea how to use; luckily, there was a large rack of dumb-bells available at the far end of the gym. She walked over and grabbed a pair of 25-pound weights. She figured lifting the 50-pounders again would be suicidal, and would probably just trigger another drastic transformation. 25 seemed to be a good middle ground.
The weights did feel a little light in her hands, though. She tried a few bicep curls and found them almost embarrassingly easy. She set the weights back and grabbed a pair of 30s. They felt a little more solid, at least. Lisa let them hang in her hands, her arms at her sides, getting a feel for the weight in her hands. It felt good. She swung the weights up in each arm, one after the other, her new muscles easily lifting the weights. After eight or nine repetitions, she started to feel the weight in her hands, started to feel her muscles burning. She gritted her teeth and pulled the weight up slowly, watching her biceps peak as the weight came up to touch her shoulder. She let the weights fall back to her side with a shuddering gasp and looked at herself in the mirror. She liked what she saw. A thin sheen of sweat had her body glistening, the smooth grid of her abs sharply visible. Her arms, pressed against her side, looked bigger than ever. The image was oddly mesmerizing.

Once she'd caught her breath, she went through another series of repetitions. As much as she loved watching her bicep bulge, she moved through the other exercises she'd learned from the video, exercising her chest and back as well. She remembered every detail of the youtube series in perfect clarity. It was a very holistic exercise program that didn't really target any one bodypart, but Lisa figured she didn't need to target any one bodypart, not for now. She shifted to some weighted squats, surprising herself with how much she could lift. A leg press machine was free, so she hopped on that, pounding out a few repetitions with fervor. She didn't even notice the numbers she was setting the weights to, she just went for whatever burned.

By the time she was done, she was practically sweating buckets. Her muscles were swollen from all the blood rushing to them during her exercises. She checked herself out in a mirror and saw that her change was even more pronounced than before. The faintest outline of a vein was visible on her biceps. She grinned and stumbled back to the changing rooms. She wanted to take a quick shower, but the thought of showering publically was a little intimidating—she'd never really been big on gyms. When she checked her phone, she saw that it was nearly 1 PM.

I got here at 9:30! Lisa thought, feeling slightly uneasy. She hadn't been able to keep track of the time. She'd gone from one exercise to the next, slowly trying out the complicated-looking machines until, by the end of her session, she'd been on nearly everything in the building. She realized a couple girls—both about as thin-but-chubby as Lisa had been just two days ago—were staring at her arms. Lisa grinned and flexed her bicep. Her arm swelled eagerly.

"Pretty cool, huh?" She said, sounding more than a little dorky. She immediately felt mortified. Without another word, she pulled on her overlong t-shirt and pants, then left the changing room as quickly as she could.

What's getting into me? That's not the kind of thing I'd say! I'm an intellectual for crying out loud! She hopped on the bus back home, thoughts flashing through her head like beams of light. While she'd been at the gym, time had seemed to go away, but now that she was done her mind was moving a mile a minute. Why had she enjoyed that so much? What was it that had prompted her to show off like that? Maybe it was just a lifelong nerd enjoying feeling like a jock. That was the least frightening probability. She just wished she knew more of what was going on with her body, and her mind. She tapped a finger impatiently on the seat-rest as the bus came near her home. She hopped off quickly, and walked home, her long strides moving her much quicker than before. She didn't feel lethargic or tired, but rather impossibly energetic. It was like an electrical current was running beneath her skin.

She arrived home to find her mom's van gone. She must have gone to get groceries or something, which meant Maggie had gone with her. Lisa unlocked the door to their house and ran up to her room, tossing the gym bag to the floor. She undressed and looked at herself in her mirror.

She was almost disappointed to find that she looked more or less as she had at the gym, but she still breathed a sigh of relief. She raised her right arm and slowly flexed the muscle, savouring the curving peak of her bicep a little too much. It was even a little separated from the rest of her arm. She'd never thought she'd have muscles like that.

But it was no different than it had been at the gym. Just a little pumped up from all the exercising. Nothing too extreme. She relaxed and settled back into her computer chair, crossing her sweaty legs beneath her. She tapped impatiently on her keyboard and tried to find something to do. Maybe a movie to watch. Ebook to read.

Her breath was hasty and shallow, as though she were still in the midst of exercising. It was like she couldn't calm down. What was wrong with her?

A thought crept into her head.

Maybe I need to blow off some of this steam. It made sense. Whatever was going on clearly gave her more energy. If her muscles were more responsive than normal, maybe they needed a little more work than normal to tire them out. She thought of Bart's weight set. She licked her lips. Some part of her knew that she was likely getting herself in trouble, but the idea was too appealing to pass up. Before she knew it, she was sneaking Bart's weights out of his room and into hers. They were exactly where she'd left them; he hadn't noticed.

"Okay, just a feeeew reps, and then put them back. Just to calm myself down," she promised herself. She dialled the weights for 35 pounds and pulled them out. They were only a little heavier than what she'd been using at the gym, but her muscles were a little spent already, so she felt the weight even more. She smiled and started to pump the weights up and down, grunting as the dumbbells swung up to her shoulder. Her muscles were flushed with blood, burning from the effort. The barely visible vein on her biceps was growing more prominent, bulging out of the muscle. She swung the weights up as many times as she could, not bothering to keep track, the motion growing more frantic as she progressed. Without thinking, she held the weights parallel to her shoulders and started doing squats, her leg muscles straining with the effort. Finding it wasn't enough, she dialled the weights up for 50 and tried again, savouring the burn in her shoulders, arms, and thighs. The quiet, feminine grunts of exertion she'd been making had given way to full blown growls of frustration as her muscles started to strain beyond what they could do. She was at the bottom of a squat when she simply found her body wouldn't respond no matter what she did.

"Come on you stupid nerd! Do it! Do it!" She growled in frustration and managed to stand back up, before letting her arms fall to her sides. She nearly dropped the weights. Instead she managed to place them back on their rack. She stumbled to the ground and desperately grabbed at the edge of her bed for balance. She was on her knees, her breath coming in great heaving gasps. She'd forgotten herself again. Hadn't the idea been to just do a couple of reps?

Now she was tired. She tried to pull herself onto her bed, but her arm gave out. She collapsed in a heap—a sexy heap, she thought with a lazy smile—and felt her eyes slipping shut. Well, she hadn't gotten much sleep last night, after all....

X

   As Lisa slept, she felt the real world intruding on her dreams, pressing through the thin membrane between the waking and sleeping worlds. She felt pressure, all over her body, as though she were constantly moving outside of herself. She felt her arms bulging, her stomach tightening, her legs burning  and throbbing. Through the sleepy haze of the dream she felt faint stabs of pain as her muscles rebuilt themselves. It hurt, but it felt good, too ... and her dreams were only about herself, a genius, succeeding at Harvard, with a body fit for an Olympian....

X

   "Lisa! Lisa-a-a-a-a!"

   Lisa woke up groggily and managed to yell out,

   "Comin', mom!" She slapped a hand to her face to try to wake her up, and flinched at the pain. "Ow."

   She felt strange. As the pall of sleep slipped away from her, she felt refreshed, though she was starving. A feeling of dread—tempered by anxious excitement—settled into the bottom of her stomach. She pushed herself to her feet and looked in her mirror again.

   "Oh no. Ooooh no. This is bad."

   Her arms were even thicker. Her biceps, once just a delicate curve unless she was really flexing them, now protruded off of her arm even as she held her arms lazily at her sides. Her triceps bulged out behind her arms, filling them out. The vein that had been present at her workout had settled into permanent residence, snaking down her bicep and towards her forearms. Her shoulders had grown as well, their curved shape defined and unmistakeable, now. Her back was definitely a little broader, and her arms were hanging a little off from her sides as they rested against the muscles there. Her abdominals were now unmistakeably defined, and her thighs had a slight teardrop shape even when she was standing perfectly relaxed. She took shallow breaths, trying to keep her muscular body still.

   "Okay, it definitely didn't stop," Lisa whispered under her breath, half-terrified, half-elated. She prayed that her baggy shirt would still hide her shoulders and arms. She pulled it on and breathed a sigh of relief. It was a little tighter, but she could still pass for relatively normal with it on. The pants still fit as well, though they were noticeably uncomfortable over her thighs. She realized she still stank of sweat.

   "I'm just gonna take a quick shower!" She called out, so her mom wouldn't worry. She darted into the shower and stripped down. When she saw herself naked, the effect was magnified. Her back tapered down in a v-like shape down to her thin waist that blossomed out into her larger thighs. Biting her lip, she raised an arm and flexed the bicep, gasping in shock. The muscle curled into a prominent peak, nearly half again as large as it had been before. The vein on her bicep twisted as her muscles bulged. She slipped into the shower without another word, dried off hastily, and pulled the baggy clothes back on. She realized with some anxiety that if she turned the wrong way, you could see her sculpted shoulders bulging through the fabric. She'd just have to be discreet. That wouldn't be hard to believe anyway; Lisa didn't typically take up a lot of physical space.

   She skipped downstairs, trying to look as normal as possible, and joined her mother and Maggie at the dinner table. Homer and Bart were still absent; working, perhaps. Though it was awfully late for that, wasn't it? It had to be at least 6 o'clock; these post-workout naps were wrecking her internal sense of time.

   "Bart's at the gym and your father's at Moe's," Marge explained. Lisa smiled and settled into her meal: a salad. She tried to hide her disappointment. She was starving. Her mother frowned, and asked, "Is there any reason you're wearing that old thing? I didn't think you liked it."

   "Oh, just feeling, um, a little self-conscious. People at the gym are really fit." The white lie slipped easily off her tongue. So this is how Bart does it, Lisa thought dryly. Her mother accepted the excuse with a knowing smile, making Lisa feel a little guilty. She scarfed down her salad and asked if there was anything else she could have to eat. "Maybe something with a little protein? I'm really hungry."

   "Um, let's see ... filling vegan food, filling vegan food. Um ... you can try one of Bart's protein shakes?"

   "Won't he be mad that I've taken some?" Her mother rolled her eyes.

   "He has a 10 kilogram tub of the stuff. I've been using it as fertilizer for weeks." Lisa giggled and went to the cupboard where Bart's shake mix was stored. She mixed one quickly and gulped it down. Not feeling entirely satisfied, she had another.

   "Careful with those! You might gain weight," Marge cautioned gently. Lisa laughed, and tried to make it sound light-hearted rather than guilty.

   "Thanks mom. I'm gonna go back to my room."

   "Oh, I was hoping we could maybe watch a movie? Have a girls' night!"

   Maggie looked up from her chicken nuggets. The look on her face spoke volumes about what she thought of that idea. Lisa grimaced.

   "Um, sure, mom. What'd you have in mind?" She didn't know how to say no—didn't want to, really. She loved her mother.

   "Oh, I was thinking a cheesey romantic movie, some popcorn, maybe talk a little bit about college?"

   "University," Lisa corrected automatically. "Sure! Sounds like fun!" She figured it'd be hard to accidentally reveal a sculpted new physique while they were lounging on the couch. She could feel the muscles of her arms and sides rubbing against one another beneath her shirt, as though reminding her of her guilt. She flushed and looked away.

   Just get through movie night, Lisa. Then you can figure out what to do next.

[Jeremy Lightning]

I like it, I can see the two sides of Lisa debating, trying to remain the smart girl she's always been, but also slowly turning into a muscular jock girl. Trying to decide between pure pleasure that her muscles give her or analyzing how this muscle is changing her. The only glaring problem is that since the Simpsons occur in the US, while it is in the future, I still doubt that they would be using kilograms instead of pounds, so when Marge points out that Bart has a 10 kg tub of protein powder, it should probably be 20 pound tub, instead. But really, I am enjoying this story and can't wait to see Lisa grow huge and really, really strong! k+! 

[Gertos]

Lisa reclined back on the couch as her mother flicked through programs on their Netflix subscription, using Maggie's game console. Marge was sitting between her two daughters, either oblivious to or choosing to ignore Lisa's obvious discomfort and Maggie's boredom.

"Ooh! This one looks good! My Daughter Saint-Marie." It has a pretty terrible romance movie, in Lisa's opinion, but she didn't say as much. Maggie was a bit more vocal.

"Can't we watch Iron Man 6?"

"You've seen that movie a dozen times, Maggie," Marge said absently. She turned to Lisa, who was very carefully slouching so that her baggy shirt hid her bulging biceps and shoulders. She kept getting the urge to flex the muscles, beneath her shirt. It felt like a forbidden, secret pleasure, but she didn't know why.

"Oh, I'm happy with whatever you guys decide," Lisa said hastily. She didn't really want to watch either movie. She just couldn't stop thinking about what was happening to her. Or about anything. Her brain seemed to be going to a million places at once. She wondered if this were a part of whatever it was that was causing her to gain muscle mass so quickly, or if the shock of the experience was just driving her a little crazy. The thought was unsettling.

"We can watch Maggie's movie, then, I guess," her mother said, sounding a little disappointed. Maggie sighed dramatically and said,

"Nah, it's fine. We'll watch yours."

"You're sure?"

"Yes mom." Maggie rolled her eyes. Lisa continued slouching, trying to resist the strange allure of her own muscles. Her mother was to her left. She could probably just flex her right bicep without drawing attention to herself—

What's going on? Why am I thinking like this? Lisa thought. She flexed the muscle quickly anyway, feeling it tensing next to her broadened sides. It felt good. She smiled and settled in as her mother turned on the movie.

"You girls want popcorn?" Marge asked brightly. Maggie shook her head but Lisa said, without thinking,

"Yes, please!"

"Okay, I'll go get some." That was mom, Lisa thought appreciatively. She'd just go and do something for anyone without really thinking about it. She went off to the kitchen to make the popcorn and Lisa was left alone with Maggie in the living room.

"So," Maggie asked slowly, her pre-teen drawl elongating the vowel sound, "What was with all that grunting and screaming and stuff yesterday?"

"Oh." Lisa blushed brilliantly. "You heard that?"

"Tried not to, but my TV's volume sucks."

"Uh, I was just working out a little. Sorry."

"You're really getting into the fitness thing?"

"I think so. Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I dunno." Maggie shrugged. "You never seemed like a jock."

"I'm not a jock!" Lisa said, sounding a little outraged. Maggie shrugged her shoulders again.

"Whatever you say."

"Okay, girls, I've got the popcorn! Did I miss anything?" Their mother mercifully returned in the nick of time. Maggie shook her head.

"Just opening credits and stuff."

Marge settled into the movie without another word, leaving Lisa free to think through the silence. Her mother would occasionally engage in some sort of small-talk, to which both Lisa and Maggie gave half-hearted responses. Lisa didn't pay attention. Instead she was running things in her head, imagining her computer screen, imagining her keyboard, trying to think of something that could explain what was happening to her.

Increased metabolism? That would make sense. It doesn't seem to be hormonal. No abnormal emotional state, just heightened mental alertness. It was the best theory she had so far, but she had no idea what was causing it. Maybe a reaction from the iron pills? No, that was impossible; no compound when combined with iron would cause this sort of reaction. Maybe something in the water she'd had at the Grunt-a-plex? Bart did say that "hardcore juicers" stuck around there; but she found it hard to believe that someone would slip some sort of super-steroid into the drink of a girl who had arbitrarily walked in from the street.

Perhaps it was genetic. Maybe some sort of delayed onset of certain DNA markers, a switch in her genetic code that had failed to go off. She knew there were some people whose bodies produced an abnormal amount of muscle tissue—the same abnormality was intentionally bred into cows—but those people, as far as Lisa knew, were always born with the condition. Perhaps her condition was simply unique, or extremely rare.

If that were the case, she definitely wanted to keep this under wraps. She didn't want to have to spend her first year at Harvard being some Ph.D. student's pet project. As a student on a scholarship, she'd be particularly vulnerable to the whims of a faculty member. She'd always had to be aware of her own dependency on others. It galled her.

She realized, faintly, that the movie was nearly at its end. Her mother was actually crying a little; apparently it was sad. Maggie was near tears. Lisa did her best to put on a properly solemn face.

"That was pretty good," Maggie muttered, trying not to sound like she was crying.

"Yeah," Lisa said, a little worried her mom would ask a question that would require specific details. Instead Marge got to her feet and turned off the TV.

"That was nice, girls." Lisa got to her feet and smiled.

"It was. I missed doing stuff with you, mom." The smile on her mom's face made the bad movie worth it.

"Oh, come here, you!" She embraced Lisa in a sudden hug that Lisa returned on instinct. She realized with paralyzing fear that her developed biceps were brushing against her mother's back, that her mother had to detect that the thickness in her back had nothing to do with bodyfat. Instead her muscle only smiled brightly.

"Lisa! I think you must've really lost some weight! Good for you!"

Lisa blinked. She hadn't noticed. Lisa had been sure—hadn't even considered otherwise—that the slightest slip-up would reveal just how strange things were. But maybe she'd just been focused on her own body; most people seemed to view weight gain or loss as something that happened suddenly, or at least was only noticed suddenly. Her mom didn't suspect a thing. She also hadn't seen Lisa's figure competitor-level body, but Lisa tried not to focus too much on that.

"Hey, I'm gonna go back upstairs. There's some stuff I wanna look up on my laptop. For university." Marge hugged her quickly again and said,

"Sure! I'll be downstairs cleaning if you want to come and hang out with Marge! Eh? Eh?" Maggie shot Lisa a mortified look and sprinted up the stairs. Lisa grimaced, smiled at her mother, then followed her sister. She heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner starting, and felt a little guilty.

She closed her door and walked into her room. Bart's weight set was still sitting on her floor.

No. I've already taken this way too far, Lisa thought. Instead she went to her computer to research metabolic anomalies. She took off the shirt and baggy pants and turned to look at her sculpted physique in the mirror. When she twisted her sides, she could see little oblique muscles popping out around her ribcage. She brought a hand up and touched them. They tickled. She licked her lips and rubbed a hand along her abs, watching the skin brush across her defined muscles. I do look good, though.

She put her hands behind her head and clenched her stomach, her abs locking together like armor plating.  Her lats spread out with the motion, showing off the width of her back. She giggled. Just two days ago she hadn't even had lats!

She looked at herself in her mirror and realized that she loved her new body. She'd do anything to keep it. She'd do anything to improve it. It had become another facet of her pursuit of perfection, another way for her to fight against all the things in her life telling her that she needed someone else to rely on. She sat down at her computer and opened up another article—this one on mental performance enhancers—and fidgeted with her mouse. There was that excess energy again. She found it hard to concentrate on anything. Her brain was still working unbelievably fast, but it was like she was in the seat of an F1 racer and she'd just hit an ice patch, or something. She'd lost control of her thoughts; it felt like she was trying to think through a thick fog. Typing suddenly became a task too slow and mundane for her fingers, which flitted across the keys with imprecise haste. She grew frustrated and turned away from her laptop.

She got to her feet and started pacing around the room. She kept coming back to Bart's dumb-bells, as though they were drawing her, as though they were the sun and her room the solar system. Everything came back to them. She reached down and picked them up, not thinking about anything other than how good it felt to pump up her muscles. She craved the burn.

The dumb-bells were set to 50 pounds. They were heavy, but not unmanageable anymore. As she held them at her sides, she felt her biceps and forearms going taut, the dormant strength in her arms being readied for duty. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled greedily, admiring her abdominals, admiring the perfect taper and curves of her waist, admiring the vein that was popping out of her bicep thanks to the stress. She pulled one weight up, slowly, evenly, gritting her teeth with exertion and closing her eyes. When she got the weight to its peak, the opened her eyes and looked at her bicep, swollen to a beautiful peak. She licked her lips and let the weight down, before she raised the other, and kept repeating the bicep curls. She did as many workouts as she could, though she was finding them disappointingly easy. Her muscles burned and bulged and coursed with strength, but she was increasingly dissatisfied. She needed to get back to the gym, where she could push some real weight. The fifty pounders were pushing her to her limit, but they wouldn't do that for long, not with the rate she was getting stronger.

She let the weights down back on the rack. Her body felt hot and sweaty, and her arms felt weak from all the exercises. She'd focused a bit much on the bicep and tricep curls. She checked the time—nearly 10 pm. Nowhere near the time to sleep, yet. She got back to her computer and found it was at least possible to concentrate; most of the excess energy had been worked off. Unfortunately, if she kept using exercise as her solution, and if her development continued so rapidly, things would quickly get out of control.

What am I going to do?

As the night went on, she tried to get back into her old activities; listening to jazz, reading books, looking up student publications. She was mostly successful, but every now and again her brain went into overdrive. She'd start multitasking about a dozen different things, and then the noise of constant thinking became too much to handle and she'd have to take the weights in hand and pound out a few bicep curls. She found it only took a little exercise to vent the extra mental activity; the hard part was putting the dumb-bells down, even if her muscles felt like they were on fire. The veins in her biceps started to become more visible as she worked them harder.

It wasn't until 4 AM that she managed to get to sleep. She stumbled into her bed in her underwear, sweat gleaming on her skin, coming down in rivulets between her abs. Her entire body felt swollen and sore. Hoping that her body had perhaps exhausted its ability to spontaneously become muscular, she went to sleep. The logical, thinking part of her brain was dreading waking up even more developed then before; but another part, just as powerful, desperately hoped she'd wake up even bigger. It took her a while to get to sleep, as excitement and fear battled in her head, but eventually, exhaustion won.

X

She dreamt that she was lying in bed, staring down at her body even as she was asleep. She could watch her chest rising and falling with each drowsy breath. She could see her chest muscles, rising up a bit as she breathed, offering a firm platform for her breasts. Her arms were at her sides, lying on the bed with their biceps facing inward. She tried to move her neck and found she couldn't.

She felt a burning, a horrible burning. Was that even possible in a dream? She tried to wake herself up, but found she couldn't move. Her chest moved faster, her breasts rising and falling like the rounded ornaments of a muscular tide. She wasn't just imagining things, either: her body was actually starting to expand. Her arms twitched in fits as her biceps literally started to bulge outward, veins pressing against her skin like a roadmap. Her pectorals started to rise and thicken, faint striations appearing beneath her skin. She couldn't see the rest of her body, but she could feel it, feel her legs burning and pulsing with strength, feel her powerful thighs thickening and expanding with pure lean, brutal muscle. She wanted to scream, either in ecstasy or fear, but she was only dreaming.

X

Lisa awoke slowly, remembering the details of her dream. It had been so vivid. Slowly, the reality of what was happening to her started to come back to her. She immediately swung her legs over the side of her bed and felt them rubbing against one another, her thighs chafing. She spread her legs out and looked down, half-expecting to see her old, flabby legs again. She did not.

Almost out of routine, she got out of bed and looked at herself in the mirror. What she saw was shocking, but not so shocking because she'd seen it all in her dream. Her chest and back were wider than ever, now definitely wider than a normal girl's. Even her neck had grown thicker, so that it was nearly wider than her head, supported by noticeable trapezius muscles that obscured where her neck ended and her body began. Her shoulders were half the size of her head, leading to huge biceps and triceps that bulged with nascent power. Even her forearms had grown thicker. Her pecs pressed her breasts out, making her bra uncomfortably tight. Her abdomen had become a study in fine lines. She had an eight or ten pack now, each individual muscle bulging out of her mid-section like a cobblestone. The oblique muscles along her sides were impossible to miss, now. Her legs had grown as well, particularly in her thighs, which had grown so large that unless she broadened her stance, they rubbed together. She took deep breaths, staring at her unbelievable physique. She remembered the Asian woman from the gym just a few days ago: at the time she had seemed outrageously, almost disgustingly muscular. Now Lisa wasn't so far behind her. When she breathed, her entire body rippled. She raised an arm and flexed it slowly, savouring the motion. Her bicep grew and peaked, separating from the rest of her arm, the veins along it writhing as the muscle exerted itself.

Irresistibly, one hand slipped down into her panties and she started massaging her clitoris, licking her lips and flexing her muscles. Her stomach clenched and bulged as she touched herself, even as she flexed her arm for her own enjoyment. She leaned forward and flexed her traps, which snapped to life with astonishing power. From this angle they looked huge. She groaned softly and finished herself off, falling to her knees. She hit the floor with a thud. She took a heavy breath and looked at herself in her mirror, on her hands and knees. Aside from her face, she barely even recognized herself.

What's happening to me? She thought, And why am I enjoying it so much? She knew she was supposed to be afraid, but she wasn't. Somehow, she only wanted more.

[Jeremy Lightning]

Another excellent installment! I have really liked what I have seen so far out of this story, I love that it takes Lisa all of three days to become an intensely muscular girl that could possibly step on stage at a bodybuilding competition and place very well. Her muscles are very big and must be mighty strong at this point, I would love to see her at the gym, giving everyone a spectacular show of muscle size and female strength. I also love that parts of her that are dreading her growing muscles are fading from her psyche being replaced with a need to grow her muscles as big as possible. I like to see that in stories, good to see that here. I really can't wait to see what Lisa will do next, I just hope maybe she inspires Marge and Maggie, that would be great, all the Simpson's girls pumped up! k+!

[Gertos]

Maggie's only ten, and I'm not really into that sort of thing, so she won't be getting in on the action, I'm afraid (or at least not in the timeframe of this story). As for Marge--well, onto the next segment.

/

Lisa slowly got back to her feet, bracing her palm against her knee. As she stood up, she naturally assumed a wide stance, her legs held apart so that her thighs weren't competing for space. Her arms were hanging lazily off of her muscular sides, which expanded and contracted slightly with each breath. She swallowed and she could see her neck surge with power. She licked her lips and tried to straighten her thoughts.

This has gone too far, Lisa realized, staring at her Herculean physique in her mirror. She raised a hand to her chin and her bicep bunched up to the size of a grapefruit. She looked dubiously to the overlarge shirt that she'd discarded last night. Would it even fit?

Only one way to find out. She pulled the shirt over her head and felt it tightening against her new bulk. It was tight, but not too uncomfortable. When she looked at herself in the mirror, though, it was plain that she was no longer flabby Lisa Simpson. The shirt was tight around the muscular contours of her body, and if anything, the pale fabric actually highlighted Lisa's transformation.  When she pulled on her pants, they were stretched nearly to breaking around her thighs, though her tight waist didn't prove a challenge. She took a breath and felt the fabric of her shirt straining.

"I can't hide this anymore," Lisa whispered. She looked like a bodybuilder. She remembered the way her mother had looked when she'd been overdosing on steroids. Lisa was nearly that size now, though she wasn't quite as broad in the waist, and her muscles were almost completely depleted of bodyfat. It was like her body had burned through every bit of energy she'd provided for it.

Probably something metabolic, then, Lisa thought rapidly, even as she tried to think of what she could do now. She'd have to tell someone what was going on. Who could she trust?

Mom. If there was ever anyone I could trust, it'd be mom. She even knows something about this—or something like it, anyway. Lisa didn't feel quite ready to show the rest of the family her body, though. Instead she just pressed against her door and called out,

"Mom! Can you come up to my room, please! It's urgent!"

"You can't come down yourself? I'm making your father's second breakfast!"

Shouldn't he be at work? Lisa thought, before she added,

"I'm afraid I can't!"

"Okay, I'm coming." Lisa stepped back from her door, unlocked it, and waited. She heard the soft, rapid steps of her mother ascending the stairs, and took a breath, trying not to think about her muscles shifting with her every movement.  Her mother knocked on her door. "Is it okay for me to come in?"

"Yeah, mom." Her mother walked in the door and her jaw dropped in mute shock. Almost independently of the rest of her body, her arm reached for the doorknob and forced the door shut. She locked it with a click. "I'm in trouble."

"In trouble? Lisa, you're jacked!" An ecstatic grin broke out on her face.

"Um, pardon? Mom, this is—"

"Wait. Are you taking steroids? Because if you blow your cycle—"

"What? No! That's what's wrong, I don't know why this is happening. I just keep exercising, and then I wake up with another ten pounds of muscle! It's insane!" Her mother stopped and nodded.

"I believe you, Lisa." Lisa's heart leapt into her throat and she nearly cried with gratitude. She grabbed her mother in a bone-crushing hug. "Woah! Careful, sweetheart."

"Sorry." Lisa relaxed her grip a little. "I just don't know what to do. I was scared you wouldn't believe me."

"Lisa, you're talking to the woman who raised Bart Simpson. I have a better performance record than F.B.I. lie-detectors." Marge chuckled at her bad joke and stepped back. "So! Wow. You've really got some guns on you." She sounded almost envious.

"Yes, but I don't know how, or why, or what to do about them? It's more than that, too," Lisa said, intensely grateful to have someone to talk to about this. "My brain's working about four times as fast as normal. I'm always hungry. I think my metabolism must be through the roof, and the only way to calm my thoughts is to work out. But whenever I work out, this happens!" She gestured down at herself helplessly. Her mother took her hand and guided her to her bed.

"You should go see the doctor, Lisa. I know this is scary, but you've got to do what's right. You don't want to jeopardize your chances at Harvard, do you? We can figure this out." Her mother smiled. "Together. For now, let me get you some of your father's emergency sweaters."

"Emergency sweaters?"

"Whenever there's a football game or a robot fighting show, your father always gains about 10 pounds from all the pork rinds he eats. I have a half-dozen XXXXL sweaters on reserve, just in case. You can hide your muscles in one of those on the way to Dr. Hibbert's, unless you want to tell everyone else about what's happening."

"No. I don't want to have to endure Bart's conspiracies, and dad will worry." Her mother nodded in agreement and kissed her on the forehead.

"You wait here, Lisa. I'll go fetch that sweater."

Then her mother was gone. Lisa took a calming breath. This was good. Someone else knew, now. She felt less like she were keeping a dirty secret and more like she was in on something fun. Why shouldn't she enjoy this? She knew that she had already passed by the bounds of conventionally attractive muscularity for a woman, but she was a proud feminist, wasn't she? She was free to get as jacked as she liked.

"Yeah," Lisa muttered, feeling unusually sly. "Jacked." She raised her arm and flexed the bicep. She could hear the fabric straining; if she kept this up, it was going to tear. She relaxed her arm as her mother came back into her room, bearing a horrible maroon sweater.

"Okay, here you go, Lisa." She handed Lisa the sweater. It might have doubled as a tent canvas, but when she pulled it on, it successfully obscured her impressive upper body. If you looked closely at her legs, you'd realize that her jeans were pulled tight over bulging muscles, but at a glance it could be mistaken for fat. Her mother evaluated her with an approving eye. "All right, that works. I've phoned Dr. Hibbert and told him it's urgent. He'll be able to see us in an hour, so let's get going!" Her mother was clearly enjoying the thrill of a good conspiracy. Lisa smiled and nodded, following her mother down the stairs. Her father and brother were still absent—working, maybe?—but Maggie was sitting on the couch watching TV. She raised an eyebrow at Lisa's strange attire, but didn't comment.

"Maggie, can you be good and stay by yourself for a while? Lisa needs to go to the doctor."

"Sure." Maggie couldn't have sounded less interested. For once Lisa was deeply grateful for Maggie's youthful apathy. She followed her mother into the car and got into the passenger seat. It felt smaller than it used to. Normally she sat with her legs tightly together, but now she found she had to spread her legs apart just to be comfortable. Her mother got in beside her and turned on the car.

"You know," Marge said, after she pulled onto the road and started towards the Doctor's office, "I always missed weightlifting. I'll never forget that feeling of strength, like I could just do all the laundry in ten seconds!" Lisa laughed. Marge didn't seem to realize what was funny. "I even kinda miss the steroids. It felt pretty good to just be the one who got her way, for once. But they mess with your head."

"Honestly, my head feels pretty messed with. Though I don't feel aggressive. I just can't stop thinking all the time."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you look great. You could really compete on a stage, you know."

"Unless this turns out to be some terrible illness."

"Oh, come on, what kind of terrible illness actually makes you healthier?" Marge asked. Lisa couldn't help but agree.
X
It took a while for Dr. Hibbert to be free to see them, but eventually, he admitted them into his office. He seemed a little surprised to see Lisa again.

"Well, Lisa, I didn't expect to see you so soon. Are the vitamins working all right?"

"Yeah, they're fine, but they're not what we're here for," Lisa said rapidly. "It's this." She took off her sweater, revealing her muscular body, swelling against the tight confines of what had once been a shirt that was several sizes too large. Dr. Hibbert gasped. She thought she saw some glimmer of recognition in his eyes, but it passed.

"W-well well, that's quite impressive! But I don't see what's wrong."

"This happened in three days. You saw me the last time I was here, I barely had enough strength to lift a heavy textbook!" Dr. Hibbert went over to the cupboard and checked for something. He emerged and looked kind of nervous, but when he spoke it was with his usual easy aplomb.

"Oh, I wouldn't be too worried. Oftentimes people have these kinds of growth spurts as the last waves of puberty fade away. You'll be fine. Just maybe go a little easy on the weights!"

"Don't you want to take any tests?" Lisa was stunned. "I think it might be something with my metabolism, I—"

"I was about to say the same thing," Dr. Hibbert said quickly. "A growth spurt often comes with an increase in metabolism, that's fairly normal. Nothing to worry about."

"Really?" Lisa asked. She couldn't think of a single way that what Dr. Hibbert was saying made sense, but he was a doctor with years of experience, after all. Maybe she should just trust him. If this was all natural, then there was no reason to fear it, was there? The possibility nearly had her salivating.

"Yes, really. Now unless you've got a broken bone, get out of my office!" Dr. Hibbert said it like a joke, but his voice sounded clipped, and somewhat agitated. Lisa nodded and thanked Dr. Hibbert, pulling the sweater back on. She and her mother left without another word.

"Did you hear that, Lisa? Just a growth spurt! It's probably just because you started working out at the same time. The Simpsons genes are also pretty good in the gym, and I should know! Look at Bart! Hell, look at my second place bodybuilding trophy!" Lisa smiled. Her mother had a point. "You know," Marge said, sounding wistful, "I might start lifting again. I miss it, and now that you're going to be leaving, I'll have less to do around the house."

"I think that's a great idea, mom!" Lisa was thinking privately that her mother might have a hard time resisting the allure of steroids—they reminded Lisa of her gambling problem—but she had no idea how to say that without sounding offensive. Instead she just smiled and returned to the car.

It's safe. I'm fine. I'm healthy. Now I can really get to work.
X
In his office, Dr. Hibbert was in a mild panic.

He'd given her the pills. The extremely rare and dangerous pills. It was a miracle she was alive. Those pills worked on the genetic level; if her body had rejected them for whatever reason, she would've started to deteriorate. Well, that obviously wasn't happening. In fact, it seemed that the pills were working exactly as intended. He wished she'd gone into greater detail about her enhanced brain function. Increased intelligence had been one of the desired outcomes of the drug, he remembered. There seemed to be the minor side effect of some ADHD-like symptoms, but that was negligible.

Yes ... he'd have to be covert about it, but this would be quite an excellent opportunity for study. There might even be a Nobel prize in it for him.
X
"Hey, Lisa, I've got an idea," her mother said. "I know you just signed up for that gym—but I was thinking, what if I got a weight set for us at home? It could be you and me, a couple of girls getting in shape!"

"In shape?" Lisa asked dubiously. She grinned arrogantly, "I'm already in shape, mom."

Marge giggled. "Right. But you still want to exercise, don't you?"

Lisa thought of the image of herself in the mirror and licked her lips.

"You bet."

"Then what would you say if I bought a weight set for the basement? You can use it before you go to University, and we can get a little mother-daughter bonding time in!"

Lisa smiled. She imagined herself growing, getting bigger, more muscular, bigger than Bart, bigger than Reinier Wolfcastle, bigger than anyone. The images ran through her mind at lightning speed, too fast to comprehend and too alluring to ignore.

"That sounds like a plan."

[El_Roy_1999]

I like the way this is progressing! Awesome!
Karma given.

[Jeremy Lightning]

Yup, that's okay about Maggie, I didn't know how old she was in your time line, I mean, I'm okay with younger muscle, but I know most people aren't so I won't push it on anyone. But yeah, I still like the way this story is progressing, now Lisa has the full support of Marge and now is no longer self-conscious and guilty about her muscle growth, she has the green light to grow as big and strong as she wants, and I guess judging by the thoughts going through her mind, she wants to grow very, very big, which I am all for. k+!