+Notable Author: [JerusalemTulip] Stories~collected

[JerusalemTulip]

 

Stories in this collection:

*No Title*

Stunt Day

New Story: The Cellar

It Started On Halloween



I've been mostly lurking since I registered, occasionally leaving thanks or encouragement, but not really contributing anything in the sense of content or useful criticism.  Anyway, I would like to start addressing the former, and if my writing generates any interest, maybe I/we can learn a bit about the latter too.

I don't read or write as often lately as I did before finishing school, and I've never attempted to write fiction.

Below is a short start to a story.  There is no title, I'm not entirely sure what it is or where it is going. 

I expect that things will move somewhat slowly, and you won't encounter any of the content that most members come to this site for right away.  As such, this may not be every(any?)one's cup of tea.

Without further ado. 

*No Title*

         It was a bright and clear morning.  Dick Fitzer turned over in bed to escape from the sun's rude arms, but she was reluctant to forgo her embrace.  The back of his neck quickly began feeling like it was in a toaster.  Toast?  Oh right!  Breakfast!  He was shipping out today.  He had to hurry if he wanted to be ready when the recruiter's arrived. 
   
   Dick flipped into a sitting position on the mattress, grabbed a pair of trousers and swung his legs through them in one fluid motion.   Standing up, he examined his shirtless, strapping profile in the mirror. The broad shoulders, narrow cobble-stoned waist, jet-black hair, and remorseless gray eyes would well suit a dime store romance cover.  His oversized nose, and hands were a fitting complement to an organ of similar proportion. 

   Dick nodded in satisfaction and smirked as he once again beat his mirrored twin at rock paper scissors.  But the smirk was quickly replaced by concern as he noticed something limp and wet sticking to the back of his arm.   A few seconds regard ushered in comprehension.  His smoking hot girlfriend Peaches had slipped in a few hours back for one last enthusiastic interlude of passion.  Afterwords, he must have rolled over onto the rubber he had used (inside out for his pleasure of course) during their lovemaking.  Wait!  He had no time for such sentiment.  Dick stuffed his comb, smokes, dice and other necessities into pockets, pulled on a shirt and grabbed the oversized seaman's bag he had packed last night. 

   A distant alarm was triggered in Dick's olfactory apparatus as he descended the stairs. Something was burning.  At the kitchen table, his father was slumped over in slumber, his face nestled in a book.  Titus Groan it said on the binding.  Dick was hardly surprised.   

   Smoke was starting to thread its way out out of the oven.  Someone needed to change the batteries in the smoke alarm.  Dick calmly strode over and flipped off the power.  He opened the door to reveal a brace of giant butter pastries burning on a tray.  He placed the tray on the narrow strip of bare counter next to the sink and began contemplating how to salvage them.
   
   "Dicky!  I love you!  This will help!" squealed a child's voice and Dick turned around to be pelted on the chin by a high pressured aerosol stream of some sharp smelling viscous liquid.    His baby sister Pixley stood near him beaming with a massive can of Raid.  Holy shit!  A little higher and it would have been in his eyes.  Dick made a grab for the can, but Pixley dodged artfully and went hog on the trigger once more.

   Unfortunately, the evasive maneuvers had directed her aim toward breakfast.  A wave of heat sent Dick scrambling backwards as the lightly smoldering scones instantly metamorphosed into a roaring conflagration.  Pixley started screaming in terror and Dick heard footsteps pounding down the stairs.    His hands came across a frozen goose that had been laid aside to thaw.

   Holding the awkward bundle in two hands, Dick eyed the tray.  "Son I don't think that's a good idea" began his father, apparently having been roused awake.  But Dick didn't pause in his rush forwards.  In a matter of seconds he thoroughly removed the menace leaving only blackened crumbs and a rack of shattered crockery.  He had been gripping the fourteen pound goose underhand and one of the flames had managed to lick him, leading him to involuntarily launch it.

   "What do you think you are doing Richard Fitzer!" barked a matronly voice behind him.  "Just putting out dads mess again mother."  Matilda Fitzer surveyed the scene, and was duly impressed with her son's dispatching of two scones with one bird.  "I know you'll be well into training before we get to see you again.  I think there's time to fix you up your favorite before they pick you up."

   Ten minutes later, Dick was basking in the contented aftermath of a heaping serving of pop tarts and gravy.  A car pulled up in the driveway.  A man and a woman in white uniforms stepped out and began approaching the front door.  Dick gravely stood up and hugged his mother.  His sisters Holly and Pixley too.  He put his hands on his father's shoulders, looking down and locking eyes with him.  "You're the man of the house now Harold.  Take care of mother and the girls."  Dad nodded, gripped his hand and said "make us proud".

[JerusalemTulip]

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[JerusalemTulip]

I realized that a few lines in the seventh paragraph were missing, and italics didn't get picked up on the paste.  Sorry, reposting.       



         It was a bright and clear morning.  Dick Fitzer turned over in bed to escape from the sun's rude arms, but she was reluctant to forgo her embrace.  The back of his neck quickly began feeling like it was in a toaster.  Toast?  Oh right!  Breakfast!  He was shipping out today.  He had to hurry if he wanted to be ready when the recruiter's arrived. 
   
   Dick flipped into a sitting position on the mattress, grabbed a pair of trousers and swung his legs through them in one fluid motion.   Standing up, he examined his shirtless, strapping profile in the mirror. The broad shoulders, narrow cobble-stoned waist, jet-black hair, and remorseless gray eyes would well suit a dime store romance cover.  His oversized nose, and hands were a fitting complement to an organ of similar proportion. 

   Dick nodded in satisfaction and smirked as he once again beat his mirrored twin at rock paper scissors.  But the smirk was quickly replaced by concern as he noticed something limp and wet sticking to the back of his arm.   A few seconds regard ushered in comprehension.  His smoking hot girlfriend Peaches had slipped in a few hours back for one last enthusiastic interlude of passion.  Afterwords, he must have rolled over onto the rubber he had used (inside out for his pleasure of course) during their lovemaking.  Wait!  He had no time for such sentiment.  Dick stuffed his comb, smokes, dice and other necessities into pockets, pulled on a shirt and grabbed the oversized seaman's bag he had packed last night. 

   A distant alarm was triggered in Dick's olfactory apparatus as he descended the stairs. Something was burning.  At the kitchen table, his father was slumped over in slumber, his face nestled in a book.  Titus Groan it said on the binding.  Dick was hardly surprised. 

   Smoke was starting to thread its way out out of the oven.  Someone needed to change the batteries in the smoke alarm.  Dick calmly strode over and flipped off the power.  He opened the door to reveal a brace of giant butter pastries burning on a tray.  He placed the tray on the narrow strip of bare counter next to the sink and began contemplating how to salvage them.
   
   "Dicky!  I love you!  This will help!" squealed a child's voice and Dick turned around to be pelted on the chin by a high pressured aerosol stream of some sharp smelling viscous liquid.    His baby sister Pixley stood near him beaming with a massive can of Raid.  Holy shit!  A little higher and it would have been in his eyes.  Dick made a grab for the can, but Pixley dodged artfully and went hog on the trigger once more.

   Unfortunately, the evasive maneuvers had directed her aim toward breakfast.  A wave of heat sent Dick scrambling backwards as the lightly smoldering scones instantly metamorphosed into a roaring conflagration.  Pixley started screaming in terror and Dick heard footsteps pounding down the stairs.    The flames blocked access to the sink, and he started grasping desperately for something, anything to smother the flames and rescue breakfast.  His hands came across a frozen goose that had been laid aside to thaw.

   Holding the awkward bundle in two hands, Dick eyed the tray.  "Son I don't think that's a good idea" began his father, apparently having been roused awake.  But Dick didn't pause in his rush forwards.  In a matter of seconds he thoroughly removed the menace leaving only blackened crumbs and a rack of shattered crockery.  He had been gripping the fourteen pound goose underhand and one of the flames had managed to lick him, leading him to involuntarily launch it.

   "What do you think you are doing Richard Fitzer!" barked a matronly voice behind him.  "Just putting out dads mess again mother."  Matilda Fitzer surveyed the scene, and was duly impressed with her son's dispatching of two scones with one bird.  "I know you'll be well into training before we get to see you again.  I think there's time to fix you up your favorite before they pick you up."

   Ten minutes later, Dick was basking in the contented aftermath of a heaping serving of pop tarts and gravy.  A car pulled up in the driveway.  A man and a woman in white uniforms stepped out and began approaching the front door.  Dick gravely stood up and hugged his mother.  His sisters Holly and Pixley too.  He put his hands on his father's shoulders, looking down and locking eyes with him.  "You're the man of the house now Harold.  Take care of mother and the girls."  Dad nodded, gripped his hand and said "make us proud".

[ennuibomb]

Interesting to say the least. For some reason I was envisaging this as a 1950s black and white Leave It to Beaver sort of thing.

Same here. I'm definitely gonna checking in on this, my interest has been piqued.

[JerusalemTulip]

It has been so long since I started on this.  I know how I plan to continue it now, but it will involve an awkward transition.  I'm actually going to submit a different story first though.  My thanks to Ninjastar and Ennui for expressing interest in this.  Sorry for not acknowledging earlier.

[JerusalemTulip]

Note:  I'm under no illusions about this story.  The premise behind the growth is silly, there won't be much in the way of character development (keep in mind the story will span less than 24 hours), and the "dialogue" will consist mostly of messageboard wisecracking.  This is a female muscle story but it is first and foremost a homage to an internet contest on ESPN called Streak for the Cash.  That said, I wouldn't submit it if I thought there was no potential to entertain the average reader.

Stunt Day
by JerusalemTulip
______________________________

Part I

Brent settled down at his personal carrel desk. Its position and high walls safeguarded him against observation from every direction, and it was close to an AC outlet; altogether the best perk of being one of the editors of the sports law review at Green Acre law school.

He had entered the library almost as soon as it opened, but his only regular neighbor on this dusty wing, Suzy, was already hard at work on her gender law article. "Good Morning" he said softly, but she didn't look up from her desk. He camouflaged his desk surface with some random WestLaw printouts and well scribbled memo pads. He then plugged in his laptop, put on his earphones, pulled out his munchies and embarked on his real agenda for the day.

Streak for the Cash was having its first stunt day in months.  There were twenty-two props on the big board, and Brent estimated that fifteen to sixteen correct consecutive picks would suffice to make him the day's champion.  He could be the happy winner of both $10,000 and celebrity status among the surprisingly numerous denizens of the streaking community.

As Brent navigated to the SFTC homepage and logged in, he started tossing around possibilities for a new entry name.  He habitually changed it as an attempted good luck mechanism; he also used it as a means of communication among fellow streakers when the chat boards were down.  However, he had been playing for seven years now, and the band of high school friends whom he had started playing with had gradually lost interest and stopped picking.  The group finally folded a few months back.

On a lark, he typed in "women plz buff up" as his new entry name.  He was an admirer of muscular women, but was not comfortable admitting this to anyone for fear that they wouldn't understand.  A case in point would be Sunday nights when his crew of buddies came over to watch Game of Thrones (he was the only one of them with HBO).  There was a female knight on the show named Brienne who was conspicuously tall and robust, though not really muscular.  She was referred to by them as a freak.  They seemed to think Renly a fitting paramour since only a "homo" would be into women like that.

Sometimes Brent thought about pointing out that Brienne was pretty, and if they had met her on the town with long hair and a dress they would be trying to hit that.  Of course he never did anything of the sort.  His support for women who dared to defy convention and make themselves strong extended only to meaningless gestures like the entry name.  No one would ever catch him risking linking his credit card to anything vaguely connected to female muscle, attending a competition, sharing pics of the women in the booths when the harsh glare of stage light and oils weren't distorting their appearance.  With the demise of the group, no one would ever see this entry name and know about it, ask him about it.  With champions like Brent, it was no surprise that the number of would be Cory Eversons shrank year after year. 

**

W1

With the name change out of the way, Brent could focus on making his first selection. The first prop involved association football.  "Will a goal be scored in the 1st half of Leicester City vs Newcastle United?"

This was probably Brent's weakest sport, and he did not try to analyze this pick. He flipped a coin, the result was tails, and he accordingly selected "No". He then selected the match on a streaming site, (after making sure his adblocker was functioning properly) and decided to lurk on the prop message board, in case someone dropped helpful information.

Armchairpropchaser: "First!"
Reply from LouisVuitton: "Virgin!"

Unimaginativetroll: "Is Rooney playing?"
Reply from Loup:  "What was his bail set at?"

MultipleEntryDude: "Red the wild wooly sheep! I can't believe 93.4% of you morons think a goal will be scored. Do you ever watch soccer?

Ballsacrossmynose: "You can get the pick for this and every soccer match at the Bunny's blog."

CatAvatarGuy1million: "Locked!"

Ten minutes in...

Lazyguy: "Score?"
Reply from 133tpwn2003: "Wit yo mom!"
Reply from undersexed: "rare dry spell for me"
Reply from Noonegetsmyjokes: "I prefer Topps and Fleer myself."

Brevity:  Odds?
Reply from Wiisearcher:  1,3,5,7,9.  Hope this helps.

Thatsoneblackkettle:  "The same crowd of losers in here day in and day out. Do any of you have jobs?  Any plans to move out of Mommy's basement? How about a little game called Work for the Cash?

At the forty five minute mark the match remained scoreless; one minute of stoppage time was announced.

BigFatLiar: "GOOOOAAALLLL"
Reply from Lookatmytoddlerspicture: "TROOOLLLL"

The official blew the whistle.

"Green Me!" said Brent to himself. He was on a W1 now, and was already ahead of The Architect and over 90% of the other streakers for the prize.
His mental celebration was interrupted by a moaning sound. 
"Sorry" said Suzy, her face turning very red. 
"Its like I just had a shot of adrenaline.  I feel so alive right now, so full of vitality and whatnot.  Oh sorry I'll let you get back to work.  I think I was stuck up until now, but I now know that I can finish this article today."

**

W2

"Wow" thought Brent to himself. Suzy hadn't spared this many words for him all semester, and he wished that the chat could have continued. She was quite attractive, despite her general lack of care to her appearance. He often sneaked glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking, but hadn't ever mustered the courage to seek more than a nodding acquaintance with her. He always tried to justify this by the fact that they were in a library, and she seemed to be both focused on her work, and shy.

The next prop involved tennis. "Maria Sharapova vs Ana Ivanovic-Will there be a break during the first three games?"

Brent certainly looked forward to this one, they were both so hot. He selected "Yes", switched the stream to tennis, and then tuned in to the board for further insight.

NoGirlfriend: "Maria has caused me to spill more seed than Muhammad Ali at a birdfeeder."

Iliveoffdisability: "These babes grunt so loud when they play, my neighbors think I'm watching porn!"

YesImagirl: "You people are disgusting."
Reply from DogAvatarGuy1jillion: "CATFISH!!!!!"
Reply from 133tpwn2003: "Make me a sandwich!"
Reply from MynameaintToby: "You people?"

Maria double-faulted three times in her first service game and was easily broken.

"Awesome!" thought Brent.  Another 70% of streakers had tripped up.  If he could keep it up for a few more picks he would be on the leaderboard.  He distractedly noted that Ana double-faulted on her first two service points as well.  She didn't hit the net, but instead was well long of the service line and serving with a pace he didn't know she had.  She had always had toned arms, but there was now a sleek, slender but hard looking bicep on her arm.  He figured she must have been hitting the gym lately, and hadn't adjusted to her new strength yet.

**

W3

The next prop involved Golf. "Will this group (Tiger, Els, Mickelson) combine for an even or odd number of birdies on hole 1 (par 5)?"

The status report clarified that "a result of no birdies will be considered even". Brent decided to go with the majority and pick even.

Eldrick and Ernie both bogeyed. Hefty's two foot putt for birdie would decide the prop. Brent was nervous, unless Phil inexplicably missed this, he would have to start all over. His eyes were glued to shottracker as it updated to indicate the result of the putt... "Unknown distance to unknown". "What the hell?" wondered Brent as he switched back to the message board.

minigamesmatter: "LOL LOL LOL LOL"
Reply from retainperspective: "All you ever post is LOL."
Reply from minigamesmatter: "You stopped picking in my minigames groups, you are dead to me."

Imsmarterthanyou: "BOOOOMMMMM! Moobs is such a choker!"

A pleasurable intake of breath from Suzy's direction broke the silence. Brent looked up to see Suzy sitting with her back to him. Her arms were held out to the sides and she was twisting her torso in a vigorous stretch. She looked...different somehow. Her thin gray sweater looked tighter, her back was wider, with a fluid mosaic of small bumps shifting in interesting patterns under the sweater's surface, and her shoulders seemed capped rather than slumped and rounded. Suzy stood up and turned around to face him with her eyes closed in rapture.

Again, what he saw conflicted with his memories. Suzy seemed a couple inches taller than he remembered, he quickly checked for heels, and realized she had actually kicked her shoes off. Her chest hadn't been much to speak of, but now there was an actual small pair of sweater kittens moving in time with her deep breaths, and the faint outline of abs as she reached skyward during her stretching. Suzy opened her eyes and Brent dashed his head back down under the cover of the carrel walls.

"We always know" said Suzy in a playful voice.

"Forgive me Suzy, were you talking to me?" said Brent as he pulled the earphones out and feigned that he had been engrossed in something productive.

"Girls always know when guys are checking them out. It's okay; you're cute so I'm actually flattered. After all I've been sneaking peeks at you too all year. Isn't it silly for us to keep up this game? If you're still here when I'm done with this, let's go grab a bite to eat, and start getting to know one another for real. Well?"

"You just made my day." confessed Brent.  Suzy rewarded him with a delighted smile.

**

W4

The next prop involved women's NCAA basketball. Maryland @ Duke – Will either team score 40+ points in the first half? Yes or No.

Brent wasn't sure about this one. He looked up the team pages on the Eastern Sports Program Network's website and saw that both teams were averaging slightly over 80 pts per game. Something didn't seem right about that, but he put it out of mind for the moment and selected yes. He wasn't normally one to second guess a pick, but hazarded checking out the message boards again.

PaulfromSF: "What would Daniel Bryan recommend?"

UncleR: "Think about it guys. Between cooking, washing dishes and folding laundry, how will these girls find the time to score 35 pts? The prop ought to be about which team will miss 35 layups first."
Reply from YesImagirl: "Cool it moron. Both of these teams beat at least one male team during preseason exhibitions."
Reply from AlphaVixen: "My hubby does all the cooking and cleaning in our house. I out-earned him significantly before convincing him of the two income trap.  Twenty-five percent of households are the same way, and the gap is narrowing."

Brent didn't know what to make of this discussion. He knew there were some househusbands scattered around, his own brother was one. But that percentage seemed way too high.

Brent streamed ESPN3 to watch the match.  The speed, power, and agility of these women blew him away.  "What's in the water at these campuses?" he wondered.  These girls all looked like elite cross fit contestants...really tall ones.  He saw green with five minutes to spare as Maryland's 5'11" point guard stole an inbound pass, raced toward the hoop, soared nearly four feet into the air and authoritatively dunked.  She clung to the rim with one arm and started doing pull-ups.  Her already respectably muscled arm started approaching the size and definition of many male players as she effortlessly hoisted herself up and down.

**

W5

The next prop involved hockey. Flames@Rangers: What will occur first? An icing or a save?

"This is sadism" thought Brent to himself. A very slight majority of streakers had selected icing so far, but Brent wasn't sure how much weight to give this. "I had better check out the boards to see if anyone is sharing stats on this."

Iwhineaboutfreegames: "FU streak master"

The other posts were mostly variations on this. His gut told him that this was one of those moments when he had to zig where others zagged. Without much confidence he selected Save.

Two minutes in...

Ilovemysoupfork: What quarter are they in?
Reply from SportsGoddess99: "Please consider contraceptives."

In the third minute, Martin St Louis pounced on a lost puck and got a one on one with Calgary's goalie. He shot a laser beam toward the top right corner of the net, which glanced off the post for a short distance, coming to rest a few feet outside the crease. The goalie was sprawled on his back from the attempted save, and had lost his stick. St Louis's momentum had allowed him to collect the rebound and the net was at his mercy. He shot, and the commentator announced "Molly Schaus makes a miracle reflex save with her pads! She stood on her head to keep the Flames even!"

.490lifetime: "Green the Researchers!!!"

"Yes!  W5 and a redstar!  But who is Molly Schaus?" wondered Brent.  "What happened to Ramo?"  "Wait, a woman is in net for the Flames?"

**

W6

The next prop involved the NBA.  Clippers@Rockets:  Who will miss more free throws during the fourth quarter?  Deandre Jordan or Dwight Howard?

The easy way to see green would be to pick the one whose team would be leading during the final minutes.  Other factors went into consideration, such as whether one was more likely to sit on the bench with fouls.  Unfortunately, there was only a minute to go in the third quarter, and the teams were neck and neck.  Each player had committed four personals.  He decided to go with Dwight.

Grouchy:  "Every prop is garbage ever since they brought back the million dollar prize."
Reply from Hoopsgoddess:  "Whatever, I think SM is hilarious.  He's a troll...but this is awesome."

Somewhat surprisingly, DJ and Howard didn't factor very much down the stretch.  Instead each team gave most of the minutes to their female backups.  They didn't quite meet the sharpshooting bigmen in size (though almost) but they displayed much better skill: defending and rebounding cleanly without fouling; blocking without goal tending; passing to the open player on the perimeter. 

Hoopsgoddess:  "This is ridiculous!  When the women are in possession, the men are elbow-titting them mercilessly and the refs never call it.  Otherwise they'd relegate these two clowns to the bench permanently."

Eventually Brent got his W6.  Dwight missed four of six FT's compared to DJ missing 3 of 4.

**

W7
The next prop involved MLS (major league soccer).  New York Red Bulls @ New England Revolution.  Will the match start on time?  Yes or no?

"Finally an easy one" thought Brent to himself as he and one hundred percent of streakers picked no.  "Easiest ever" he exulted quietly as he finally managed to debut on the leaderboard at 94th.  Some streakers had probably held off, thinking that the prop was too good to be true.

**

W8

The next prop involved the world's second most popular sport. Indian Premier League (Cricket) – Royal Challengers Bangalore @ Chennai Super Kings – What will occur first: Five Boundary Fours or One Boundary Six?

Brent wasn't an avid follower of the league, and didn't think he had time to try and look up statistical trends for this himself. He knew it was time to return to the boards. Roughly Eighty-five percent favored five fours.

AmyAtalanta: Chennai will be batting first. Statistically they average about six and a half times more fours than sixes, but I'm skipping. Their star batswoman, Indira Khan, hit seven sixes off a single over last week.
Reply from SwoleSister: Yeah, but Aishwarya Gandhi has been limiting opposition to under 125 runs on average. I can see Chennai picking up some fours, but no sixes.

Unimaginativetroll: If you pick on this, you will be locked in for days.
Reply from Duckworth-Lewis: This is T20 not a test match. In any case, it will be over in a half hour or less.

Brent eventually concluded that someone of Indira's reputed raw power should manage at least one six, even if overmatched by the bowler. He frantically prayed that it happened before five fours and selected Six.

Brent began settling down to follow the match on flashscore, but at last the doubts building up in his subconscious boiled over. He devoted a ridiculous amount of his time toward watching, tracking and betting on the sports world. There was no way that women could have slipped into the NHL and NBA, be outscoring men in college bball, or become ubiquitous in professional cricket without his awareness. Anytime that women advanced closer to parity with men in athletics, be it equal pay at the Grand Slams, or Danica Patrick racing with men, this news was certain to hit the airwaves with traumatic force.

Equally perplexing was the gradual progression throughout the morning of purportedly female streakers on the boards. The tennis prop board had one lone poster with a female silhouette on her avatar, and she had been rudely mobbed by the board regulars. The attempt to belittle women's basketball had however been neatly riposted. The discussion on the cricket board had been dominated by women, and Brent had to admit that these women were more articulate and focused on the matter at hand than the earlier crowd. Most of the regulars seemed to show up purely to troll and ply a captive audience with lame jokes in the hopes of getting likes. He had always idly speculated that there was some sort of Batman troll light that streak master shined under bridges, to signal them to log on and annoy everyone with their amateurish posturing.

Brent wondered if perhaps one long elaborate prank was being pulled on streakers by the mysterious streak master. He could have instructed the moderators to pose as females and make up information on the boards. But this hypothesis had too many flaws. There was no obvious motivation for the SM to do this. Streakmaster's uncanny consistency in setting up sheep slaughters on seemingly fail proof props had even the most skeptical streakers wondering if he possessed a 2050 copy of Gray's Sports Almanac. Yet Brent didn't think SM had the ability to impose a bogus lineup on flashscore for the cricket teams. It was unlikely that SM could have fooled the NHL commentators into thinking a woman was in net, nor convinced them to join the plot. And those basketball girls looked incredible...maybe he should think of transferring... except that Suzy was looking real good today also.

On that note, Brent got up to approach Suzy's desk to check on how much progress she was making with her journal article and ask her what she knew about female advances in hockey and cricket. Curiously, her desk was unoccupied. Her work product was still littering the surface, so he figured she had probably stepped out to use the phone or the ladies room.  As Brent continued to examine Suzy's desk, the eerie feeling of displacement he had been feeling all morning refused to fade. On her desk shelf where various dainty nibblers had been stored all semester, there were now tubs of creatine and whey and assorted protein bars.

"Boo!" exclaimed someone behind him sharply in a smoky voice pitched not to carry. Brent was already under the strain of nervous tension from snooping, and reflexively jumped into the air, losing his balance upon landing. Yet a strong pair of hands caught him, kept him from falling on the floor and gently set him on his feet. Brent turned around to thank whoever it was, but the words died on his lips as he stared in amazement at the one who rendered him assistance.

Suzy stood in front of him; hand over mouth and convulsing in laughter. At least he thought it was Suzy. This girl had the same kind brown eyes, delicate straight nose, and unblemished olive skin, but the similarities ended there. The top of her head used to come up to his chin, and now she was standing in sneakers and looking ever so slightly down on him. The most dramatic change however was in her physique. Earlier in the day, he had noted that Suzy looked fitter and deeper chested than he had ever realized, but no longer could inattention, bad lighting, or concealing clothing account for the difference between past and current perception.

She had always had a long graceful neck, but this was now escorted at its base by sloping traps.  Sleeveless activewear had replaced her sweater, leaving her shoulders and arms bare. Those shoulders which once could conceivably have squeezed through a cruise ship cabin's porthole now looked to be half again wider than his. Brent could see individual muscles rippling in her shoulders and chest as she struggled to hold back her laughter. Her upper arms had clearly defined heads on both biceps and triceps, and even at rest looked larger and harder than those of any other fellow student that he could recall. A thick vein snaked across her arms and shoulders and drew his eyes to her powerful chest.

Suzy's breasts were an A cup at the start of the day, and had now progressed into at least C's. The change in raw size was augmented by the lift and support provided by her thick pectoral muscles. A clear line separated the right side of her chest from the left. Both chambers protruded perhaps three inches into space and Brent suspected she could easily double his best bench press mark. She now had visible lats flanking her chest, giving the impression of a cobra's hood, and exaggerating the V-taper of her torso.

The outline of her abdominal cavity beneath her clinging top was no longer faint. That too small top had resulted in an inch of midriff and the bottom of her clearly defined eight-pack was visible. Her trunk and waist remained narrow in proportion to her shoulders, but had thickened with an array of obliques.

Earlier in the morning, Suzy had, like most of the girls, been wearing long soft leggings tucked into a pair of white Uggs. She now wore a pair of gym shorts that exposed a generous amount of her awe-inspiring legs. The rugged, twitching mass of her rectal, lateral, and medial quad heads looked capable of squatting his Hyundai. They looked hard enough to give Bo Jackson a stiff challenge in bat breaking. (Fortunately, her patella had also seemed to have expanded and strengthened to support all of the mass pressing down on it.) Her heart-shaped calves flared out from behind her tibia, clearly visible even from the front.

"So...do I pass inspection?" she asked. There was a clear hint of more laughter in her voice, but also suppressed delight and satisfaction. Brent realized that he had been staring slack jawed at her for God only knows how long. He was one of those rare twenty-something men who could still blush, and he could feel the heat suffusing his cheeks while mentally picturing himself in one of those Southwest Airlines getaway fare commercials.
Brent admired beauty in all its forms and expressions, and was quite attracted to Suzy before seeing any hint of muscle on her, but that attraction had now intensified by leaps and bounds. Nothing was sexier to him than the sight of a strong and fit woman, and Suzy looked stronger and fitter than any woman he had ever seen. A figure whose elegant and slender grace had once moved him to quiet delight, had transformed into a figure whose visible expression of power, sturdiness and vitality set his heart beating three hundred times a minute; rushing super-heated blood to both of his heads. He recalled the consummate ease with which she had caught and held him suspended in midair. There was no pinching of him by her hands, no uncomfortable pressure directed against their points of contact. He had been held as easily and gently as one would hold a sleeping ball of cat and the strength necessary for this feat made him feel deliciously safe and secure. This train of thought combined with the visual stimulus of Suzy's physique had his penis straining to escape the confinement of his briefs.

"You, uh you're looking...(I need to get to the bottom of this somehow) how did you get taller and buffer than me?"

It was now Suzy's turn to stare at him in confusion.

"You're acting like you've never seen me before. I've always been a little bit taller than you, ever since we met at first year orientation. It is true that I've made amazing gains in the past two years at the gym (she looked down and smiled in satisfaction as she bounced her pecs) but I already had bigger, stronger muscles than you; most of us girls do."

Brent didn't know what to say or think. Was he in a dream? Was he waking up from a dream? Did his roommate slip something inappropriate into his munchies? At that moment, the mobile alert chimed on his phone, indicating that the cricket prop had been resolved. Simultaneously, Suzy's body seemed to expand an inch in every direction.

"Uhhmmm that high from lifting feels so good" purred Suzy, "You should come with me to the gym sometime and watch me get buffer" she said with a wink. "I have a bit of a head start on you (she did a double bicep flex and footballs made flesh swelled seemingly larger than Clay Matthews's) but wouldn't it be fun to try and catch up? Only one of your muscles seems to be in competitive shape right now" she said with a pointed glance toward his groin.

"I was just joking about being bigger than you. I can't believe how much progress you've made. Keep in mind too that every time I look at you, you take my breath away and I end up lightheaded " said Brent in an attempt to cover.

Suzy's dazzling smile seemed to indicate that it worked, or at least she didn't care to press him on the matter. He backed up toward his desk to cover his erection behind his chair.

"Are you still up for some grub Suzy?"

"Definitely. I should be done with this first draft in just a couple hours. How about we go to the End Zone? They've got great pizza and we can catch some SportsCenter."

"Did you just read my mind?"

"Sweetie I'm just getting started."

* * * * * * *

Another interesting concept. I like unusual takes on familiar themes. Well done. Is this it or is there more?

There will be a part 2 soon to wrap things up .  I've got a lot of possible events for Brent's streak to be tested on, but I haven't actually decided whether he'll win yet, nor exactly how far I want things to swing.

[fbbsmmh]

This is one of those stories that would be good if it wasn't unnecessarily complicated and confusing. It almost feels like there is no real link between the plot of the story and suzy's muscles. Maybe it's because I'm not American, never heard of this programme and find it utterly moronic, (the programme not the story) but I just find the 'dialogue' boring and difficult to follow. I found myself skipping to the muscle parts because the context just didn't interest me. Maybe for future projects, simplicity could be a better approach? You certainly have a knack for muscle descriptions, but when I find a plot as dull as I find this one, I won't stay reading long enough to enjoy it unfortunately. Just my opinion though.

[JerusalemTulip]

This is one of those stories that would be good if it wasn't unnecessarily complicated and confusing. It almost feels like there is no real link between the plot of the story and suzy's muscles. Maybe it's because I'm not American, never heard of this programme and find it utterly moronic, (the programme not the story) but I just find the 'dialogue' boring and difficult to follow. I found myself skipping to the muscle parts because the context just didn't interest me. Maybe for future projects, simplicity could be a better approach? You certainly have a knack for muscle descriptions, but when I find a plot as dull as I find this one, I won't stay reading long enough to enjoy it unfortunately. Just my opinion though.

As to a link between the game and the muscles, its not really my style, but I'll be including a heavy tell paragraph in part 2 to try and make explicit what Brent thinks is going on.  If you're confused, I expect others might be too.  The growth aspect of the story is inspired by classics (the familiar themes Ninjastar refers to) such as Marknew's 'Matt and Emma' or Arconomicon's(?) 'Runaway Train'.  Its magic.  The problem I suspect is that I didn't have the protagonist explicitly make a wish or acquire a magical artifact.  Well he actually did make a wish right there at the beginning, and the platform he did it on explains why it is connected to the game, but I admit it could have been emphasized more.

Yeah, I skip to the muscle parts of stories fairly often too, but in my case, it is usually the result of everything feeling the same. 

Yes the game is moronic  .  It is also highly addictive, and I wrote this story as a labor of love.  With Progressive Insurance and Hot Pockets having departed, the game is in its death throes without a sponsor.  A real artist is unlikely to try and immortalize the game in some creative form, so you're stuck with me.

The 'dialogue' will be boring to many because humor is probably the hardest thing for people to find common ground on.  A lot of the humor is admittedly low brow, and even when not, it is tied to a shared background.  If you never collected baseball cards as a kid, that joke will be over your head.  You'll miss another one if you don't retain a fairly detailed memory of the film "Back to the Future".  You'll miss another if you haven't been following professional wrestling the last few years.  There are Easter eggs even within the ridiculous user names (The "Roots" miniseries among others).  And yes, being British will make it much less likely to recognize these.

[fbbsmmh]

Hey, as I say, just my view. Not being familiar with the game or anything about it, the plot just had no pull for me. Glad you took it in the spirit it was intended. Hey if this is a labour of love for you, then that's all that matters and so long as you keep giving us more of Suzy and her big sexy muscles, I won't complain.  As for British people not getting the concept, not being British I wouldn't know. Maybe if someone British posts on the thread, you can ask them?

[snowman7]

Strange, unique and well written.  While I agree it was hard to follow I stuck with it anyway and enjoyed the last part (of course, that's where the growth is).

I hope you continue.  The girls can always go bigger.

[JerusalemTulip]

@NinjaStar  - Glad someone liked the Maria line, I wasn't sure how it would play.
@fbbsmh - Sorry for mistaken nationality, I guess your spelling was throwing me off.
@snowman7 - Thanks for posting.  I really should have included a concise rundown of the game's rules at the beginning if I wanted this to work better I guess.  I thought dribbling out details over time would suit pacing better, but it isn't easy on a reader.

Anyway the length of the story has kind of mushroomed on me.  This section will (mostly) conclude the SFTC event and messageboard portion of the story.  There will also be a short part 3 of a dinner date from Suzy's perspective and a short part 4 with the resolution.  Part 3 is done too, but I think I'm going to release it contemporaneously with 4 (when I finish it) since 3 doesn't have much in the way of "fixes".

Part 2

The two of them returned to their respective tasks. Suzy was working on her article, while Brent sat down to try and determine if he had lost his marbles.

Brent didn't think that he was dreaming. Dreams had a different feel to them; the few that he could remember had seemed very episodic with an inability to direct his thoughts and actions in directions that didn't fit with the dream's theme.

Similarly, he didn't think he was crazy. He wasn't certain what being crazy would feel like, but thinking too much about it would open up such a can of worms that it might actually drive him crazy if he weren't already. He preferred to believe that something had changed or was changing Suzy and other women.

He did a google search which seemed to indicate that the median woman's height in the USA was now 5'11" and her weight 180. Men actually seemed to have gotten a bit smaller. The median height remained at 5"10 but median weight was now 165. Also the deviation from standard height and weight had increased dramatically in women and receded dramatically in men. He theorized that if women had picked up an extra forty pounds or so of mass, there might not have been enough food around to keep men as big as they were in his memories. If with their greater size women had shared, or even taken the lead in physical endeavors, there would be less pressure on men to be big.

A short scan of Wikipedia seemed to confirm that all of recorded history reflected this balance between the genders. Politically and socially, women and men were mostly equal. Women had fought alongside men on battlefields. The laboring and learned professions were equally divided between the sexes. Queens had reigned at approximately the same frequency of Kings, with the most popular, most cunning, or strongest child of either gender succeeding the previous ruler.

A part of Brent now remembered that stunt day was still going on. He knew the cricket prop had ended a few minutes ago and needed to confirm whether it was in his favor, and if so make his next pick. Chennai had indeed covered the prop and he was on a W8.

Finally Brent had his epiphany. He had witnessed Suzy experiencing physical growth at the same instant that this prop had been decided in his favor. He didn't think that it could be a coincidence. As his streak grew, so did she, along with other women in the world, now and throughout history. Since the changes were affecting both the past and the present, Suzy would have no memory of being smaller than him. Men would not remember being bigger than women. It was difficult to determine why he retained his memories of how things used to be, but it might be because his entry was serving as the vehicle of change.

W9

He needed to test his theory out once more to be sure. The next prop involved baseball. Philadelpia Phillies @ Atlanta Braves – How many batters will strike out in the top of the first inning? 2 or more or 1 or fewer?

The starting pitcher for the Braves was Jenny Finch. He had remembered her being a star on the women's national softball team, but the changes would of course have enabled her to compete with the men in baseball. Hell, maybe she could have changes or no. He started streaming the game and checked out the boards.

Memsaab: Jenny is striking out roughly 12 batters per 9 innings. I would however lean toward 2+ because the Phillies lead the league in pitches seen. Jenny is usually around the plate and I expect to see some 0-2 counts.

Offtopic: This site should provide some option to type a backward K.

Statsgirl: This lineup is batting .354 lifetime against Jenny. She has given up runs in the first inning against Philly four of the five times she has faced them. Go with fewer.

Streakers as a whole favored fewer by seventy-three percent yet Brent resolved to pick 2+. The cricket prop had crashed the leaderboard and allowed him to move up to 29th. If he were slow playing for the million dollar prize, he would certainly skip this, but he knew that no one would ever get a w40, and he was too addicted to pass up a chance at winning stunt day.

The long and strong (6'7"according to Philly's roster page) Jenny's first pitch was a fastball that painted the black on the low outside corner at one hundred and three miles per hour. That gas helped set up her second pitch, a twelve to six curve at seventy-one miles per hour that Melvin Upton flailed helplessly at; indeed his swing appeared complete before the ball crossed the plate. Unfortunately, she may have been gripping the seams too tightly on her split-finger as the third pitch jerked way inside and nailed him on the ankle. "At least it wasn't an out" thought Brent to himself as Upton took his base. "Fuck!" he swore under his breath with the next pitch as Angela Bonnett grounded out weakly to third base and was unable to beat out the 5-4-3 double play.

Volleyballhead: "GREEN THE SMART PEOPLE RIGHT NOW SM!!!"

Brent had lost his streak. With only ten picks left on the board (he had actually skipped three of the earlier props) there was no chance to win stunt day. The leader had miraculously picked correctly on all eleven so far, and was about to be at W12 as soon as SM unlocked this one, in fact all except six of the twenty-eight entries in front of him were about to see green.

Keyboardwarrior: "Get off the toilet SM and unlock this!"

7years0dollars: "The right pick loses again!"

FormerSatellite: "You realize this isn't over right?"

Meanwhile, Jenny had gotten to a two strike count on Freddy Freeman. She tried to finish him off with the splitter again. This time the batter was fooled, but the ball ended up in the dirt and skipped past the catcher to the backstop. Freeman put his head down and motored toward first, as Darla Miller chased down the errant pitch and fired it toward Ryan Howard. Freeman's foot landed on the bag a split second before the ball hit Howard's glove. "Safe" called the umpire.

FormerSatellite "Only need one more. Come on Jenny!"

Brent breathed a sigh of relief. He had forgotten that a four out inning could occur under these extremely rare circumstances. Jenny now needed to strikeout the next batter. The cleanup hitter Lauren Haegar was among the league leaders in most offensive categories, and was a rare two-way star that played right field on days she didn't pitch.

Brent had always felt that most male players didn't look right in baseball uniforms; they looked like they were wearing pajamas. Lauren and Jenny and the other women on the field were different though.  Much like with Suzy, Lauren's additional mass didn't make her look blocky. Instead, the uniform only served to accentuate the powerful, sweeping curves of her thighs, hips, butt and chest.  It looked right on her.  Along with beauty, women now physically projected reassuring strength, size, and capability.

The battle between these titans began with a backdoor breaking ball that caught the inside corner, though one didn't need to be able to read lips to know that Lauren thought it was a bit high. Jenny clearly respected Lauren's power potential and unsuccessfully attempted to nibble outside with a pair of two-seam fastballs. Jenny came back with another breaking ball that she hung over the middle of the plate and Lauren crushed it into the upper deck...but nearly fifty feet foul. Another splitter bounced into the dirt and Freeman advanced to second uncontested. Payoff pitch coming up, Brent suspected it would be a four-seamer; it was the only thing she could throw for a strike today and no pitcher liked getting beaten on inferior offerings.

Jenny ignored the runner on second, and shook off the first two bogus signs from the catcher.  She gave up trying to pitch from the stretch and went into a full windup.  Lauren looked menacing in her open and upright stance, her broad shoulders coiled like tensing springs, and tapping her lead left foot like a slow metronome.  Jenny's muscular left leg drew back and dipped forward, her right knee almost touched the rubber as she released the ball at the apex of the delivery.  Lauren uncoiled and swung out of her shoes.  Brent couldn't track the pitch.  In an instant it was in the catcher's mitt with a thunk audible even to the TV audience.  The scoreboard radar read 109 miles per hour.  Darla gingerly removed her mitt upon reaching the dugout and put ice on a sprained hand. 

Brent was now on a W9 and had moved up 22 spots on the leaderboard to seventh. 

**

W10

The next prop involved Track and Field. World Track and Field Championships Doha Qatar – women's 100m Final. Will the Champion finish in under 9.2 seconds? Yes or No?

Brent's research indicated that a sub 9.2 second finish would represent a new record for humanity. Usain Bolt was the male record holder at 9.58 while Florence Griffith Joyner's record time of 9.22 still stood for the women. The two favorites to win today were Shelley-Ann-Fraser and Carmelita Jeter. Doha was regarded as a fast track, and the current weather report indicated that there would be a slight wind at the racer's back. Fraser in particular was reported to be showing remarkable progress in training. The diminutive (for a woman) sprinter at +135 was regarded by Vegas as having a shot at the record, with Jeter at a much less likely +230.

The only stream available for this event was on a subscription service that required a VPN to access from the USA. His best bet for live updates was to head back to the boards and hope that someone there had access.

Cindy7825: 90% on No seems real high for these odds.
Reply from EgglessOmelette: That record has stayed intact this long for a reason.

Eyesontheprize: Warmups are over. That wind is picking up, the flags are snapping. I'm picking yes, but even if the record is broken it probably won't count.
Reply from Yourcompetition: Nice try. I won't fall for it.

Brent resolved to pick Yes. Maybe that post about the wind was a lie, but he had a feeling that this day was going to continue showcasing advances in female achievement. The preview link had now changed to in progress and he would know in a few minutes whether his streak was still alive.

EddieMush: "NO IS A MORTAL LOCK!!!"
"Yes"!!!!! exulted Brent while giving Eddie a mental high five.
Reply from Cindy7825: "crap!"
Reply from EgglessOmelette: "shit!"
Reply from Lurkingintherushes: "damn!"
Reply from Imsmarterthanyou: "Do you twits actually believe in jinxes?"

EddieMush: "HANG IN THERE NO!!"

A few minutes later...

LaTonya2015: "Shelley did it! You go girl!!"

EgglessOmelette: "FU Eddie."

Brent was now on a W10 and had earned his first blue star of the calendar year.  Two more entries on the leaderboard had crashed out.  "Women Plz Buff Up", with his user name underneath, was now fifth on the stunt day leaderboard and featured on the right hand side of the SFTC homepage for all to see.  He took a screenshot in exultation, never having believed that this day would actually arrive. 

Brent was nervous now, he had skipped two props in a row (15 out of 22 were now completed) and was running out of chances to add to his streak before the day was done.  He felt he had chosen wisely, the props had been basically coin flips and indeed the closest challengers ended up wiping out on one or the other.  Yet the leader's streak was still intact at twelve.  Brent couldn't stop himself from biting at the next one.

**

W11

The next prop took Brent back to the baseball game. Philadelphia Fillies @ Atlanta Amazons Will a Home Run be hit anytime during the second through fourth innings? Yes or No. 

His subconscious alerted him that some important detail had changed yet again, but he focused on researching the prop.  Who am I kidding? Brent thought to himself.  Everything he thought he knew about sports kept evolving today.  He was at the mercy of whatever the board had figured out about this one.  Despite seeking a career in advocacy, Brent's verbal judo still left much to be desired, and he was very apprehensive about interacting on the boards.

BrentLaw2016:  "Hi y'all!  Care to help me out with some advice here?"
Reply from GracieGuns: "Is your avatar really a photo of you?  You are so cute, but everyone knows there are no guys on sports sites."
Reply from GymratJane:  "Seriously, is your girlfriend picking for you?  If not, that is so hot!
Reply from Mistressofthefirm:  "So you're studying to be a paralegal?  You go guy!  My little husband was one too."

Da Fuck?

BrentLaw2016:  "Thanks creepers!  Gracie I think that word (everyone) doesn't mean what you think it does.  Jane, you know she isn't.  You need brass balls to be on the leaderboard.  Cool story mistress! Green Acre-dean's list."

DominaDawn:  "What a little butch.  Making it into the affirmative action quota has fooled him into thinking he's got ovaries."
Reply from BrentLaw2016:  "Sounds like someone found a gray hair this morning, and it wasn't on her head." 
Reply from GracieGuns:  "LOL"
Reply from GymRatJane:  "This one's got some spunk."
Reply from DominaDawn:  "So sensitive.  We're just having some fun with you since baseball takes forever.
Reply from BrentLaw2016:  "Write your memoirs.  It should take you all of five minutes."
Reply from DominaDawn:  "Nice entry name loser.  I like making little muscle sluts like you squeal."
Reply from BrentLaw2016:  "Thanks!  That will keep me warm at night.  If I wanted any lip from you I'd rattle my zipper."

GracieGuns:  "Wish I had some popcorn."

DominaDawn:  "Damn...are you single?  You've got a PM."

Yuck.  What is wrong with these girls?  Is every man on the planet a wuss now?  I've really got to do something about that entry.

Wait, Fillies and Amazons?  Sure enough, a check of the rosters revealed no men.  He checked population facts on Google again.  The median woman was now 6' 1" and 215 pounds, the median man was 5'9" and 155 pounds.  Thankfully, he himself hadn't shrank.  At 5'10" and 160 pounds he was no longer at all slender for a guy.  On a hunch, he continued researching.  Seventy five percent of bachelor and higher degrees were held by women.  There were ELEVEN men in his class of one hundred and eighty law students.  On average, men earned a small fraction of what women earned, the average brought way low by the great number who weren't permitted to work at all by their wives.  In menial jobs, men earned 61 cents for every dollar earned by women for the same work.

Brent decided that he didn't want the streak to continue.  This had gone too far.  He had unwittingly sold out mankind in the pursuit for $10,000.  He would push the bright red forfeit button on his entry page and go from W10 to L1.  After a minute of staring, it appeared that there no longer was a forfeit button.

A minute before the prop locked, he chose No.  The majority were on it, and they seemed to be doing a poor job today, he hoped the trend held up.  The batters were being mowed down left and right, but Turner Field had always been a launching pad, and even one mistake to batters of such prodigious strength would likely travel a long way.

Jenny Finch came to bat with the bases empty and two outs left in the bottom of the fourth.  Nineteen year old sensation Mo'ne Davs was on the mound.  Her high heat had induced an ignominious pop-up behind the plate during Jenny's first at bat, and Jenny was now determined on revenge. 

The first pitch was another high fastball that Jenny couldn't lay off and she ended up rifling a foul ball a few rows behind down the first base side.  The crowd cheered as a girl instinctively interposed herself between the ball and her much smaller date.  The ball glanced off her meaty back and thankfully she seemed none the worse for wear. The second pitch was a circle change that caught Jenny way out in front.  She made contact on the top of the barrel rather than the sweet spot.  Nonetheless the backspin and her considerable strength helped lift it into the outfield.  Angela Bonnett camped out and called the ball about midway in the right-center field gap.  The ball caught the jetstream and Bonnett began slowly drifting back.  The crowd (and streaming streakers) were now nervous as Bonnet recognized that the ball was going to slowly sail over the fence.  She paused momentarily then took a running start and leaped against the wall.  The crowd roared as she managed to snowcone the ball in her outstretched glove fourteen feet above the field.  Brent silently cursed his w11.

**

Brent felt an enormous hand settle down on his head and tousle his uncombed but painstakingly casually arranged blonde tresses. 

"Shall we?" inquired Suzy.

"Absolutely!" he responded and took her proffered hand to help stand up.  His hand felt so small in hers.  Her grasp was gentle, but he had no doubt that she could crush his hand bones into kindling if she wanted to.   When he stood up next to her, he realized she was now a head taller than him, and looked stronger than a horse.  Kicking or punching her would probably result in him breaking the offending appendage.  As they made their way out of the library, he had to consciously speed up the cadence of his stride in order to keep up with her.  He noticed that her wrist was tattooed with a sequence of letters and numbers. 

"What's that on your wrist Suzy?"

"Haven't you seen it before?  I had it done the day I got my black belt.  To celebrate and to help me remember the number?"

"What number?"

Suzy looked at him with puzzlement.

"I hold a black belt in amazonian karate silly.  I'm of course obligated to register my hands as deadly weapons."

What?

Suzy went on to drape an arm protectively around Brent's shoulder.  The weight of her arm across his neck almost made him pitch forward, but he quickly acclimated and was surprised at how good and right it felt.  He hadn't noticed it before, but the building was colder then he was used to.  We're the lower metabolism sex now I guess, our turn to bundle up while they're burning up.  I should have shown more empathy before.

There was a welcome heat and smell of muscle emanating from Suzie's hard, heavy arm, and he eagerly nestled closer to her.  Her face lit up, and he could feel her hand disengage from his shoulder and begin gently wandering and probing down his right side.  His extreme proximity to her, the weight of her arm, and their difference in height resulted in his cheek coming to rest half on her hard slab of pec and half on her gravity defying C cups.  The juxtaposition of unyielding muscle and supple curves was driving him crazy.  This close to her chest, he could feel her strong, steady pulse against his cheek.  Infantile memories and urges to nurse were awakened in him and barely suppressed.  The demands of keeping up with Suzy's stride, coupled with the diversion of his bloodstream toward his nether regions once more was becoming too much for his modest cardiovascular capability.  Suzy seemed to sense this  and shifted her grip to support most of his weight. 

"Don't worry, you've nothing to worry about with me along."

They finally reached the crowded main locker hall.

Everywhere Brent looked, his eyes were met by tall, muscled versions of women he knew and many that he'd never met.  He was the only man in the hall at that moment, and he could feel bold, considering gazes lingering on him, mentally undressing him.  Even the non lascivious faces seemed to regard his presence as a curiosity.
 
Brent felt like a bowl of cream in a parlor full of cats.  By himself, how would he resist these women physically, financially, sexually (down boy down!). His thoughts wandered on to his ex girlfriend, a stewardess for Emirate airlines named Mary.  How did you fend off the grabbers? While the rest of the passengers pretended like nothing was wrong?  I never acknowledged your courage and resourcefulness enough, forgive me.

Suzie's arm tightened, the gesture seeming to assert a shift from protection to possession.  The stares broke off to be replaced by shrugs and regretful sighs.   

Brent wasn't sure how to feel about Suzie's assertion, if that's what it was.  Yes, he too regarded their excursion to the End Zone as a first date of sorts, but they hardly knew one another.  What were the established customs in this brave new world?  Was he expected to let her open doors for him and pay for the pizza, and would this create some sort of obligations on his part, expectations on her part?  He was madly attracted to her power but had no intention to recklessly submit and place himself under that power. 

The End Zone was in sight now, it was one of his favorite haunts, a dilapidated sports bar with $3 pitchers on Friday's and over thirty screens. 
He needed to learn as much as he could about Suzy.  With his big mouth and vulnerability he would need a protector real soon. He needed to be in a position by the end of the night to know if he could trust her with that role. Knock on wood. He damn sure wasn't going to be making any more picks on SFTC.

[fbbsmmh]

I look forward to reading the latest installment. As for the nationality thing, I'm Irish. You wouldn't be the first person to mistake an Irishman for a Brit, but it's a bit like asking a Canadian what part of the States he is from. (Which is a mistake we would totally make here, so don't worry about it.)

[NinjaStar]

I have a feeling there will be more picks made before the story ends. I like that Suzie seems friendly and protective rather than domineering, here's hoping that continues.

[JerusalemTulip]

@Ninja Star - Suzy isn't going to go two-faced on us.  I'm every bit as frustrated by "Great Power = Great Insanity" as I think you are.  The story isn't meant to be dark at all. Well, that messageboard exchange between Brent and "domina" was rather sharp-edged I guess. I was mostly trying to emphasize that, even with him having screwed up history, Brent's not going to be a wallflower now and drift on the current of fate.

I've decided to go ahead and release Part 3 anyway.  It might help readers get a better handle on Suzy and possibly Brent.

Part 3

Suzy attempted to swallow down her nervous excitement, to still the trembling in her fingers before they could rouse answering echoes of disquiet in the man they rested on.  It had been a long time since she had gone out with a man.  Her long hours at class, the gym, the library, and clinical practice had considerably narrowed down her social circle.  Many of the other women at the law school were stranded under similar circumstances.  Brent was one of the very few single men in that circle and a very pleasant armful besides.  She smiled wickedly at the memory of the frustration eddying through the hallway as they splashed down it.

She took full advantage of the extensive opportunities for tactile exploration presented to her while they walked together.  Her hands roamed over his narrow shoulder and lightly muscled stomach, and she invented various pretexts to trace the charming hollow of his hip.  She had confirmed that his slender, manly figure was every bit as firm and supple as she had imagined.  He smelled clean, without that musky mess that most men seemed to favor; this was more like fresh-cut grass.  Ha!  His windbreaker had probably been mothballed, or some such thing, but under the circumstances she found it intoxicating.

They reached the entrance to the End Zone and simultaneously attempted to pull the door open for one another.  Their eyes met and much of the tension drained out with their laughter.  After a seconds pause,  Brent sportingly inclined his head in thanks and stepped in ahead of her. 
Despite the crowd, they found a fairly quiet and secluded booth (its benches were facing screens showing men's college basketball).  Suzy whistled to get the attention of the overworked youthful male server and he indicated that he'd be with them in a minute.  She thought it was charming how even at that age waiters were trained to greet the rowdy, predominantly female crowd as 'honey', 'sweetie' and so on.

"One pitcher to start with.  I'll have one extra large supreme with no onions or garlic (fingers crossed that she could get to first base), a caesar salad and a basket of tots." Suzy ordered when the server arrived.

"What will you have Brent?"

Brent stared at her in amazement for a few seconds.

"A small nine-cheese please" he eventually stammered out to the server.

What had him so flustered?  He knows I'm paying right?

Now one of them had to break the ice, to begin the intricate negotiation of possibilities toward love that people call romance.  Should she have pulled up some fragrant live sex organs from the garden to present to him first? She was so out of practice with this!

"May I ask you a personal question?" she inquired.

"Sure, I'd love for us to get to know one another better!"

"Are you made out of copper and tellurium?"

"I..I'm not sure what you-"

"Because you're Cu-Te!" she giggled as he groaned.

"Corniest line ever right.  But I had to say it sweetie."

"I won't fault you for it Suzy.  Because the truth is I'm made out of Nickel and Selenium.  I'm Ni-Se!"

"You're from Memphis right?" he asked

"No, Actually I'm from-"

"Because you're the only ten-i-see!"

She gave a thumbs up in appreciation.

An even exchange so far.

"So Brent, what drives you to be on the Sports Law Review?  Are you an athlete yourself or an enthusiast perhaps?"

He cast his eyes down momentarily as if embarrassed or needing time to formulate his thoughts.

"I'm not an athlete in the sense of owning athletic ability.  I play tennis a lot, and pick-up basketball when enough guys get interested. I ran cross country in high school but that was mostly to try and meet girls-"

"Or check them out from behind when they left you eating dust?" interjected Suzy teasingly

"Yeah that too."  They both laughed.

"I know you've got that associate position lined up at Ben, Jarvus, Green and Ellis.  It occurs to me that working in the sports world would give you access to certain kinds of people.  Are you still hanging around sports to meet girls...or are you trying to meet a particular kind of girl?"

He stared at her like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I noticed the winks and blown kisses those two jocks were directing toward you, I guess you come here often?" 

"I uh-"

"Relax Brent.  I'm not reading your mind, I'm reading your face."

"One day I should sue my face for slander.  I know those girls, but I haven't seen them in here before.  They play intramural soccer and I'm a referee.  Hey don't judge!  Its not just the scenery.  I get paid, and get a good workout." 

"I'm editing the journal and signed up with BJGE because I love sports Suzy.  But yes I do have a type, an ideal sort of woman that I gravitate towards."

"What is this ideal type Brent?"

Suzy hoped she knew the answer.  He had been checking her out a lot, her muscles especially.  She was proud of her physique, and fairly certain that she was stronger, bigger, more defined than any girl at school or in this dive right now.  She had worked hard to build herself up, and was delighted at the prospect of getting closer to a man who could love her because of her obsession and not in spite of it.  Most of the men she had met seemed jealous of her, or assumed she was just some dumb jock.  Yes, women were naturally taller, had sturdier bones, could build muscle much easier than men, but it involved pain, dedication, and sacrifice.  She hadn't indulged in pizza or beer in months, hadn't even heard of most of the television shows and movies that her colleagues discussed between classes, and most of her meager disposable income went toward supplements, a fresh healthy diet and the laundromat.

He looked up at her and smiled, not his usual rueful one, but a frank, unguarded, smile that reached his pale blue eyes and flashed his usually hidden dimples. 

"I'm looking at her." 

Their gazes held for a solid minute.  Doubts, fears, reservations that they hadn't yet shed transformed into something warmer.

The soft throat clearance by the waiter drew them back to the booth as he arrived with their food and dashed off to replace their pitcher.

"My turn now" said Brent.  "Tell me what your plans are after graduation.  Are you planning to hang out your own shingle?  I don't remember ever seeing you in the lobby during on-campus interviews."

"Everything is sort of up in the air right now" replied Suzy uneasily.  "My summer internships have soured me on the notion of spending eighty hours a week doing title searches, secured transactions and whatnot.  I don't think I possess enough attention to detail for criminal or other trial work, and my grades aren't good enough for a clerkship."

"Like you, my first choice is to stay in town.  While assisting on law review, I met one of the contributing writers, a professor named Mindi Wenger.  She wants my help in trying to set up a new Compassion Institute to empower men and minorities and help them understand their legal rights." 

"Men in particular have it so rough right now.  Women are bigger and stronger than men, but we aren't living in the stone age anymore.  Society is using outdated differences to justify keeping men in institutionalized inequality.  The two-track school system is the worst.  Girls get first choice of access to college prep courses and technical equipment, and practically all the school lunch protein and athletic training gear so that it won't be 'wasted' on someone who 'can't benefit from it'.  I cried watching my brothers go through it and getting left behind.  Men enter the adult world unprepared to gain admission to university, without the skills for gainful employment, and get dropped into the lap of unscrupulous women who keep them as virtual household slaves.  Its not just the unfairness of it all, I feel like the world is missing out.  Men are every bit as capable as women at using their mind and spirit.  How many great artists will never spread their wings?  How many scientific discoveries and contributions in the humanities have been lost to us?"

"Sorry Brent, I probably look ridiculous getting on a soap box about things that you must already know, having gone through it yourself.  I've always respected you tremendously for persevering and making it."

"No Suzy, you humble me."  His intelligent eyes were weighing her now on invisible scales, he appeared to reach some kind of decision.  He gently took her wrist in his hand.  In a grave voice he addressed her:"You've inspired me to stand in solidarity with my less fortunate brothers.  I now pledge myself to celibacy until men are accorded equal opportunity with women!"

Me and my big mouth!  Guess I can look forward to a lot more nights of sitting on the dryer.  Wait...is that a twinkle in his eye...

"You little imp! Can't you be serious for one moment?" she wailed as he began laughing.

"K Street is just a dream now anyway" she went on.  "The Melinda and Bill French Foundation is willing to grant us enough to get started and operate the first few years but only on the condition that we collect $50,000 in donations from men to demonstrate that they're ready to help themselves, and we're still nearly $10,000 short with less than a week before the deadline they set."

"I'm sorry Suzy, anyone could see you were speaking from your heart and I feel privileged to be the one you confided in.  You're like a real life superhero with your strength and your sensibility about right and wrong, and I'm going to help you make K Street a reality.  Maybe the nicest part about meeting someone special is that I get to wish for someone else's dreams too."

Her eyes started to water.

"But first...you need to help me answer two questions.  If this is meant to be, you'll know the answers."

"Of course Brent."

"First, The Valkyries are playing the Lionesses for the NFC championship right now.  Do you think there will be a 4th down conversion in the final two minutes?  Second, will the winning gatorade bath be yellow or will it be any other color?"

"What on earth do these questions have to do with-"

"Please trust me Suzy, they're absolutely relevant but you wouldn't believe me if I told you how."

"Alright Brent I trust you.  Yes there will be a conversion.  Look at the score, whoever has the ball last is going to win.  The bath will be yellow, lately its always been yellow."

"Thanks Suzy...hey lets eat!"

They began digging in to their forgotten meal.  During her long abstinence from junk food, Suzy had adapted such that she was not subject to any overwhelming craving for it.  But interrupting this arrangement resulted in her not being content with one, three, six slices.  She polished off her extra large pizza in minutes, unsuccessfully attempted to suppress a thundering belch and was distressed upon realizing that Brent had been staring at her in fascination throughout.

"Uh...I guess that will make a great talking point for our next date huh?" she said nervously, delivering what she hoped was a sexy wink in an attempt to rescue the situation.  She silently prayed that she wouldn't break out into the cheese sweats.

"Why wait that long?" countered Brent.  "Watching you scarf that pizza down was hot!  I was thinking the whole time about how your body is going to convert all that fuel into more muscle."

"I think its time for me to do just that and give you a little peek at what these muscles can do.  The gym will be real crowded right now, but I've got some stuff in my apartment."

She threw a few twenties onto the table and they walked out hand in hand.

[NinjaStar]

First of all, wow. Great writing and top notch dialogue. It's very naturalistic and flowing. I think people can stop bitching about the 'readability' now. Secondly I love the world building. That's always something that bothered me about genderflip stories is how the world is portrayed. More often then not whenever men become the weaker sex the world is almost always a femdom hellhole wasteland where men are brutalized and killed for sport because that would totally happen, right?I like how fairly realistically it's played out here and how protective these superior women are. Men simply face the same problems women face in our world rather than being totally subjugated. Nice. Lastly I liked how turned on Suzie is by Brent's smaller, weaker body as well as her excitement over Brent's love of muscle. I love it in a story where the woman is as sexually excited about the man as he is for her. It just makes things more passionate and romantic which is important to me in a story.

Keep going dude. This is probably the best story on here right now.

[fbbsmmh]

I really like what you're doing Here. I was so confused by the US sports lingo that I missed the gender role reversal element. Really interesting.

By the way, I wasn't as some people seem to think, bitching. I'm Irish, I can't make head nor tails of American sports and I suspect most non Americans are the same. I also don't follow online gaming so the whole thing is a bit confusing.  So I'm skipping all that stuff. The rest is superb though.