My first attempt at really writing something. I've got more to follow, but I thought I'd see how well this was received. Lemme know what you think, no one can get better if there's no productive criticism right? And it does get better... at least I think so!
Thick and Thin... and Thicker!
by femuscle
Feb. 6, 2008
Part I – Jennifer Stephenson…
‘God,’ she thought, waving at a roaring crowd. ‘I hate this.’ She slowly turned around with a disappointed sigh and slowly walked off the stage with her head held high and a smile on her face. But inside, she felt empty and hollow. She could see the grinning faces staring at her from just off stage. ‘I should be with them.’
“Nice Job.” said one.
“Great routine!” said another.
“You look awesome!” said yet another.
“Oh, thanks ladies. Good luck.” she replied with no conviction in her voice. They all had to turn sideways to get through the stairs as the passed, not because it was narrow, but because they were all so wide. ‘You’re all so damn lucky I’m not out there again…’ Jen thought bitterly.
At the base of the stairs, once all the competitors had made their way on stage, she turned around to watch them all jockey for position in front of a rambunctious crowd. Hoots and hollers could be heard from both the men and the women in the crowd as the women on stage readied themselves. Finally, the music started and the women proceeded to flex and strain their pumped and vascular bodies, their muscles rippling and glistening in the spotlights.
She felt her jaw drop slightly and a shiver ran down her spine as she watched, mesmerized by the awesome display of female muscle before her... even though it was just the lightweights. Lats flared and quads exploded while calves jutted; abs rippled while pecs soared and biceps threatened to burst through the skin. Hundreds of pounds of female muscle pulsated and strained against its’ human confines. Despite being more sore than usual from her posing routine, Jen couldn’t help but began to ache for that familiar feeling she would get while in the positions that she was witnessing before her. That feeling of unbridled power of every muscle in her body being cooked under the spotlights as she would push her body to explode with muscle; feeling each engorged fiber strain, pulse and expand to new heights and dimensions while she flexed; each flex being harder and bigger than before.
She felt herself drift into the all too familiar memory that had been plaguing her lately, yet it always brought a smile to her face. It was the memory of her first pro contest five years ago at the ripe, young age of 18, and the stunned reaction that she caused once she took, rather took over, the stage. She had been so excited for that moment; she had looked forward to it for as long as she could remember.
‘I was born for this.’ She thought. In fact, it seemed that she had been born for the Ms. Olympia contest. Her parents were physically active and very fit themselves, but were not even comparable to their daughter and, therefore, certainly not prepared. When she was born her parents and even the doctors had been amazed at her strength as a newborn. She could grab a hold of something and literally hang from that object at just 2 days old. As a toddler, she could be found throwing her dads’ 25 pound weight plates across the room; the dog cowering in the corner with a bloody mouth from one to many attempts at catching the heavy Frisbees. The older she got and the bigger she grew, her strength seemed to grow exponentially. At the age of 12 she was exposed to her first muscle magazine, which she learned was her older brothers’ after getting the mail one day and stood mesmerized on the front walk staring at the front cover with a picture of a ripped Marja Lehtonen flexing her infamous biceps and smiling, Jen thought, at her.
After that, all her free time was devoted to using her fathers’ home gym to build herself into “M-J”, short for “Marja Jr.”, as she liked to call herself. And the results were immediate; her body absorbed and responded to everything that she could possibly do with the weights so quickly that she had to borrow her brothers’ weights in conjunction with her dads’ before she turned 13. And the best feeling for her, besides the strength of her blossoming muscles, was the positive support that her parents gave her. They encouraged her during her workouts, though they begged her to stop the all-nighters and get some much needed rest! They also pushed her with many more weights, each set much heavier than the last, so that she could push herself and her body above and beyond any bodybuilder that she could read about. They also got her subscriptions to every muscle, fitness and health magazine they could get their hands on, to which she eagerly devoured for information to further her development.
By the time she had enrolled in high school, she had won numerous Jr. Muscle awards from numerous contests with a physique that had surpassed her idol, Marja Lehtonen. She had even won the World’s Strongest Man competition three times before growing bored with it. But that still wasn’t good enough for her; she wanted, needed and desired to get bigger, stronger and more muscular than any human had before. So she talked to the strength and conditioning coach for the athletic department and made an arrangement to use the weight room after hours. Often times, she would startle the overnight janitor as he would come in at 1am to find her, drenched with sweat, breathing heavy and standing in an enormous pile of weights that she had been lifting, curling and heaving, all to push her body into such a muscular frenzy that, once, he actually feinted at the mere sight of her.
Finally, in her senior year, at the ripe age of 18, she had just completed a long night of the most intense workout that she had ever put herself through, physically and mentally, and decided to take her measurements for the first time since picking up a barbell. At the end of measuring herself, which proved to be much more difficult seeing as how she was shaking so bad from the intense pump, she stood stark still for minutes… dumbstruck. And she knew. She knew what she had done and she knew now what she was. She also knew that she now had to show everyone who would look what she had accomplished. ‘Ms. Olympia, here I come.’
Through some well placed phone calls from her father, Ann found herself standing in awe backstage at the Ms. Olympia in just two short weeks. ‘I don’t know how Daddy did it, but I’ll make it worth it!’ she thought as she surveyed the backstage pump room, filled with many of the women that she had admired through the years as pictures in the numerous magazines that she rifled through.
The individual posing routines were scheduled first, and once she managed to settle the butterflies that had mutated into large birds while in her stomach, she climbed the staircase leading to the dark stage. As she walked to her mark on the floor, she could feel each footstep reverberate the floor and hear her heart thudding hard and fast in her heaving chest.
‘Where is everyone?!’ she wondered as she stood her ground, waiting for the music to start. She could have sworn there was a crowd earlier. She had heard them, her ears were still ringing from all the cheering of the previous competitors, and she could practically feel them. But now the silence was, ironically, deafening; not even the crickets were making a sound. ‘Breathe,’ she told herself. ‘Just breathe… and smile!’
With a jolt, her selected music started, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she felt her body move and contort itself into various poses that she had practiced so much it was practically programmed into her. As she progressed through her routine, while parading around on stage in a bikini stretched so thin it literally left nothing to the imagination, she held each pose for only a heartbeat, yet each one felt like forever, her muscles burning and aching but never relaxed. She could feel her blood rapidly coursing through her veins and could see them throb with each beat of her thudding heart as they snaked over her entire body. Each pose was an explosion of muscle, that she willed to grow and expand even bigger through gritted teeth, stretching her skin so thin, and combined with the oil she was coated in, that every fiber could be seen rippling with Herculean intensity.
Nearing the end of her routine, she stood up on her toes, she felt her 29” calves transform themselves into their thick, vascular, heart-shaped form. She whirled around and pointed her big toe, one at a time, practically through the floor, enabling her hulking 54” quads to flare, each tear-dropped muscle hardening and separating in God-like fury. Next, as she blew out her breath, her 8-pack abs, along with her oblique’s, strained and formed into a cobblestone walkway that wrapped around her impossibly small, 33” torso. She then inhaled, causing her slab-like pecs to solidify into a striated fury which made her EE-cupped breasts jut straight out from her monster chest so fast that she could actually hear several threads in her bra actually snap. Next, she slid into a side chest pose to allow the audience to gape at her 5” deep pectoral cleavage alone, not including those ample breasts, a foot deep in their own respect. From there she dropped her arms to the classic tricep pose that allowed hers to fan out to their immense glory resembling stacks of iron horseshoes that filled the back side of her arms.
‘Now for the encore,’ she thought. ‘Time to finish STRONG!!’ She straightened up, looking head first into the dark audience, feeling the heat from the spotlights radiate over her immensely quaking body. She slowly raised both arms to her sides and then above her head, timing the movement to the building pitches in the music. Finally, at the crescendo, she dropped her arms in an animalistic fury into a front double biceps pose that caused her colossal 32” biceps to swell with such amplitude, the likes of which she herself had never experienced before. But what a feeling it was! On a whim, she straightened her arms, rotating her wrists as if working out a kink, and then brought them back up once more with such a climatic potency, it felt as if they swelled even bigger!
She stood there for what felt like an eternity, holding a pose that no human eye had ever been witness to. Finally, the flashbulbs from the cameras exploded from every angle and the crowd erupted in a massive chorus of cheering. She slowly let out her breath, dropped her shaky arms to her side and took a deep bow to the audience, relived that it was over. She straightened up, her chest heaving as she gasped for air after such an intense workout, she even considered posing a workout due to the fact that it felt like a full body workout when she was finished, blew the audience a kiss with a wink and walked off stage, her legs feeling like jelly.
‘To say I won that day would be an understatement,’ she thought as her focus came back to present day. ‘I ruled for 5 years, bigger, stronger and more ripped each year.’ Though the thought brought a satisfied smile to her face, it also stoked the slow simmering fires of rage that reminded her of where she was at now. ‘And while they prance around stage, ogled by those fucking idiot judges, I’m…‘ She internally fumed then, “STUCK back stage,” she bellowed out loud, punching the air. “Because I’m TOO BIG for a BODYBUILDING CONTEST!”
“JEN!”
She whirled around in a fury, slamming into the oncoming stage manager, sending him flying back into the pre-stage mirror with a crash and a shower of shards.
“Oh, God!” she gasped. “Paul!” She rushed to his side and kneeled down at his side, brushing off the broken mirror pieces from him. “I’m so sorry Paul,” she cried. “I didn’t even see you there.”
“Christ, Jen, I know you’ve been upset bu– OW!” He grimaced as she pulled a small shard from his arm. “Careful! Please!”
“Sorry! I’m sorry!” she replied. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know… I mean, I didn’t see you th–“
“Yeah, yeah,” he retorted, cutting her off with a wave. “You mentioned that already. I was just coming to see who let the screaming bull loose in my backstage!”
“Wha– “ she stammered. “You mean you heard me?!”
“Hell Jen, everyone heard you! Luckily, the girls just got done with the initial pose down.” He said, pointing behind her.
She spun around and looked up to the stage to see the mass of women standing at the top of the stairs looking down on them, mouths either hanging open or covered in shock by shaking hands. She could hear the announcer say something about a “…disturbance backstage being tended to now, there’s nothing to worry about!” She turned her head the other direction to see everyone else backstage staring as well, frozen in place at what they were doing to take in the scene. Feeling the heat in her cheeks as they glowed bright red with embarrassment, she turned back to Paul and gingerly helped him to his feet.
“Thanks,” he said to her. “OK everyone! Let’s get back to the show! Move! MOVE!” he yelled at everyone else. Slowly, eyes averted themselves from Jen, standing with her head hung low, back to their tasks of oiling, pumping one last time or squeezing into their posing suits. “Jen, seriously, relax,” Paul continued. “I’m real sorry about what happened to you, but go to the gym and take it out on the punching bag, not my stage! Please!” he pleaded with her.
“Yeah, OK. I– God, Paul, I’m really…” she stammered, pointing to the broken mirror. “Now, would that be you or me that’s got seven years bad luck?”
“Ha. Ha. Smartass. I’ll get someone to clean that up. You go that way, and cool down!” he ordered her, giving her a nudge in the back, which, he realized, was like an infant trying to move a mountain. She slowly began her walk of shame to her locker on the far side of the staging area, feeling as if all eyes were still on her.
To Be Continued...
