+Notable Author: [Amnoartist] SERIES: Muscle Comes With Age

[Amnoartist]

SCRAP: Muscle Comes With Age: The Series
Concept, Excerpts and Narrative Possibilities

Even though it's is just a scrap at the moment, I'm well aware this might not be to everyone's tastes and could go over-the-top. But bear in mind this is what the majority of folks wanted to see, based on the (at the time of posting this) current poll: amnoartist.*****jour...


Muscle Comes with Age would focus on a family with a rare genetic abnormality; so rare, in fact, that it's exclusive entirely to them. At the moment, it's hard to say if the story would be told from the female or male point of view. The condition affects only the female members in the family and allows them to grow naturally as they age. For instance, the mother would be stronger and larger than her daughters, but weaker and smaller than the grandmother. The series would delve into the lives of each family member and explore their unique relationship with others – their respective friends, family, love interests, etc.

There would be several means to catalyse growth in the series alongside the ageing aspect: working out, food ingestion and random spurts of growth, but all of these are limited in how often they occur compared to what is called a "birthday boost," where the females would always grow on their birthdays.



The female characters (with placeholder names)

Hanna: 14 years-old, blonde, hazel eyes [tentative character; might actually be removed. If this happens, any of the below excerpts she's in will be adjusted to remove her or feature any of the other females instead]
Abigail; 18 years-old, blonde, green eyes
Janet: 22 years-old, brunette, blue eyes,
Georgina: 42 years-old, brunette, green eyes
Pamela: 70 years-old, grey hair, green eyes
   


Plot Outline



The plot is very rough at the moment. As such, there's not much worth sharing, but what there is could be tied in with and fleshed out more in the excerpts found below.

"A small town has to come to grips with the presence of a new family whose female members are not only all muscular, but become even more so as they age."



Excerpts and narrative possibilities

Some of these excerpts and descriptions are in various stages of development, ranging from fleshed out paragraphs and dialogue exchanges to short and simple descriptive passages. Please take into consideration that, whether fleshed out or not, these excerpts might not actually make it into the final cut of the series.



Excerpt 1: This passage comes from the scene I had in mind where Hannah's older brother teases her and has doubts about her level of strength when compared against Abigail's. Despite this, Hannah seeks to prove him wrong.

Hannah took the tin from her brother with a knowing smirk. She saw his look of uncertainty and played it to her advantage. Still holding the smile that emphasised her dimpled cheeks, she wedged the tin between her partially developed pectorals and with barely any indication of effort, watched as it warped and crumpled within her chest until it was crushed flat as a pancake.

"Told you I was strong" she said, releasing her flex to let the tin carelessly fall to the floor. "Only, it turns out I'm way stronger than even I thought: I'm stronger than you!"



Excerpt 2: In this passage, Abigail and Georgina practice posing in the basement gym.

Abigail turned her head ever so slightly to offer a quick jealous glance at her mother, whose proud stature was reinforced by the puffy biceps hung in a proud flex. The covetousness was nothing worth acting on, but Abigail always sought to see herself the bigger of them. That just wouldn't happen though. Besides, Georgina was like a toothpick compared to her own mother.

Abigail twisted into a quarter turn position, her glutes bronzed with oil and burnished slightly with sweat owning to the sun's sweltering heat blazing through the window. A brisk smile crept along her lips. Though smaller than her mother, there was a slight sense of enjoyment in being bigger than Hannah, her brother and father still.



Narrative Possibility 1: I considered a scene that focused on Abigail and Janet having an argument over the fact Abigail's boyfriend/girlfriend had been seduced by Janet owing to her being the larger and stronger of the two, only to mutually be betrayed by their larger mother Georgina <--- Your thoughts on this?



Narrative Possibility 2: Imagined a scene with the grandmother Pamela having sexual interactions with her husband on her birthday but she hadn't yet gone through her "birthday boost," only to suddenly grow when the intercourse impetus reached overdrive, prompting a boost in her sex drive <--- Same as above - your thoughts?



Excerpt 3: In this particular scene, all the main characters – both male and female – are seated at the kitchen table for dinner, where some interesting things are more than likely to occur!

[Name here] handed his mother the bowl of peas carefully, making sure his elbow didn't rub against Janet's heaving chest too much. She'd already eaten in that lone meal enough to rival what he would've over the space of a week.  By comparison, Hannah was wolfing down at least four times that because she was going through puberty, which in itself was at least six times what a single fully grown male would eat. Georgina trumped them both though, ploughing through enough carbs and calories to feed a family for three months. In addition to that there was Pamela who through a single meal ate enough to feed the street's populace for six months!


Narrative Possibility 3: Taking inspiration from what could've happened in Brewed, there's a scene/chapter I envisioned where Hannah, Abigail Janet and Georgina attend the Lady Retro bodybuilding competition to watch Pamela wipe the floor with the other contestants <--- Thoughts?



Excerpt 4: All the females in the story gather to futilely compare sizes:

The tape ended at 35'' round Abigail's arm, rubbing against the sharp split striated peak; like two mountains with a small canyon dead in its centre. She smirked knowing she had grown since the last measurement was taken, but as always there was someone bigger.
"That's nothing." Georgina moved her arm up into a casual, almost impassive flex, watching the smooth-edged slab of she-beef pull itself upward until it reached somewhere past the 50-inch mark. "That's an arm."

"Please" Pamela said unconvincingly. She didn't even have to flex to show where she stood on this pointless task, with arms even without a pump edging somewhere close to 90 inches.

Narrative Possibility 5: Branching off from the fourth narrative possibility, I intended to reveal the younger females' current strength limit: Hannah would mention being able to bench the family car without breaking a sweat; Abigail could curl a tank several times, and Janet was strong enough to bench the full combined weight of eight tanks using a makeshift weight bar.




Those are just some of the ideas I had in mind for the Muscle Comes with Age series that may/may not actually happen. Like I said above, I'm well aware it might not be to everyone's tastes. That said; I'm sure there's a little bit of something for everyone in it. Let me know your thoughts on it regardless.

[Amnoartist]

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[GLKnight]

I like a lot of what's happening in what you wrote. If I was writing it, I'd probably have the brother (who's most likely our insert into the story, yeah?) find himself a normal girl who begins ingratiating herself to the point of being considered a daughter of the family... who then suddenly finds herself catching up with the rest of the family. But hey, that's just me!

One thing I'd like to point out is that not EVERY female in a family should get the full genetic package. Think along the lines of kids with normal height being born to parents who are both little people. Maybe some ordinary ladies who had to excel in other ways, whom the family doesn't like to talk about because they hold some belief that they are "naturally superior" in some way. Kind of as a counterpoint to inspire the male lead as they show up for various reason, and show him how to be strong in other ways? I dunno, just spitballing a different angle, really.

[Amnoartist]

Muscle Comes With Age
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 1: New Neighbours

Spring had finally arrived and Sinead couldn't possibly have been happier. The winter that just past was regarded the worst in the last five years. There was no doubting that.

But positively, today was much different. The long-haired blonde felt the first rays of spring sunlight grace her cheeks as she lay back on the deckchair in a stylish bikini top, undies and a pair of sunglasses. She had the sense to oil up first; her skin shone a golden hue and seemed to sparkle with each breath she took.

To her immediate right within arm's length was a small varnished deck table with a small glass of wine. She wasn't even the legal age to drink, but that didn't hinder the young woman's ability to take matters into her own hands and do it before then. But with a few years' practice under her waist, she'd developed the willpower to hold her drink well enough. She was just lucky enough to be alone for now.

She flexed her toes as she turned the page of her book, birds hiding in the trees tweeting mutedly in sync with her contented sigh before taking a sip from her glass. The neighbours to her right were in the middle of having some well-deserved laughs after the gruelling winter by playing in the blow-up pool. Sinead offered a brisk grin as she watched Darcy, the youngest member of the family at four; giddily bounce across the grass from the front door, reminded of how she acted as a kid her age.

The house to the left, though... well, there weren't any. Not since Sinead's friend Kate left a few months back unexpectedly. Well, maybe not "unexpectedly," rather suddenly. Her father wasn't so caring as usual and, well, things took a nasty turn, prompting Kate and her mother to leave. The father, Jim, left not only after – hopefully leaving Kate and her mother alone.

With her typically bouncy steps Darcy giggled as she offered Sinead the first dandelion of spring over the fence, her cheeks rosy and dimpled as always. "Look, Sinead! A dandee... dandee..."

Sinead took the flower from Darcy and smiled, twirling it within the smooth velvetiness of her thumb and index finger, and then turned back to the raven-haired girl before her. "A dandelion? Why, thank you, Darcy. I shall cherish it and put it somewhere safe."

Darcy nodded with an open-mouthed smile. "C-C-cherrish, she repeated" before darting off back to the pool.

Sinead looked at the flower once more, this time more carefully. Darcy gave her a flower at least once every week, and Sinead always put them in a box in her room. It was just a shame they always died.

Placing the small bud on the deck table, she returned to her book when a removal truck turned sharply, the container unit on its back fishtailing and whipping round the corner. It was larger than most other removal trucks; three times the usual width and lugged along the street as two other vehicles of a similar nature veered round alongside a large people carrier vehicle, possibly a family car.

The trucks stopped suddenly just outside Kate's old house, engines purring and lingering for a moment before their ignitions were disengaged in unison with the car driving past them and took the lead before it, too, stopped outside the house.

Sinead put her book down on the table and watched the forthcoming events with an unnatural silence. It seemed her lips were sealed shut the moment all the vehicles halted. The trucks' shutters automatically rolled open in unison - one of which revealed to be filled with nothing but stacks upon stacks of food - allowing their respective ramps to slowly lower onto the road. Sinead cocked her head slightly in an effort to catch a glimpse of what was inside the nearest truck, but its interior was blocked by shadow and the intense burning sunlight.

The front doors of the car opened, the nearest of which revealed a man in his mid-forties to Sinead, smartly dressed in a grey pressed suit and black shoes as if he were a businessman. He withdrew himself from the car and took in a long whiff of fresh air. Unbeknownst to Sinead, he had been cooped up in the vehicle for the better half of three hours.

Next his wife revealed herself from the buckling vehicle as she pulled herself out, who, well, suffice to say, certainly got Sinead's attention in at least one manner. She was covered head-to-toe in bristling, clothe-hugging muscle. The fabric clung to her bulky frame for dear life as if just a single miscalculated move or breath would be enough to shred it all to pieces and reveal the flesh underneath.

She turned to face the house –their new home – and spoke. "It's beautiful." The woman inspected the building in further detail, looking for any abnormalities in its structural integrity, yet found none. Despite that, a small frown formed on her visage, "but could do with a little extending."

Her husband laughed, pulling at the lapels on his suit. "We'll get to that eventually, I promise." He and his wife then moved across the front garden to the door, completely unware of Sinead's presence. She looked at the woman's legs; massive, muscular things big as cantaloupes with thick veins and an unprecedented degree of definition. They were impressive in their own right, but Sinead was completely repulsed by the sight of them; she fought back the building urge to gag.

"Well, come on you two!" the woman called back to the car." Sinead followed her gaze and glimpsed two other people still seated in the car, presumably sulky teens. That would often have been the case for any young people having to move home. "We haven't got all day."

The leftmost back door of the car swung open in such a way that Sinead assumed the person – the boy who opened it was angry. She was right, of course. This "boy" was roughly her age; a hint of stubble on his chin and muscle on his frame that clung to his shirt like his mother as he walked. He was in no manner the same size as or more so than his mother, but that didn't stop Sinead from ogling like a perv.

The complete stranger – the new neighbour boy clocked Sinead as he walked across the grass, biting her lip lustfully with one leg up on the deckchair to better expose her undies, practically calling to him. But he wasn't in any way distracted by her. If anything, all he did was offer a half-hearted wave.

And then – finally – the right side back door of the car opened slowly to reveal a girl the same age as Sinead; brunette with lone, bare muscular legs underneath crazily tight denim short shorts, possessing the ever sought-after sweep across her quads, veins thick and prominent like her ball sized arms, dressed in a top exposing her thick midriff that seemed to bulge with her every breath.

"Fine, as long as I get to train first" she spoke, trudging disinterestedly along the pavement to the nearest removal truck, her voice velvety; contrasting just about everything else about her. "I need to get some chesticle work in" she added, entering the vehicle.

Sinead blinked, somewhat freaked out by the fact the unknown girl's chest seemed to flex on its own at her very mention of wanting to work out, twitching and throbbing under the pinkish confines of her skin. The blonde pulled away from the stranger, looking down aimlessly at the grass for a moment, and then pulled up hoping to find Darcy nearby, but she and the rest of her family had packed up and gone back inside.

"We all do," the mother reminded, reaching into her bag to find the new house key. After a moment of struggle with the new lock, she stepped inside her new home, taking a whiff of its unique scent and eyeballing the small wall-mounted mirror to her right. There would be a ton of posing in that over the years to come, she was certain. "Just... remember we're not all here yet."

"Yeah, when're gran and grandma supposed to arrive here anyway?" The nameless brunette returned with a large brown box full of assorted homey items labelled "Living Room." As easy it looked for the unknown girl, Sinead surmised she would undoubtedly struggle with carrying a box that heavy; it allowed the girl's biceps to pop and bulge to the point where their sides pressed against the box's side!

"Oh, you know how your gran is: Always looking for a reason to work out some kind of muscle" her father said, walking toward the trucks, his suit jacket now removed. One of the truck drivers approached him with a clipboard and pen, prompting him to sign off unloading the contents inside the vehicles. "She decided to walk it over, if you can believe it."

"So she won't be here until around five?"

The father scoffed. "Yes, probably." Realising his daughter might've taken that the wrong way; he swiftly turned with a pointed finger. "But that doesn't mean you'll get to work out first. You've still unpacking to do."

The girl groaned, realising her day-long plans just might've been thwarted.

Tired of knowing her new neighbours were still more or less unware of her existence – excluding the hunk she tried and failed to get attract – Sinead purposefully coughed, attracting the attention of the family's daughter.

"Oh, hey there. Sorry you had to hear all that." The two girls greeted each other with a handshake, Sinead watching as the entirety of the bulky girl's arm bulged in response to the simple act. "Name's Imogen."

"Sinead."

"So, what's the neighbourhood like around here? Prone to burglaries and such or what?" Imogen eyeballed Sinead's glances up and down her muscular frame, trying to take in as much of it as possible, even though she was freaked out about the idea of seeing a girl that kind of... 'big.'

Coming out of her trance, Sinead blinked and felt her face turn beet red with embarrassment at what she just did. "Oh, um.. I'm sorry about—"

Imogen chuckled softly, her chest beef popping in and out with each exhale. "That's alright. I get that a lot."

Sinead felt relief fill her. As much as she didn't like the idea of a girl with muscle, she'd hate to get on the bad side of her new neighbour – especially when it's someone who could probably pick her up with just the one hand. "But to answer your question: no, we don't get a lot of burglaries around here. Besides, I reckon you're someone who could handle themselves, right? You, or your hunk of a brother." She knew Imogen's mother could do a far better job, but Sinead just couldn't stop thinking about her brother and his bulging muscles, wanting to feel them.

Imogen's respondent laugh was so energetic, Sinead felt a tinge of uncertainty creep up her spine. "Who, Kyle? Nah, he couldn't stop a burglary even to save his own life. Don't let the muscles fool you; he's a real softy inside."

It came as no surprise Imogen's revelation about her brother dampened Sinead's first impressions of him. That said, she still had to talk face-to-face with the guy, get to know him better from his own mouth - in more ways than one, in due time.

Just so long as he's not soft where it matters, the blonde said inwardly.

Assuming Sinead's silence to be a bad sign, Imogen thought it would be best to leave. Like Sinead, she didn't want to leave a bad impression either. "Well, listen; I gotta get back to unpacking my stuff. Maybe I'll come by later?"

Sinead nodded, to Imogen's relief. "Yeah, sure. Got a few more deckchairs here if you wanna tone up a bit."

"Oh, I'm already toned" Imogen jested, giving her right arm a slight flex to bolster her point.
---
Sometime later in their garage after unpacking had come to an end, the Nelson family had found themselves to be in quite the rare predicament: one that Jim, Imogen's father, had unfortunately overlooked when scouting for a new house the family would live in. To be fair, it wasn't exactly easy for him to keep track whether this particular issue would arise. His wife Vivien was particularly flustered.

"Just how exactly is she going to get into the house, Jim?" She threw her arms over her chest, pressing her biceps against her twitching chest, breaths shallow yet retaining a hint of frustration. "You saw how big she's gotten lately. You can't just overlook something like this. I knew I should've come with you to scout the house. But nooo, I trusted your judgment."

Jim rubbed his neck with embarrassment. He had to admit he hated himself, right now, and that there was no point in trying to justify his mistakes. While beating himself up over this, however, his mind was working overtime over how the issue could be rectified. But to no avail.

Kyle glanced over at the clock hung above the workshop. It was four-thirty, meaning it would only be half an hour before his grandparents arrived. Some kind of resolution to the family's problems had to be found before then. He turned to the garage door.

Imogen shared his emotions, though not for the same reasons, itching at the bit to work her chest.

And then it dawned on Kyle. The solution was practically staring at him in a sense. Having said that, a solution only truly is that if it works, and only through trial and error would they know that it did. There was only the one opportunity.

"How about the garage door? Can't she get in through there?" He looked to his parents in the hope their respondent expressions implied his suggestion was the key. And, sure as fate, it was. He thought it was a silly solution, admittedly, but that wouldn't be the case if it worked. "I mean, it's more than wide enough."

Vivien turned to Jim with hopefulness. "We don't really need the garage, do we? There is the driveway out front." She stared at him with dog eyes, pleading to her husband.

"You want to convert this into the room?" he speculated.

"There's more than enough space" Kyle pointed out.

Imogen scoffed. "That's under the assumption we don't have to move again." She didn't like the idea of moving for the fourth time.

Vivien turned to her daughter with comfort. "Don't worry, sweetie, we won't have to."

Jim guesstimated the garage door's width, muttering to himself incoherently before smiling. "It's doable- getting her in and the conversion." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile. "I'll call the guys and see whenever they're next available. Should be okay for tomorrow, though. Until then, your grandparents will have to sleep on sheets."

"No. I found a couple of spare beds in the back room. They'll do just fine" Vivien revealed, before realising she'd slipped up somewhat. "We'll, they'll suit my Dad okay at least."

Jim offered a small laugh. "Okay, we'll use one of them for him then."

"But what about Gran?" Imogen's heart ached at the thought of her gran laid on a cold slabbed flooring overnight.

"I'm sure she'll manage" Jim said, keying numbers into his phone. "She always does."


AN: Back at again with another mature & young adult themed series, after binge playing Mass Effect: Andromeda for wee while. Not entirely sure how this series is going to pan out. For now, I leave it to you guys to hear your thoughts.

Great start, can't wait for grandma.

[Amnoartist]

Great start. Maybe instead of getting together with Kyle, Sinead falls in love with Imogen?

Or both? Keep it up! 

That's an idea I'm spitballing. Either that or just Imogen. Dunno if I'll have Sinead tussle with her <i>and</i> Kyle though. But there's always the possibility., so hang tight.

[Amnoartist]

Muscle Comes With Age
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 2: Extending Invitations

Two hours after "New Neighbours"

"So, how long've you been working out to get so buff?" Sinead handed Imogen a glass of orange juice, bent down over the deckchair. The buff brunette took the glass with a soft grin and placed it on the nearby deck table used earlier. Admittedly, Sinead was still somewhat perturbed from seeing a girl big as Sinead, and yet, there was a sense of curiosity about her. That said, there was the obvious fact her mother Vivien was considerably larger still. "A few years I reckon, right?"

Imogen pondered whether or not to tell Sinead the true nature of her growth ability – they had just met, after all – and yet, Imogen admired the blonde's inquisitiveness. It wouldn't hurt to tell someone, would it? "A few years would be putting it lightly" she stated as she reached for the glass Sinead gave her, took a sip and smacked her lips. It kind of tasted... different, off, actually, not as orangey as presumed.

Sinead noticed the brunette's scrunched face and couldn't help but laugh slightly. "First time trying vodka, huh?" She continued her subtle examinations, her eyes shifted over to the bare, capped deltoids so casually boasted draped in a purple, sweat-drenched sports bra.

"You put alcohol in this?" Imogen was horrified by her discovery given she – like the slender beauty by her side – wasn't yet of legal age to drink. But at the same time, a slight thrill came from it too. "I can see you're going to be quite the interesting neighbour."

Sinead laughed. She felt the same way about Imogen, admittedly. She didn't like the idea of muscle on chicks, but there was something about Imogen that made Sinead mull over the new neighbour girl. "What can I say? I like to take risks. Besides, you only live once, right?"

That might've been the case. But it wasn't enough to convince Imogen to chug the juice like Sinead did afterwards. The brunette slid the glass aside and laid back on the deckchair, her beefy back pressed against its wooden frame so her skin pushed through the small gaps. "But to seriously answer your question: I've been working out for three years."

Technically Imogen lied. But honestly, she thought better of her original plan and decided not to reveal the whole truth just yet.

Impressed, Sinead whistled. That meant Imogen started working out at fourteen. It wasn't that hard to believe either; offering a quick glance, she watched Imogen's pecs gesticulate in tandem with her calm breaths, the spring winds brushing her chocolate locks to one side of her face before she parted them with a blow.

"And where did you live before?" Sinead felt a sense of guilt strike her, under the assumption her questions, though merely curious, were perhaps getting too personal for Imogen's tastes, which was true. It was better to get to know the girl better slowly, in baby steps.

Imogen flashed back to her previous house; an open-plan contemporary detached building with a conservatory and basement gym – naturally – situated in the middle of a small community. She loved it there, had lots of friends and was even in the midst of a long-term relationship. But soon events transpired that prompted the whole family to leave.

She shrugged. "That's in the past, Sinead. I'd prefer to just look forward, you know?" She swore to herself not to touch the spiked juice again, but Sinead's unintended mentioning of her past prompted otherwise. Gulping loudly, she downed over half of the juice before she wiped her mouth.

Sinead eyeballed Imogen's distress about something. She put two and two together and presumed her initial curiosity about the rippling brunette's previous home was the cause. Sinead was understandably torn over her own actions and hoped they wouldn't dampen her relationship with Imogen. After all, she was the gateway to knowing Kyle better.

"I hope I didn't upset you or anything. I can be so nosey sometimes."

Imogen offered a gentle giggle, much to Sinead's relief. She turned, her pecs pressed against one another, skin layer minced skin layer; tensed sinew pulled tensed sinew. "Nah, it's alright. Just remembering is all."

Relief still clung to her, Sinead sipped from her glass as she watched someone walk across the street. Her mind worked overtime on what next to ask the girl sat by her who playfully flexed her chest and watched a lone beam of sunlight grace her inches-thick cleavage.

"So, uh..." she had to chose her words carefully, not wanting to embarrass either herself or Imogen any further. "...is Kyle, ya know..." She let it hang in the air for a moment in the hope that Imogen caught on.

"What, single?" Imogen shrugged, clearly disinterested in the subject. But she couldn't deny the amusement found in how open Sinead was. It was almost like an interrogation. "Dunno, honestly. You'd have to ask him whenever you next see him. He's better at maintaining long-distance relationships than I."

Sinead's brow curved to suggest a plan of some sort was forming in her head: one to help get Kyle's attention - but more had to be uncovered about the hunk first. "What does he do? Any particular interests?"

Imogen shrugged once again, the beefiness of her deltoids rolled with the motion; bulging and shifting. "The last time I had any interest in what he did was before I started, you know..." she casually flexed her calf, watched the respective ball-sized, heart-shaped muscle dance above the deckchair. "I'm pretty sure it was model-making or something."

"Ooh, I love model-making!"

Imogen rolled her eyes then flourished a smile. "Yeah, suuuure. You forget I'm a girl too. Sure, I barely look like one, but I know how our minds work – we'd do anything to get a man on our side." She glanced over at Sinead's breasts and fought back a gulp. How did she not see them before? Her nipples casually poked through her bikini top, screamed for release from the pink material. "But I'm pretty sure if he saw those tits of yours, he'd come running" she added with a laugh.

Somewhat embarrassed, Sinead adjusted her bikini top before sharing in the same laugh her larger neighbour – and possibly friend – gave.

The Nelson's front door opened and revealed a man in his early sixties dressed only in shorts grey as his hair. It was Fred, Imogen's grandfather. He peered round the door's threshold and spotted her relaxing next to this blonde stranger. He clearly didn't know her, but Imogen seemed to be having a good time.

"Immie?" He crossed the grass barefooted until he reached the waist-height fence between both houses, hands on his hips. Sinead turned to face him and stared at the creases of age on his face for a moment before spotting the hint of a six-pack, rendered speechless by his stares. She eventually opened her mouth to speak, but Imogen beat her to it.

"Yeah, what is it?" Her voice was sweetly toned. Turned to face him, she smiled.

"Your grandma wants to see you."

Sinead shifted her glances downward at the surprisingly large bulge this matured individual owned; it pressed against the fabric of his underwear. If Sinead wasn't truly creeped out about Imogen's muscularity before, she certainly was about Fred's package.

Imogen sighed softly, pulled herself out of the deckchair and turned to Sinead with sincerity. She was upset about having to leave so suddenly – she'd rather stay and chat with Sinead some more – but 'duty' called. "I gotta go for now," she grabbed her towel, "Catch ya later?"

"You bet."

Before she took off, Imogen's parting response was a brisk grin.

###

The door that led into the garage opened with a creak as Imogen crossed its threshold alongside her grandfather. They ventured casually across the stone slabbed flooring to grunts and groans of exertion.

The so-called garage had in a sense been converted. Instead of being an actual garage, the area had been converted into an en-suite for Imogen's grandparents. It had all the essentials: bedroom, bathroom, gym. The Nelson's were just lucky the room was big enough.

Imogen clocked her grandmother Agnes let a vast dumbbell with an absurd amount of weight drop to the ground before she stared into the mirror with a smile, dressed in a custom-sized bikini top, hair grey and fashioned in a fringe.

Behind the woman was Vivien holding a tape measure extended over Agnes' bulging bicep; veins criss-crossed its entirety, thick and pulsing with energy, humming with life. To Vivien's side was a small notepad on a table with numbers inked into it with a black pen. Pulling the tape away, Vivien penned a number into the open page: 56 +2. To other people the number would seem random, but to those in the Nelson clan it had meaning: The 52 was in reference to the circumference of the older woman's bicep was at last measurement, and the 2 was an indication of how many inches it had grown since then.

Kyle was close by, too, doing the same thing with his mother; crouched on one knee, he made a measurement of her relaxed calf: 43.

"Making friends are we?" Agnes looked at her granddaughter through the mirror with a smile, her arm now lowered to her side relaxed and brushed against her hip. She made a quick glance at the garage door. "I could hear you talking. Sounds like a girl too."

Jim squeezed between Imogen and Frank with a bottle of oil, placed it on the same table the notepad was, uncorked it and eagerly applied some of its golden contents onto his wife's calf. Agnes pulled her leg in behind, beckoning him to pay more respect to her own far larger form.

"I'll get to yours later, Agnes." Jim couldn't deny he'd rather much prefer to stop oiling his wife's beefiness and go for Agnes' instead, but if there was one thing the mother-in-law taught him over the years, it was self-control. "Got a massage lined up for you, too."

Agnes pulled her leg back with a proud, almost narcissistic grin. "Good. These muscles of mine ache for a good rubbing."

Imogen turned away for a moment, acting distracted; she focused on the coo-coo clock hung over the workshop. "Yeah, it's just the new neighbour."

"Sounds like you two could be friends. Am I right?" Agnes's grin turned loving, her head cocked slightly as Vivien marked 58 into the notepad after measuring her calf. "Maybe something a little more than that?"

Imogen scoffed in her vain effort to laugh her grandmother off. The brunette was certain friendship with Sinead was on the cards, and nothing more. "Nah, Kyle seems to have caught Sinead's attention."

Kyle dropped the tape measure in utter shock, much to Vivien and Agnes' amusement. Embarrassment took hold of him as he turned away. "She-she likes me?"

"Dunno. Hard to tell really." Imogen had stopped caring about what her brother did with his time years ago, but he couldn't stay a muted virgin all his life. She hoped he would listen to the advice she was to offer. "You should talk to her at some point. I'm sure she won't bite – much."

Kyle was clearly unnerved by the prospect of talking to a complete stranger – he always had been. But he also knew Sinead was going to be his interested neighbour for the foreseeable future. He muttered incoherently to himself.

Jim finished up oiling his wife and with a raging hard-on started spreading a fresh layer onto his mother-in-law's door-wide back. He was too entranced by the task at hand to notice his erection poked Agnes' glutes. She simply smiled and played dumb. Frank helped by applying a layer onto her calves. Both men were equally turned on, but due to Frank's abnormally larger snake, he boasted the larger erection without doubt.

Agnes decided it was time to come to the matter at hand, talk about why Imogen's presence was required. It was essentially a family meeting of sorts right now, and even though Frank was the eldest, Agnes understandably was the family's head. "I assume you know why you're here, Immie?"

The girl responded with a simple nod, the back of her neck rippling with the motion. She didn't know for sure why she was summoned, but had a pretty decent idea.

"I need to remind you my birthday's coming up in a few days." Agnes extended her right arm out, which allowed Jim to apply some oil to it. He watched the liquid trickle down the broad limb and cascade to the floor in tiny droplets. "And you remember what happens to us each year as a result?" she added.

Again, Imogen responded with a nod, arms tucked behind her back, triceps casually popping with tension. It seemed she was right after all. Despite that, it wasn't truly a waste of time on her part.

"So, my suggestion would be to invite this Sinead over for the festivities that occur that night." Ages felt Jim's rough hands knead the steely flesh covering her bullish neck, and casually gulped to let its respective muscles flex monstrously, pressing violently against his fingertips. "Let her get to know us better as a family."

"And Kyle?" The girl offered. She was eager to help her brother finally get a girl. "She'll get to know him better too, right?"

"Sure, sure" Agnes said caringly. She winced softly as Frank's hard-on penetrated her glutes. She teasingly clenched tight for a moment before her grip was released.

Vivien pulled away from her mother with her notepad and measuring tape, Kyle in-tow. She looked at the measurements just recorded and was not surprised by the fact her mother had, in fact, grown again, though not as much as last time.

Kyle was disappointed by the results he'd recorded: only his mother's calves had grown. He should've expected that to be the case, however, given it wasn't her "time."

"Now, go all of you, bar Frank." Agnes pulled her husband in close, his chest pressed against hers, his cock massaging her waist. It was miracle nobody noticed it. "He and I need to christen this new bed of ours." She tossed him onto the bed and ripped off her bikini top like tissue paper – caring not for the fact it was just store-bought – to reveal her blade-sharp nipples and headstone wide pecs. Next, she slipped out of her undies and tossed them carelessly, where they landed humorously on the door's handle.

Without so much as a proper' see you later,' the remainder of the Nelson family scarpered to leave Agnes and Frank to their strangely typical shenanigans, with Imogen closing the garage door in sync with the bed's rhythmic creaking and Agnes' grunting.

[Amnoartist]

Muscle Comes With Age
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 3: Beefy Classmate

One day after "Extending Invitations"

Sinead's new college year had started, and with it came new exciting learning opportunities and students. In spite of that, there was, of course, one individual she didn't ever count on seeing prowl around the halls, albeit nervously...

Her folders pressed tightly against her slab of a chest, Imogen delicately paced through the college halls, a skirt wedged tautly around her waist, tights white as snow clung violently to her calves and an equally snowy shirt pulled against her gaping torso. It went without saying she was quite the head-turner, but not in the way one would think. She was big – more so than most people were used to. They had seen beefy girls before, but not like Imogen. Frankly, it was rather unnerving for them.

Her every breath was soft and sweet, contrasted the harshly brutish form she flawlessly boasted even unintentionally. Raven hair loose and draped over her back, she turned the corner to the row of lockers. She had been assigned locker number fifty, and even if not numbered, it would still be obvious it was hers – naturally, there were several photos of world-class bodybuilders, both male and female, pasted onto the front.

Sinead watched from her locker further down the hall as the behemoth girl looked either side of her nervously before she opened her locker. As one would expect, the blonde couldn't see what was inside – namely a reserve Tupperware container full of high protein foodstuffs, some magazines and her revision guides for classes. There was the odd photograph deep in the back of it, though. She pulled it out slowly, seemingly with reluctance, and sighed.

The photo in question was of a girl not so dissimilar to Imogen herself, though clearly not as ripped. In fact, she was rather average – slender, 5'5'', long black hair with dimples, sat on the stump of what used to be a tree, smiling. Imogen mirrored that smile for a moment and fought back some kind of feeling, her hand clutched at the photo tighter as her heart throbbed.

"Da'www! Wittle she-man feeling all sad?"

Imogen turned swiftly with panicked breaths to face the male who insulted her from behind. He was a big guy – considerably more so than her, in fact, with stylish blonde hair and abs showing under his shirt. A smaller guy, presumably his friend, stood by with an equally cruel look. "Maybe a dose or two of 'the shit' might help pick you up, right?"

Sinead eyeballed the guy visibly threatening Imogen mercilessly and wondered why she didn't bother to hit back. And then she realised  -she couldn't. Instead, Imogen just stood there and took the abuse, soaked it up like a sponge. She looked to the floor like a kid would when in trouble, her foot scuffing against the tiles, chin pressed against her pecs.

"Sup? The guy lowered his head so his face met with Imogen's, his cruel smile unrelenting and continuously malicious. She turned away to look at the nearby board in the hopes he would leave, but instead moved to confront her head-on again. "You a mute or something?"

Imogen's fear quadrupled. What was it? 'Pick On the New Kid' Day? Her hand grasped the photo tighter, unintentionally warping it into an irreparable crease and tearing the edges.

"Okay, Ford that's enough." Sinead came up to the large guy's side with a stern look painted across her face, arms folded across her breasts. She looked to Imogen - who was on the verge of breaking into tears - then turned back to Ford. "Why don't you pick on somebody your own size – or better yet, bigger?"

Ford scoffed. He couldn't believe anybody stuck up for the freak who was Imogen, let alone Sinead – his ex. "You seriously standing up for this weirdo? You secretly into she-males or something? She's probably got a dick from all those roids."

"Maybe. Probably still bigger than yours."

"Fuck you, bitch." Ford edged in closer to Sinead, his meaty chest merely inches from her eyeballs.

Holding back some fear of her own, Sinead heaved a breath, her left hand twitching in a fit of rage that Ford noticed.

"Whatever" he said, before walking off, bumping into other passers-by students in his path.

Sinead felt the countless pairs of eyes from other on-lookers stare at her and Imogen before she turned to them with an expression just as stern as when confronting Ford. "Alright, show's over, people." She couldn't believe they all simply watched the bullying unfold. Not one person dared to help. "You were all the new kid at one point. Fucking move on!" She pointed down the hall, directing the students, and watched as they quickly dispersed. They were all just lucky neither of the tutors noticed the incident.

Sinead watched Imogen silently look at the photo in horror. For the better half of four years it had been in perfect condition, and now it was a crumpled wreck. But even so, that same smile she showed earlier slowly crept back into existence as her thumb traced the crease that run down the middle.

"You okay?" Sinead obviously wasn't stupid. Whoever was in that photo meant a lot to Imogen, at one point. In fact, she probably still did. The blonde reared her head slightly to the side to allow better viewing of the picture. "Who is she?"

Sniffling, Imogen hastily stashed the picture back into her locker and locked it. "I don't wanna talk about it." She realised her words may've been harsh, considering the person who asked did just stick up for her. "Thanks for that though."

Sinead shrugged. "Meh, it was nothing. Fuck him. Ford can be a real asshole sometimes. Believe me, I know." Instinctively, she rubbed her right arm.

Imogen was worried. It was her first day at college since moving and she was already a victim of bullying. "He gonna be a problem?"

Sinead knew she couldn't possibly answer that on Imogen's behalf. Ford bullied just about anybody he could, but Sinead thought Imogen would be the last person he'd pick on. "You have to ask yourself that. I mean, I'm quite surprised you didn't lay a punch or two into him."

Imogen's responding sigh was one of aggravation. Somehow, she felt Sinead's response would be one along the lines of the one she just made. Sinead presumed she'd just pissed of Imogen even more. "Because I'm buff, right?" she asked with irritation, arms folded over her pecs, allowing her biceps and delts to ripple under her shirt, ever so slightly screaming for release.

Sinead stammered, wondered she just might've hit one of Imogen's soft spots. Shit. Wrong thing to say.

"You think just because I'm buff, bigger and stronger than most dudes, I can handle myself in any situation?" Imogen's annoyance flared. She couldn't tell if most of it came from her hatred towards Ford, or because Sinead was naively presumptuous. "I'm only human, Sinead! I got problems of my own without him being added to the list."

"Of course. I'm not saying you're not" the blonde worriedly returned.

Imogen noticed Sinead's response to be genuine. She didn't have to be so uptight towards the only person who dared to help her out of her predicament. That would be just as equally cruel as Ford himself. The girl sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Sorry. It's just been so tense with moving and stuff lately."

Sinead smiled; relieved the tense moment was over. "I get that."

Listen..." Imogen wasn't sure what she would say next was a good idea. But disappointment from her family would come if she didn't at least offer. "I know we barely know each other, but it's my grandma's birthday in a few days' time – this Saturday – and we're having a party. We're using that as an opportunity to celebrate moving into the new house as well."

And you... want me to come?" Sinead knew her presumption to be the truth. Not only was Imogen laying the dots out, but she was actively connecting them too. "Of course, if that's what you mean?"

Imogen chuckled, felt her pecs press tighter against her shirt as a result. "Yeah. Kyle will be there too, so you'll hopefully get to know him a bit better." She just hoped Sinead wouldn't be creeped out by her grandma so much when they met.

"I'll be there." That was all Sinead really had to say. That was all Imogen really had to hear. "With bells on" she jokingly added, giddy at the prospect of finally meeting Kyle properly.

---

Sometime later...

Kyle could barely breathe. How could he otherwise, being wedged between his hulkish mother and even larger grandma? Every time the two behemoth women breathed, their monolithic muscles collectively bulged in tandem, pressed outwardly against Kyle's ribcage, slowly but surely crushing it. Of course, it was all unintentional. He just – understandably so – couldn't do anything to protest against it all.

And while Kyle was struggling for breath, Jim and Frank were in the midst of dutifully massaging their wives. They did this on a daily basis, like the measuring from yesterday. Jim stood behind Vivien, massaging her – quite literally – boulder-sized shoulders, kneading the oversized beefy flesh in slow, rough movements. Over the years his understanding of how best to massage his wife developed in partnership with her respective growth, as did Frank's with Agnes. He manipulated the larger woman's calves with his hand at a delicate pace, yet each time he reached its upside, she teasingly flexed the huge limb.

She reached for the newspaper rested on the coffee table in front of her and read the main headline with a somewhat concerned expression. Lady Retro Champion of 1960 Dies. It wasn't exactly the cheeriest of headlines. Though to be fair, she was ninety.

Agnes took the news as a bad sign, an ill omen. "And to think I was considering taking part in that show at some point." She tossed the paper back and felt Kyle's aching jaw press against her left delt. With the absurd control over her body, she mockingly tensed the muscles in question, prompting Kyle's mouth to snap shut like roller blinds. It hurt – badly – but at least it provoked his body to jerk up enough to let him breathe properly – or just breathe period.

He heaved breaths for a good minute or two before normality took hold. "God damn it!"

Then, the front door opened with a slight creak, revealing Imogen after her first day at college, her backpack slung over one beefy shoulder. She still seemed kind of distressed from earlier events. Her tights pulled and popped to slowly uncover the rippling calves nonchalantly tensing and flaring at their own free will as she stalked her way across the carpet, and then plonked down on the chair in the room's corner.

"So how was your day?" Vivien released a gentle moan of pleasure as Jim's hands dug deeper into the flesh on her shoulders. Teasingly for her husband's enjoyment, she popped them into a flex with a smile. "That's the ticket!"

"Meh. It was alright I suppose." Strangely, Imogen thought it was best not to let her mother know she was the victim of bullying, not because she assumed Ford would retaliate doubly cruelly as a result, rather because she knew her mother thought Imogen could handle a situation like that on her own. If only she knew Sinead came to her rescue instead.

Vivien's eyes narrowed with suspicion, knowing something was up.

"And did you invite Sinead for our little party on Saturday?" Agnes pulled her leg away from Frank's hand and offered her left bicep in its place. "Arms need attention too, you know." Without question, Frank did as commanded, pressing his fingers deep into the steely flesh of his wife's arm, feeling the underlying muscles flex and squirm.

Imogen rolled her eyes and fought the urge to scoff. She knew it was only a matter of time before that question was asked. Her grandmother always was straightforward. "Yep. She agreed, so..." Imogen turned to Kyle with a mock cruel smile known only to the siblings of families. "...you'd best spruce yourself up a bit for then."

"But she's coming here" Kyle protested.

"Doesn't mean you're free to look unkempt around the girl" Agnes pointed out. "She's your neighbour and likes you – at least act like you give a shit about that." She glanced down at Frank's rubbing and had now become unimpressed by his efforts. "Harder, fuck! I can barely feel your fingers!"

"I'm trying!" Fred pointed out.

Kyle nodded in agreement with his grandmother's words. He always had to be in agreement with her or any of the females in the family. He hated to know what would happen if he got on their bad sides. "Yes, Gran."

"Good. Now..." Agnes pushed Frank aside, watching him land on his butt. "Take over from your grandpa. A smoother pair of hands might do a better job."

His face scrunched up, Kyle was creeped out by his grandmother's suggestion. He wanted to just outright refuse, but again – he hated to know what happen if he angered her. Reluctantly, he took the same position his grandpa was previously in and started massaging her bicep.

"At least you know to respect your elders" Agnes commented.

Imogen decided now was the best time to take off upstairs.

---

Imogen's bedroom was a hybrid of what one would expect from someone like her: it was half girlish and half obsessed with bodybuilding. The girlish half came through in the colour of the room – a cheesy pink - with floral patterns draped along the skirting boards, and a queen sized bed. The bodybuilding half was shown through the several posters of differently aged bodybuilders - both male and female - from different eras in the sport hung on the walls, and the weight set stacked squarely like a pyramid in the corner.

Imogen threw her backpack onto her bed, unzipped it and pulled out the creased photo from earlier. She was still torn up about it. After staring at the pic for a moment, she moved her socked feet across the carpet until her desk was reached, where she pulled out a tin box labelled 'Kirsty' from within one of its drawers. Calmly, yet with a tinge of hesitation, she unlocked the box with a key she stored in a separate drawer and put the photo inside – where several other, equally worn photos of the same girl resided - before replacing the box back inside.

Imogen fought back tears.


Author's Note: Well, shit, this chapter's different isn't it? I wanted to show that even though Imogen is this buff chick, she's still riddled with insecurities and has a bit of mystery about her as a character. Who is the chick in the photo, after all? How significant is she to Imogen? What is her place in the story? So many questions, right? As always, sound off in the comments.

[Amnoartist]

Put a new poll up in advance of posting the next chapter sometime within the week.

[Amnoartist]

Muscle Comes With Age
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 4: Preparations

The day after "Beefy Collegemate."

Kyle rubbed his jaw in the hopes that the pain from yesterday's events would go away. He was pretty sure a slight purplish bruise had formed just above his chin. He knew his grandmother didn't mean to hurt him the way she did, but God, did it hurt.

He looked into his wall-mounted mirror, opened his mouth and inspected his teeth, surprised to find one of his molars had cracked down the middle. So that's where most of the lingering pain came from. He sighed, leaning back against his desk chair. It wasn't going to be cheap to repair the tooth, if it were at all possible, nor was it to have the thing removed. Agnes pointed out earlier that he should spruce himself up for Sinead's arrival tomorrow, but the girl wasn't going to exactly find him attractive if his tooth was messed up. At least it wasn't wobbly – yet.

There were some light banging noises from downstairs as Jim and Frank helped each other put up the decorations for Agnes' party tomorrow, while Imogen and Vivien drew plans for what to cook that day. Agnes though, was nowhere to be seen. Kyle presumed her to be working out for the fourth time that day, while Jim swore he saw her go out earlier. As in, out in front of the public's eye. That wasn't a problem for the family; rather it was just rare of her to do that.

Kyle opened his wardrobe and scanned its insides for a decent get-up. Maybe something formal like a suit jacket and shoes would be good; it was stylish enough to at least appeal to folk, but what if he was only person waring that kind of stuff. He'd feel like the odd one out then. Pulling his arm inward, he unhooked a casual shirt – blue with tucked cuffs – and black oxford shoes. He knew the shirt still fit, but it might've been a different case altogether for the shoes. Hopefully, he hadn't misjudged.

"Shit. Hope I won't have to make a trip to the store before tomorrow." Sat on the bed, he pulled his shoes close to him and one after the other put them on without any issue. He didn't even have to use the shoehorn like last time, luckily. "Heh, good."

Now it was time for the shirt. He was sure it still fit despite his frame being wider from the last time he wore it, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The awkward thing was that his bedroom window overlooked Sinead's, so that gave rise to the possibility of her seeing him bare-chested. What a sight that would've been for her, seeing his abs and pecs stare out.

Luck seemed to be in Kyle's favour that day, since the shirt did, in fact, fit him as well as he hoped. That implied his outfit for tomorrow was set, save for which aftershave to use. He had a few at his disposal, but didn't want to use one that made him come off as someone neither cheap nor completely out of Sinead's league. That said, Kyle still wasn't sure if he'd like her. At this point it was all a matter of making an impression – baby steps.

There was still that problem with his tooth to worry about. Should his smile be open or close-mouthed? He'd have to speak to Sinead at some point tomorrow, so the state of his teeth was more of a problem than he originally presumed. Maybe he should make a quick emergency visit to the dentist.

All these 'problems' he found about his appearance, though, and his want to fix them - they all had the same element at their core: Sinead. That made Kyle think – did he like her after all and just didn't realise it? Probably.

He laughed softly just as a rhythmic knocking came from behind his door. Smiling, he opened it to the behemoth massiveness of Agnes looking at him. Kyle noticed she held a small plastic bag, just as she noticed the small bruise near his chin. She frowned, knowing it was unintentionally her doing.
"Can I come in?"

Kyle nodded, pulling to the side so his grandmother could move through the threshold into the centre of his room, her sports gear clung violently to her gaping form. It was almost like a second skin to her. Kyle watched her move further across the room until she sat on the edge of his bed. He was pretty sure he heard a wooden slat on its frame split as a result, but couldn't do anything about it.

"So what's this about?" he asked. There had to be an actual reason for Agnes' abrupt visit like this. She had better things to do. "I mean, shouldn't you be getting ready for tomorrow instead of this... whatever 'this' is?" he glanced at the bag his grandmother brought with her. Whatever the reason for her visit, it involved whatever was inside that.

Agnes chuckled in response and felt her headstone thick pecs bulge and spread outward in response, pushing against the fabric of her monster sized sports bra, straining it bit by bit. "Straight to the point, huh? Okay." She patted the bed's edge, motioning for Kyle to sit by her side. Admittedly, he was apprehensive at first, given yesterday's events, but thought better of it.

Now at her side, Kyle waited patiently to see what his monolithic grandmother had to say. She was messenger, so he had to listen. Although, it was initially hard to focus – his eyeballs were filled right down to the corneas with rippling muscle staring back at him.

"I felt bad about what I did yesterday, even though I didn't mean it." Agnes glanced at Kyle's jaw and significant bruise. She didn't mean to be rough at all, let alone how much she was. Heck, when she flexed back then, it was only to allow Kyle the space to breathe. She reached into the bag, but didn't pull its contents just yet, teasing Kyle with the anticipation in knowing he would like what was inside. "I didn't mean to be the totalitarian bitch I was like. It's just, these muscles of mine are so damn dense now, I could barely feel your grandfather's massaging yesterday, and I didn't expect to hurt you the way I did either."

Kyle noted the genuine sadness his grandmother displayed. It contrasted everything her body showed; the brutal mass and its respectively insane power. "I get that. I can't imagine what it's like to be as strong as you. Well, maybe I can imagine, but that's as close as I'll likely get."

Agnes smiled, filled with a new well of hope. She pulled the item free from the bag and watched Kyle's face light up with excitement. It was almost like he was a kid again. "I bought you that new Field of War game, with all the expansions." So it stood to reason that Agnes didn't work out again as Kyle originally presumed, and she did go out to get him the game.

She continued to watch him as he took the box from her bulging arm. He may have been in his twenties, but right now his maturity was second-rate to his eagerness to play the game.

But there was a slight catch. Obviously.

"You can only play it after the party tomorrow though" Agnes added. She wanted to make sure Kyle was as clearheaded as possible for the ensuing events, which he was actually more than willing to comply with. It was the least he could do, considering. "Get talking to that Sinead as well. She won't bite" the woman added with a loving smile. "Or maybe she does. I dunno." She chuckled.

Kyle nodded. "You got it!"

Agnes pulled herself up from the bed, its frame creaking and groaning in relief as it was released from her bulk, and headed back to the door, the tendons in her calves twitching like the strings of a harp.

"Thanks" Kyle said softly, looking with a smile.

Agnes responded with a smile of her own and a quick wink. "Now if you'll excuse me, your grandfather and I have some unfinished business to attend to."

Kyle reached for his headphones.

///

Agnes' moans of pleasure from above were loud, as were the consistently rhythmic thuds and grunts. Small particles of plaster cascaded from the ceiling as Jim looked up at it with a slight frown. His mother-in-law had been at it for a good while now, and he had to wonder why his own wife didn't have such passion. "Damn it, Viv, why can't you and I like that?"

Imogen stood on a stepladder trying to block out the above noise with her hammer, but it barely did the job. Jim had taught her how to perform some basic DIY work in the years prior, so was set on hanging up the celebratory bunting on the walls' coving.

Vivien chuckled as she stirred the pot of stew carefully, taking a quick whiff of the thick boiling meat. She and Jim did get at it on occasion, but her mother's ability to do so outstripped hers. "We will! You just gotta wait a decade or two" Vivien responded with a wink.

Jim groaned with frustration at the fact he would have to wait so long for such fervent love to come from his wife. Agnes had done it once already that day, and was now going for a second bout.

The next thrust from above caused the hammer that Imogen held to slip out of her hand. She was using it to bolster the bunting up against the wall. "I do have to admit it's kinda annoying, especially since we're trying to get some work done around here." It went without saying that if Imogen couldn't get the work done right from her grandmother above; it wouldn't be done at all, let alone on time for tomorrow.

"Why are they doing it upstairs anyway?" Jim handed Imogen the hammer she dropped and carefully watched her nail the bunting into the walls upper skirting. She moved her foot slightly to adjust her footing, prompting her calf to quiver; its thick wad of beef abruptly flexed. "Don't tell me the bed in the garage caved in..."

Vivien turned with a knowingly quick grin, much to her husband's understandable disbelief.

"For fuck—that woman needs to control herself, I don't care how hard it is to do." Jim knew he'd be eating his words in years to come, but for now it was increasingly problematic – he sometimes, like today, couldn't get even basic things done around the house for Agnes. Handing Imogen another nail, he groaned.

A loud, almost earth-shattering thud came from above, in sync with a shriek-like moan of pleasure – an indicating of someone having reached climax. The same white particles of plaster dropped delicately from the ceiling, sprinkling humorously onto Jim's head.

"Well, best bet is that's the bed fucked, if you pardon the pun." Imogen dropped from the stepladder and placed the hammer down next to the rest of her father's tools, who was visibly shaken upon hearing her words.

"Well, I ain't shelling out half a grand for a new one just so they can get back to screwing each other senseless" he pointed out sharply. "They'll have to wait until after tomorrow at least." He thought about what kind of frame would best suit his mother-in-law's new bed. Steel would be best, wouldn't it? But then, how long would it last? It gave him a headache worrying about it.

Despite the bed no longer being a functional facet of their passionate endeavour, Agnes and Frank's intercourse was far from over – the grunts and moans continued once more, louder than before, prompting Jim to cover his ears.

"I don't think they're finished anyway, babe" Vivien laughed.

///

Agnes' underwear lay on the carpet next to a pair of white socks and her sports bra. Gentle deep-toned grunts escaped from Frank's lips as her legs dangled from the bottom of the bed, her calves pulsing and flexing teasingly to his enjoyment.

Her hair loose and matted with sweat, Agnes thrust once more as she felt her husband's cock press within her, clamping down his tube. Her breaths shallow as she stared up at him, she spoke after her mouth pulled free from his manhood: "That was pretty fun."

All Frank could do in response was offer a quick sigh of elation and a nod. That was probably the best sex h had with Agnes to-date, and yet, perhaps in the future it would only get better. She pulled her naked beefiness up to sit beside him, tracing a finger along his thigh before squeezing it. He'd really let him go a bit in the sense that his legs were fatter than the rest of him. He had to do something to keep up with his behemoth, sex-mad wife, so sought the advice of an expert trainer, where the results eventually showed – even down there, which presently ached from all that occurred. It was a temporary pain he was happy to live with though.

"So I've been thinking" Agnes spoke in a quiet, almost teasing tone, her finger still tracing upwards along Frank's hip. It tickled him slightly, but he managed to fight the urge to jerk as he looked around the bedroom at the cracked walls, smashed furniture and split bed frame. It was all their doing. Well... mostly Agnes' really.

"You have?" Frank was curious, because whenever his wife was 'thinking,' it was generally about something that concerned them both and was fundamental to listen to. He'd learned that over the years. "About what?"

Agnes didn't see much point in sugar-coating her words – Frank was probably pleased enough by now to both listen and take in her words without issue. That said, she was still apprehensive. Frank could see that much. "About trying for a kid." Agnes knew her husband wouldn't be jumping with excitement at the idea, especially considering they weren't as young as they used to be. But, that was obviously a different story for how they performed in bed. Technically, it could be done, but would it be?

"Don't you think we're a bit---" Frank got the chance to finish his words because Agnes did that for him.

"Old?" She pulled her arm up into a flex and felt the watermelon sized ball of feminine beef squirm and rise to an impressive peak. There was a considerable layer of vascularity present, snaking across the thick limb like a map of blue tubing. Glancing down at Frank's developing erection, she smiled. "So long as you keep that stiff, I don't think there's a problem."

Frank still wasn't sure, but owing to how often they'd already been at it lately, it wouldn't be that hard to believe if Agnes was already one step ahead. "Are... are you sure? You're not just crazily turned on like last week?"

Agnes shook her head, taking her husband's cock tightly in her hand to assert her position. "Definitely sure"aid firmly, stroking him off gently, watching his face twist.

Frank's sigh came with a smile. "No harm in trying, right?"

Agnes smiled as she went back down on him again.

[Amnoartist]

Muscle Comes With Age
Written & Edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 5: Festivities

The day after "Preparations;" Agnes' birthday...

Agnes' birthday was in full swing: the decorations were up, food was cooking in the oven, and other members of Imogen's family had also arrived in advance. Of course, they weren't as surprised by the strange dynamic as Sinead was. She saw her mother, Kate, in the living room's corner with a glass of wine – which, based on her recent discoveries, was understandably needed – talking away with Vivien. Sinead could tell there was a tinge of nervousness about her mum being so close to a woman four times her width, but could also see there was a genuine attempt to get to know her neighbour better. Perhaps it would've run a bit smoother if Sinead first said Imogen was buff.

Sinead, understandably, was in complete disbelief when she finally met the remaining female members of Imogen's family. The blonde thought Imogen was big – which she was, in her own right – but then met Vivien, who was beyond double the size of her chocolate-haired daughter. But of course, the revelations didn't end there for Sinead, having soon discovered that Agnes was double Vivien's width as well. As surprising as it was, Imogen did warn the blonde upon her arrival that 'things might be bizarre', which was an understatement.

Sinead's father, Greg, echoed his wife's actions, chatting with Jim and Frank about God knows what – football most likely. But the girl noticed her father's infrequent glances to the older man's crotch – not in the way one might think – it was just so damn big not to look at it at least once. Greg had tried to socialise with Vivien and Agnes, but felt emasculated by their larger forms engulfing him. Imogen was okay though – she was the same size as some of his colleagues, so there wasn't anything entirely new there.

Imogen came up to Sinead with a glass of water wearing a cute, flattering, waist-length dress that swished with her delicate steps, exposing just enough leg meat to reveal her hamstrings and calves, both taut and powerful. "Here." She offered the glass to Sinead, who looked as though she desperately needed a drink.

The chocolate-haired Amazon turned in the direction Sinead was facing and couldn't stop herself from snickering at what she saw at: Kyle, blending in with the small group of his male relatives. He occasionally offered glances at the blonde, seemingly too nervous to actually talk to her.

"He hasn't spoken to you yet, has he?" Imogen already knew the answer to that question, yet just couldn't stop herself from asking. Truth be told, Sinead was almost similar to Kyle, in the regard that she hadn't spoken to him yet, either. Why? Nervousness. She actually felt edgy about talking to Kyle as she stared at his beefy chest pressed under the shirt. What could they talk about? Hopefully Imogen could help out with that. "He's always been the tense one in the family," the brunette added before glancing at Sinead's sweaty palms. "Kinda like you."

"Wha?" Sinead turned to the large girl with confusion, her hand clenching the glass tightly, water dripping delicately down the rim until it gathered at her fingers. "What-what do you mean?" Her words came out in an almost mouse-like tone, as she turned to Kyle in the hope that he could help offer some help in regards to what his sister implied.

Imogen chuckled, finding her friend's response to be rather cute. She cheekily took Sinead's hand and ran a finger across her palm, feeling the unmistakeable sweat gather round it. "You're sweating, implying you're nervous about something – or someone."

"I am not." Sinead lied, turning her head back in Kyle's direction, only to find he'd left his group to go somewhere. Perhaps that was Sinead's chance to speak with him but she'd missed it – damn. Imogen could see her friend's disappointment and offered a smile.

"Don't worry, I know where he is." She looked at the ceiling, indicating her brother had gone upstairs. He was always so predictable – whenever his nervousness reached its peak, he'd return to his room for a moment to recollect. "Upstairs. Second door on the right."

This was now Sinead's prime opportunity to know Kyle better. God knows whenever that would next be, if her nervousness reached crippling point. She nodded in a friendly manner in her intention to go for now, and made an attempt to head upstairs, but—

"Um..." she glanced down at Imogen and laughed nervously at the girl still holding her hand. "Can I have my hand back, please?"

"Oh!" Embarrassment filled Imogen as she slowly released her grip on Sinead's hand, watching it slip away from her. Knowing her cheeks had turned beet red, she turned her head away and quickly took a sip from her glass of water.

Sinead turned the corner, merely inches from the staircase, but her path was blocked by the hulking woman who was Vivien, who looked at the petite blonde with a smile. Sinead couldn't help with the stares she offered at the woman's vast pec meat that seemed to bulge and gesticulate at its own will, pulling this way and that at the hopelessly taut blouse draped over her torso. It was far too small for her, but Sinead surmised that was deliberate.

"No funny business up there, kiddo" the woman joked, knowing all too well what Sinead planned to do. There was still the main event of the festivities to observe, so the two budding lovers couldn't spend too much time up there. "Want the two of you back down here in ten. It'll soon be time for the big stuff" the mother added with a wink, expecting Sinead to know what that actually meant, even though in truth it just flew over her head.

Sinead nodded firmly in compliance, unaware of the mother's jesting tone. "Sure thing, Missus Nelson."

Vivien chuckled, compelling her vast pec meat to thrust outward even more, ever so slightly tearing her blouse a bit. She felt it and knew it happened, but played deaf and dumb to it all – it was more fun that way. "Please, call me Vivien. Or Viv, if you prefer."

Again taking the woman a little too seriously, Sinead nodded firmly with a brisk, cute smile. "I'd prefer to be more proper, if that's okay." Truth be told, Sinead knew she wouldn't be able to let 'Vivien' or 'Viv' stick. It would've been different if she was the same age as Imogen though.

Vivien nodded, turning to the side and allowed the little blonde to head upstairs.

///

"Hon, are you sure you want to do this?" Kate gingerly watched Greg take a seat at the kitchen table, at the opposing side from Imogen, watching her husband roll his sleeve up to reveal a reasonably muscular bicep almost identical to that of the chocolate-haired Amazon before him. "I'd hate to drive you to the hospital because of your stupidity."

Greg laughed as he shrugged, placing his elbow squarely on the table-top and ushered Imogen to do the same, smiling confidently. Greg always found his wife's hesitancy, but this – all this – was just fun and games to add to the merriments of the day. "Don't worry, Kate. We're just having a bit of fun is all."

The rest of Imogen's family and the invited guests had all gathered round to watch the arm-wrestling match unfold – even Agnes, who watched from the rear of the crowd whilst eating a sandwich. "It would've been much different if he went up against me," she pointed out.

They all knew the result would be one-sided in Imogen's favour. The only people who didn't were Kate and Greg.

Imogen placed her elbow on the table just as Greg did, mimicking his confident smirk as he glared for a moment at the robust, orb-like limb that was her bicep, which bulged without much effort. A tinge of uncertainty creeped up on him, admittedly, but he was never one to withdraw from a challenge on second thoughts. He'd at least see it through, win or otherwise.

"You should really listen to your wife, Mister Jenson." Imogen continued watching Greg's hesitant gazes, knowing all too well he was in for a shock. But, he did accept her challenge, albeit rashly. "I'd hate to potentially break your arm."

"Ak, please, I've done this plenty times with my buddies from work, kid. It's nothing new to me." Greg's boasting was a little unnecessary, and Kate knew that. Sure, her husband did do this sort of thing often enough with his buddies, but— there was something about Imogen that made the woman think his bragging would amount to nothing. There was a certain level of confidence the younger girl showed; unwavering, constant. Kate was rather worried about it, but refrained from showing it.

"Your loss, mister." Imogen ushered Greg on with a quick gesture with her hand, effectively setting him up for her trap: herself. She was the trap, and Greg, from all his misplaced confidence, was just too blind to see it. "I won't go easy on you."

"Likewise," the older man called back.

"On you," Imogen smirked.

Those who'd gathered round to watch the challenge – really to watch Imogen pulverize Greg without any effort – moved in closer. There were a small number of people who actually wanted Greg to win, but that was a maximum of five onlookers compared to the other fifteen who ushered for Imogen.

The challenge erupted into a quick start, with Greg thrusting his arm inward quick as he could, in the hopes that he could catch the brunette amazon off-guard. She did blink with surprise, but her arm barely moved. At best, there was a slight jerk that compelled her bicep to pop up, the underlying muscles attacking at her smooth skin, rising faintly upward.

That was Greg's master tactic against his friends and it barely affected the girl before him. She looked on with that same, ever-powerful cute smile. "Sure you don't want to back down?"

Kate took the girl's words as a sign of things to come – bad things, at that. She leaned in close to her husband's arm and spoke into his ear, her words containing a breathy, rather distracting tone. "You should really consider her offer, Greg. God knows what she could do to you if she tried."

"I have to agree," Vivian cut in. "Imogen can be rather unrelenting at times like this." She watched her daughter hold fast, her bicep throbbing from the resistance that came from Greg. The mother knew Imogen could've ended the challenge right there and then, but was deliberately holding back in the hopes that Greg would heed her warning.

Greg struggled to hold his ground. If he were up against his mates, either he or they would've been beaten by now, but Greg didn't fancy the idea behind being beaten by a girl less than half his age. What an embarrassing story that'd been.  So he doubled down, clenched his gut and mustered enough strength to bring him back up to level ground. But this didn't provide the result he hoped for...

Greg watched with horror as Imogen's bicep grew a couple of inches as a result of doubling down on his resistance to her, eyeballing the limb peaking upward slightly larger than his own. This shocking incident resulted in Greg going numb and giving the advantage to Imogen, who brought his hand down on the table hard. The crowd of guests cheered in unison, even those who initially hoped for Greg to win,

"How the fuck did—" Greg was understandably lost for words. One minute he was contesting a buff chick for fun, the next he watched her grow right in front of him. He turned to Kate with disbelief, rubbing his knuckles. "Did you see that?"

Kate's response was merely a dumbfounded glance at Imogen.

"Ehh, it's a thing I do. Hard to explain, really." was Imogen's response. She wasn't sure if there was any real point in explaining to Greg what happened. It would properly just fly past him. But, in its wake, she hoped there were no hard feelings between them. She offered her hand out to him to shake. "No hard feelings though, right?"

Greg scoffed, pulling his hand out to complete the gesture. "You're not bad, kid. A little on the strange side of things, but... not bad."

Imogen smiled.

///

Sinead knocked on the door and waited for a moment, only to be confronted by silence. She could heard noises from a TV behind the door and opened it a crack, peeking into the room to find Kyle sat on the carpet playing the new game his grandmother got him. It appeared as though he was too "into" the game to have even noticed Sinead enter his room.

She looked at the walls and found posters of all kinds strewn over them: movies, music bands, and TV series – kind of normal for any guy to have in his room, right?

"Hey." Kyle paused his game and stood up firmly, watching Sinead take a tour of his room. He watched the relative stranger move to and bend over his DVD collection, tight glutes pressing against her outfit. He pulled his hand out to the girl. "I'm Kyle. I don't believe we've met properly yet. Sinead, right?"

"Yep." The girl pulled out a DVD and turned it onto its side to inspect. She was never usually this curious about what a guy had in his room before. It was almost something completely new for her to experience. "Your neighbour."

Kyle watched Sinead straighten up and turn to him. He remembered what his grandmother said: talk to her and get to know her better. That was easier said than done. How could he ever hope to confidently talk to someone this dazzling? Those eyelashes she teasingly batted as her steps edged in closer to him.... What could they possibly talk about that would be interesting for them both, if anything?

"So, uh... you settling into the neighbourhood okay?" Sinead found a chair near Kyle's wardrobe and sat on it, crossing her legs to ever so slightly expose her frilly panties to the guy's eyes. An expert temptress: that's what she was. "Haven't seen you in college yet."

"Ah, yeah. I'm not a student." Kyle observed Sinead looking out the window down into the front garden, where she saw her father talking to Imogen, both seemingly in good spirits. Kyle continued as Sinead rubbed her leg. "Got a new job at that Tully's store, instead. Nice place, if it weren't for the armed robbery we had last week."

"Rob-robbery?" That certainly got Sinead's attention. She regularly bought stuff from Tully's whenever she was nearby. She didn't buy much, save for women's hygiene products. "What do you mean robbery?"

Kyle scoffed, offering a brisk smirk afterward. He meant what he said, and could've gone into the specifics, but didn't want to worry Sinead any more than she already appeared to be. All that really mattered was the robbers were stopped by a buff pregnant woman. "It doesn't matter. It's history now," Kyle reassured.

Sinead was relieved, but couldn't deny the slight trace of shock that still boiled within. What if she was there that day? What would've happened? Would she be here now afterward? So many questions, and yet, here she was – safe and sound with her crush - with the man she hoped could protect her. She was thinking a bit too far ahead. And Kyle – somehow he felt guilt.

"Listen, Sinead." He sighed, wasn't sure if it was a good idea to actually say what was at the tip of his tongue and brewing in his brain. He'd said the exact same thing to countless others and it never got any easier. People understood, but after they found out, they never spoke to him at the same level as beforehand. "I know why you're here, and can respect that."

Sinead felt panic run through her. Those words Kyle spoke – she'd heard similar words come from other guys before him. She'd hoped for something to form between them, but it appeared there was no metaphorical clay to even support that hope.

Kyle continued – it never did get any easier. "But... I'm gay."

Those words hit Sinead like a brick. They weren't what she initially expected them to be when Kyle first opened up into breaking the news, nor were they worse, but weren't any better either. Basically, they were just words. "Oh. Um...." She was still processing it, albeit slowly in manageable chunks.

"No-one knows yet. Not even Immie." Kyle was worried about how Sinead would react, knowing she was still trying to come to terms with it. He knew she liked him, and God knows how she felt about him now. Hate probably. It was mostly hate when he revealed that particular secret to someone. "So please, don't go town crier on me."

Kyle panicked, presuming he could feel some kind of negative emotion boiling within the dazzling blonde before him until it took hold of her. He prepared for the worst; clenching his fist, he was ready to take the abuse – again.

"Why would I do that?" Sinead was mentally scratching her brain box over why she would see it fit to tell people Kyle was gay. She knew it was wrong to do that. "There's nothing wrong with being gay." She saw Kyle's face light up – a genuine toothy smile formed across his lips. "Sure, I might be a little surprised, but that's no reason for me to be a bitch about it. 'Plenty of fish in the sea,' as they say. For you and I."

Kyle's smile persisted.

As happy as Sinead was, she did have to break out the honesty a bit. "But you gotta tell at least your parents, Kyle. If not, Imogen." The blonde flashed back to the first day at the college's new term - when Imogen was confronted by Ford for being buff. Ford was also a homophobe. These new revelations now brought to light would not bode well for her if someone found out Kyle was gay before his family did. "If she finds out through someone other than you, that's not gonna end well for you both. You'll have to move again."

Move again: Kyle didn't want to do that. He'd done it often enough by now to hate it with a furious vengeance. Imogen was the same.

There were no two ways about it – Kyle had to tell his parents.

Then there was a sudden knock at the door as Vivian's voice called from behind it. "It's time for the cake, guys."

Kyle knew from experience to expect more than just cake. If only Sinead knew; if only Sinead's family knew.

///

Vivian placed the cake on the table, candles burning brightly in dance-like flickering movements. The cake itself was honestly nothing special. It had '65' on it, was made mostly out of chocolate with some icy round the upper and lower edges. Unbeknownst to Sinead and her family though, was the fact the cake was mostly protein based – even the chocolate. Would that affect the taste? Hopefully not.

Agnes leaned over the cake, dressed in a floral outfit that only just managed to fill the extent of her brilliant muscles. There were no rips or tears – yet – thankfully, so the woman managed to go through all the festivities without exposing more flesh than planned. That wasn't to say she didn't roll up a sleeve or two show off her mass to those who were interested. Earlier, she pulled her leg up over Greg's thigh, rolled up her tights and offered him the opportunity to feel her quads. He apologetically refused – out of kindness alone – having to still recover from his previous challenge with Imogen.

When the clock would strike 6pm, Agnes would officially be sixty-five years-old, and upon that moment, the real fun would begin. Presently, it was 5:57; implying three minutes of arduous waiting would have to be endured. To help pass that time, she boasted with poses. No-one would argue since the day was focused on her, and she could as she saw fit – within reason.

She pulled an arm up, goading the limb into a flex that made it rise to a powerful peak of fifty-four inches, encrusted with a level of pumped-up vascularity that made the arm look more vein than skin. Sinead watched from the couch as the woman raised her other arm into the same position, rather creeped out by the sheer size of her. Only by being up so close did she realise how large she truly was.

Next was a calf raise. To better show off the bulbous meat, she pulled the ends of her outfit up. Each calf raise deliberately came at a slower pace, pushing outward more and more against her tights until the dense meat burst through them casually from such an impressive pump. She played deaf and dumb to it, doing more raises until thick veins showed over the heart-shaped muscles.

Time passed quickly – the clock struck six, indicating it was time for the big stuff to happen. Everyone stopped what they were doing and patiently waited – all except Sinead and her family, not knowing what to do or even expect. Nobody told them a thing about anything, really. They felt stupid. Regardless...

Nothing happened. Agnes turned to the clock with a frown. "Is the clock a minute too fast or something?" Every year, whatever was supposed to happen, happened. But now... Agnes panicked. She was supposed to—

Then she realised. She'd gathered her family and friends for what was essentially a yearly event, only for it to be late this year. She was upset in a sense, as were the majority of her guests. That said, it wasn't a total waste of time – they all had fun in the end.

But Sinead – she couldn't deny she was supposed to witness something - something big. And not knowing what that something was bit away at her. She'd never been so intrigued in her life. Imogen's family was a living, breathing, bulging fascinating mystery. And Sinead, from then on, endeavoured to uncover it.



Author's Note: Yep, I made an unexpected, perhaps ballsy move and made Kyle a gay (or bi, if things go differently in the future) character. I haven't done one before (save for lesbians) so things might get a little rough-edged for his character. The initial draft had Kyle and Sinead kiss, only for her to find out no sparks flew between them. I then realised perhaps having a gay character is more intrinsic and interesting. I also added a little world-building moment by tying this story into that of "In Our Mother's Arms" a little bit. Now, of course my writing skill isn't in line with Stephen King's, but I think there was a slightly cute moment between Sinead and Imogen. Am I right?

[Amnoartist]

Looking ahead a bit into the series, I'm wondering if you guys are interested in seeing an incestuous relationship form? There are so many options available about who can sleep with who that I won't go into specifics about a certain couple.

Maybe you're interested in seeing Vivian sleep with Agnes or Imogen? Maybe Imogen sleeps with Agnes? Like I said, the options are vast. Sound off in the comments if you're interested.

Note that this is just a thought at the moment and not set in stone.

[Amnoartist]

Not so into incest.  Think it detracts rather than adds to stories.

Noted There's the chance it won't come to that anyway, but I'm forever curious to know what you think

[Amnoartist]

I also would prefer no incest but, hey it's your story. And I would probaly read it anyways, since yor stories are allways well written and make for a good read.

Thanks man, I appreciate that

[Amnoartist]

Muscle Comes With Age
Written & Edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 6: What Are Friends For?

The day after "Festivities;" at the college cafeteria...

"So how'd your parents take the news?" Sinead tried her utmost to tolerate Imogen ravenous consumption of food, her face scrunched up slightly with repulsion at the tubes of pasta dropping carelessly from the brunette's fork. Sinead wasn't disgusted by the larger girl's eating habits per se – it was just new to her to see someone pack their own weight's worth of food into their gut. Imogen looked up from her tray with confusion, not sure what was being inferred. "You know – about Kyle being gay?" the blonde added. There was no denying the fact she was also dying to find out what the whole deal with the 'big event' was at Agnes' party yesterday, but finding out so soon would mean the fun would be over afterward.

"Oh!" Imogen took a sip from her protein shake; slowly yet with great, considerable amounts, the liquid ran down her throat soothingly. Her action was not without purpose, as she took that moment to gather her thoughts and remember what her parents said. Sinead hoped the news her large friend would bring was more good than bad, as she watched the gulps continue, bringing the bottle's contents to around halfway done within just a few shorts moments. "Yeah, they were more supportive than Kyle thought. Actually, they had their suspicions years ago," Imogen continued.

Sinead raised an eyebrow with curiosity but knew it was best to just leave it at that – unless Imogen chose to rabbit on about it. She went back at her pasta with renewed eagerness, caring not about the evident stares from the passer-by students, some of which were of curiosity, others of revulsion – it was a shame most of it was negative. But Imogen learned to block it out. Well... most of it.

"Your studies been okay since you settled in?" Sinead was surprised at herself. She wasn't so interested in the other, now former newcomers as much as she was with Imogen now. At best, it was a friendly 'Hello, you settling in okay' for the sake of acting pleasant. But with Imogen it was genuine interest. "You haven't had any issues since you started your classes?"

Imogen's response was a simple shake of the head, her mouth too full with food to even open let alone say a word. Her cheeks puffed out from the crazy amount of pasta she'd stuffed into herself. The swallow that followed was loud and she felt the cold, protein-heavy cuisine hit the bottom of her gut. "No. No issues from my classes."

"What about – you know--" Sinead made a quick turn to her left, looking at Ford sitting two long-tables away from them, eating the same carbonara-sauced pasta Imogen gorged on. Laura, his girlfriend, was sat at his side, a hand pressed tenderly to his left pec like a concubine worshipping a God. "Any issues from him?" Sinead continued.

Imogen followed Sinead's glances and looked at Ford with unimaginable distain, clenching her fork so tightly that an imprint of its metal frame soon showed on her palm after she put it down. Sinead noticed it but didn't speak up, knowing down so might not be a good idea. She hated herself for it.

"I don't want to talk about it." Imogen returned to eating, though with not as much enthusiasm as before; sighs of disappointment intermittently escaped her vast powerful lungs whilst she chewed.

Sinead was worried. She knew something was up – something that involved Ford. And anything that involved him was never good. She knew that from experience; instinctively, she reached for her arm. "Immie? Don't shut me out. Sure, you've only known me for the better half of a week, but if you keep this up, you won't know anyone who's willing to help."

Losing Sinead as a friend was a risk Imogen wasn't willing to take. She was her only friend right now and losing that friendship would be a bad move. Imogen sighed, unsure if it was a good idea to let Sinead know what her problem was – she didn't want to drag her into it when it wasn't hers to begin with. But Sinead was persistent; she offered Imogen a stern, icy look.

"He knows." That's all Imogen said, too scared to say even just one word more in the fear that it would be enough to rope Sinead into her problem. But those two words were enough for the blonde to know what – who Imogen was talking about. Sternly she turned back to Ford.

"Ford knows about Kyle being gay?" Sinead knew how much of a homophobe Ford was, not to mention self-righteous. He was already a problem at times, but now he was one that likely wouldn't go way and get worse over time. "He hasn't done anything, has he?" Sinead's worry amplified.

Imogen shook her head like before, too worried now to eat the last remains of her lunch. As fearful as she already was for what Ford might do to Kyle, her distress doubled when she realised Sinead had now been brought into the issue at hand. "He hasn't done anything yet, but knows where Kyle works. I'm scared in case Ford actually does do something."

"Couldn't you tell someone about it?" Sinead watched Imogen's worry deteriorate her rapidly; surprised how someone who looked like they should've been the embodiment of confidence, owing to how she looked, was actually on the brink of tearing up. "Couldn't you face Ford? You know, stand up for Kyle?"

"The last time I stood up for someone, I didn't do so well." Imogen's words stuck out at Sinead like a sore thumb. What did they mean? They weren't exactly encouraging words.

"I'll see what I can do." Sinead pulled herself up from the chair and scooted an inch or two away from the table in her effort to confront Ford to help her friend, but Imogen was quick in the act and squeezed the blonde's arm, her rippling forearm bulging under her blouse. It hurt badly, though it wasn't intentional. "Ow! What the fuck are you doing? I'm trying to help you."

Imogen released her grip almost suddenly, yanking her arm back apprehensively. Sinead saw her pleading gaze and stopped. "Don't do it - please. This is what I was afraid of – other people solving my problems."

Sinead scoffed, unsure what Imogen was getting at. The blonde was half a mind to continue with what she initially set out to do, but saw that Imogen was increasingly edgy. "Help one another – that's what friends do." Sinead's words were spoken with a mix of severity and pity. Still looking at Imogen, she'd never seen anyone so edgy.

Friends. That's what Imogen and Sinead were now. Imogen never expected this – at all - and it threw her off, so much so that she was blind to Sinead storming off to confront Ford.

///

"Come on, babe." Ford watched Laura struggle to keep the vast quantity of food her mouth, having already consumed more than what she was accustomed to. Ford knew he couldn't help her – she had to learn from her own mistakes and experiences. Not that he actually really wanted to help anyway. "If you want to get up onstage one day like you said, you gotta get your chow down."

Laura was a lithe redhead who was naturally attracted to beefcake guys like Ford; her stomach was so slender that, from all the food she'd already eaten before the latest forkful graced her jaw, it was almost humorously bloated slightly. Ever since becoming attracted to Ford, Laura wanted to be like him in almost every way; beefier, stronger--- and he was more than willing to aid her in that particular quest. So it went without saying he was of the biased mind – he didn't like the idea of Imogen being buff, but was more than willing to help Laura be that way.

"I can't, I'm full." Laura fought back the building urge to regurgitate what she'd eaten, as doing otherwise would only paint a frustrated expression on both their faces. Laura's persistence in most cases knew no bounds, but in this case it was restricted to the size of her small yet stuffed gut. Her burp was loud and long, but not enough to give the girl a second wind. As she pulled back to take a break from gorging, Sinead slipped onto the bench at the opposite end of the table with a stern, conflicting look. She eyeballed Ford's rippling physique. He was bigger since the last time they confronted one another. Specifically, two or three growth hormone doses bigger.

"A certain someone told me you know another certain someone's secret." Sinead looked at Laura's disdainful returning glance for just a moment before shifting back to Ford, who knew from the get-go whom the unwelcome blonde referred to. "I'd – We'd prefer it very much if it was kept that way," she continued, motioning for Ford to eyeball Imogen, who had returned to eating her pasta anxiously, not knowing where her blonde friend had run off to.

"They're all a bunch of freaks, that family." Ford slipped his hand down over Laura's taut thigh, giving it a slight squeeze. This was Ford's tactical indication for Laura to chip in. "I mean, I heard even the grandma's buff."

"Eww!" Laura shuddered in disgust at the eye-opener Ford revealed to her, breasts jiggling to and fro. It put her off eating the rest of her protein-packed meal.

Sinead nodded, unable to deny the strangeness behind Imogen's family. But that's what made them so intriguing. "Yeah, I can't deny they're strange, but that doesn't give you the right to go town crier over who they are or what they're into. Think people would like it if they found out you were juicing?"

Ford shot Sinead a cold stare. "I'll do it anyway." The firmness in his statement made it clear he wasn't joking. He never did joke, so whatever he said about anything was always taken seriously by everyone. That made it clear to Sinead that she'd need to double down on her efforts. "It's not like you can stop me, Nade," Ford added, making it a point to flex his chest in an effort to assert his position.

Sinead scoffed. She'd become immune to Ford's flaunting over time. It would've worked when Sinead was younger, but now it was useless. "No, I can't. But I reckon she can." Motioning with her head, she diverted Ford's attention back to Imogen, who was timidly tapping her feet off the ground. She couldn't see the confronting trio from where she sat, and didn't know if that was good or bad.

"Who, her?" Laura only just managed to refrain from bursting into a fit of hysterics at Sinead's suggestion. In fact, she probably would've been laughing right now, head pressed on the table, if Sinead wasn't so serious about her claim. "She's timid as a mouse. Besides, those muscles of hers are probably just for show compared to mine." Right on cue, typical to her pompous nature that matched Ford's, Laura pulled an arm up into a flex, presenting her bicep in a noteworthy peak, decorated with a gentle layer of vascularity. Her arm wasn't big as Ford's, but was still something compared to Sinead's.

Laura's boasting hit a nerve in Sinead - A big one at that. She tried her utmost to not react, but this time failed miserably. Leaning in closer to Laura, Sinead spoke with a strong tone. "This isn't about you, bitch." Laura was surprised by how Sinead reacted, leaning back speechlessly. Good – the blonde hoped that'd be the case. "It never is, nor will it," Sinead finished.

Laura turned to Ford in the hope that he would respond to Sinead in turn with an equally demanding voice. But there was something about Sinead's tone that him go numb if for just a moment. Laura noticed this and made him look like a brutishly beefy version of The Addam's Family's Lurch. "Are you gonna let her talk to me like that?" Laura chipped in.

The brief silence that followed was proof enough. Sinead took that moment as her cue to leave – and on a high note no less. Slipping out of the bench, she gave Laura an unflinching stare and predatory grin. "Stay away from Kyle. Not that hard a thing to do."

"Slag!" Laura jeered.

///

Imogen shuffled her weight in her seat as Sinead returned. The blonde did think she got slightly ahead of herself in regards to how she handled Ford, but it was better to do that than nothing at all.

"What did you do?" Imogen hoped Sinead didn't do anything drastic while confronting Ford. That would only have made things worse than they already were. Imogen worried for Sinead; her heart thrummed under the dense meatiness of her chest, bashing against her silky smooth skin, threatening to burst out.

Sinead's response was simple and heartfelt. "What friends do."

Imogen's concern seemed to dissipate with her friend's words, as if they acted as some kind of relaxer.

Bringing her protein bottle to her mouth, Imogen smiled. Friends, she said inwardly.



Author's Note: Well, shoot. I thought this chapter ended up being pretty damn good. I suspect people assumed it to be about Agnes' belated growth, but I wanted to turn the expectations on their heads and wrote this relationship-building chapter instead. I always imagine Ford as a kind of holier-than-thou biased asshole of a character, so hopefully he's perceived that way with this continuation. His relationship with Laura will be touched upon later parts. I saw them as an Insta**** bodybuilding couple, so again, hopefully they're viewed that way - perhaps there might even be a chapter about only them further down the road. As always, let me know what you thought about this.

[Amnoartist]

Muscle Comes With Age
Written & Edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 7: Unrelentingly Persistent

Several hours after "What Are Friends For? - At the Nelson household...

It was the buzzing of the alarm clock that woke Frank, not the otherwise quick jerking of Agnes' hand round his manhood. She didn't want to wake him from his then evidently peaceful slumber, and he more than deserved it after the night's rampant frolicking. He reached for his aching crotch; a dull nip pained him enough to groan slightly, although it was more a welcoming pain than undesired – it let him know he still had his balls after what occurred overnight.

Frank pulled himself up to rest his back on the bed's headboard, his eyesight still adjusting to the morning light. He could see a large fuzzy figure that looked to be doing all sorts of exotic dance moves on the floor. They might not have actually been dance moves at all, given Frank could barely see one foot in front of him at that point. After closing his eyes tightly for a moment, his vision returned in full, revealing Agnes to be the 'fuzzy figure,' and she wasn't dancing at all, rather—

"Morning, dear." The behemoth naked woman bowed down into an intricate stretching position, feeling her gaping muscles pull and stretch as her chin graced the carpet. "I didn't want to wake you because you looked so peaceful."

Frank felt compelled to watch his wife continue her stretching for a full minute before finding the willpower to speak. Before he did though, he'd witnessed Agnes' biceps spread themselves from the stretch's exertion. They didn't grow, but tightened up enough to fell taut for a moment. Then Frank spoke. "How long have you been doing this? Why are you doing it?"

"Well, it's nine-thirty now, right?" Agnes jumped upward to stand upright, coercing her hamstrings to flair with the simple motion and as she landed with grace, her calves did the same; popping and jerking, they danced. "I've been doing it since you fell asleep after we fucked, so about six and a half hours."

She'd been stretching for a full six hours and a half? If there was ever a time to be overdoing it, this would be it. Frank was quick to remind himself Agnes had never done stretching at all, let alone for so long. She didn't have much need to, given her muscles pretty much grew on their own without help. But she still didn't answer Frank's other question: why was she doing it?

"But, again – why?" Frank couldn't deny the building curiosity within. There must've been a reason why Agnes suddenly started doing stretches, and probably not a good one at that. Frank braced himself for whatever news may come at him from his gargantuan wife, who even after her husband's stirring, didn't seem to show signs of losing interest in her task.

Stretching out her bicep once again, the woman offered a sigh – it was neither plaintive nor joyous, just a plain old sigh. She wasn't all that sure if it was a good idea to let Frank know why she suddenly had this desire to stretch, knowing that the last time they spoke about something serious, he likely only offered his support to humour her. Even if that was the case, he'd surely have to listen now.

"Well... I read somewhere online that stretching after sex increases ones chances of contraception." Agnes hoped Frank would see her statement in a positive light, not ridicule her for being undyingly determined in her want for another child. The last time they spoke about it, Frank had presumed Agnes' words to be the result of her being sexed-out - not an unreasonable assumption. But now it seemed he had to backtrack and take this seriously.

"You're actually serious about wanting another kid?" Frank thought logically about what his wife said, both just then and previously. Like she said before, they'd had enough unprotected sex over the last few weeks that it shouldn't really come as a surprise if Agnes was already knocked up. But a lot of things had to be taken into account. Their age, for instance – Agnes and Frank weren't exactly in their prime anymore, even if they performed that way in bed. "Have you thought about what Vivian and Jim might say about it? They might be against the idea."

Agnes nodded in agreement, knowing her husband was in the right. But Agnes was obviously a grown up and could make decisions for herself - that could potentially not be to the rest of the family's liking. She returned to her stretches, turning her back to Frank to reveal it in all its massive, barn door-wide glory. It practically ached to be massaged, but some matters were more important.

"I know they could be, but this is what I want." Agnes knew she couldn't get everything she wanted – that wasn't how life worked – but she always found a sense of calm in motherhood, and there was only so much she could teach Vivian, most of which she now knew.

Frank rubbed his temple. He knew his wife would be unrelentingly persistent about the matter had hand. Not that she ever had the heart to, but Agnes could strong-arm him into compliance if needs be. "We should at least talk about it. All of us, that is – including the kids."

Turning back to Frank, Agnes nodded once more. She knew herself that having a family meeting would be the best way to broach the matter. But that didn't mean the woman would get what she wanted. "Let me get changed, then we'll gather to talk about it."

///

Ten minutes later; in the kitchen...

The conversation had gotten heated faster than Agnes liked. As it stood, she was at odds in support for her plans for another child.
"You want to have another kid?" Vivian was understandably shocked by her mother's desire; so shocked, in fact, that she was rendered numb by the suggestion for a moment, before rationally thinking about the concept. For instance, when her potentially new-born brother or sister turned eighteen, she would be sixty by comparison. "Mum, you're sixty-five, not twenty-one. You're not exactly the prime age for mothering, if even you do have noisy nights like me and Greg."
Kyle groaned. "Mum!"

Greg nodded in agreement. There were a number of things that had to be taken into consideration about' the issue.' "I have to agree. Not to be morbid, but what happens if you pass?" Greg saw his mother-in-law's face turn from hopeful to concerned. Right now the odds were not in her favour. "I mean, are you going to put the kid up for adoption..."

"Greg!" Vivian was livid about her husband's evident lack of judgement for the situation, but knew to focus her efforts on her mother's proposal. Be that as it may, Greg was right to ask that question.

"What? It's a genuine concern."  his focus was now completely on on his gargantuan wife, trying to understand how she couldn't see where he came from. "Your mother can't honestly expect us to take the kid on, can she?" He was right once again. Things were tricky enough for the family without the potential inclusion of another member.

"Well..." Agnes drifted off deliberately, knowing just that one word was enough to pull Greg and Vivian back into reality. The truth was Agnes had hoped if things did go sideways with her, Vivian would agree to adopt her potential child. But right now it didn't look like they were in support of the idea of her having another child, let alone adopting them.

Greg rubbed his temple. He was close to bursting with anger and lashing out at this point, most of which had already been bottled up and resisted, as a result of all the hectic relocating on several occasions across the country in the past year alone. Imogen noticed this and took it upon herself to finally chip in after remaining mostly quiet throughout the dilemma - her and Kyle.

"Did anyone stop to think about what I had to say?" Her response was evidently snappy, and in most occasions it would be responded to in turn with an equally irked remark, but this time Imogen's response was met with silence. Her words came as the result of her own pent-up emotions: anger towards Ford; a peculiar, relative fluctuation of feelings towards Sinead... "Or Kyle, for that matter," Imogen added.

Frank looked at his granddaughter pitifully. She was right. They'd been so caught up with the matter that they failed so see if either Kyle or Imogen had opinions of their own. Sure, neither of them knew what it was like to be a parent, but they had parents of their own. Frank gestured for Imogen to speak up.

"Look. I get that Gran isn't at the greatest of ages for having kids." Imogen's words hurt Agnes more than she thought they would. Agnes thought she could depend on at least one of her grandchildren to support her. But Imogen wasn't finished. "But that doesn't mean you get to tell her what she can or can't do. She's your parent, not the other way around."

Vivian stared at her daughter with a, until now, unknown level of respect, not knowing someone like her could be so astute. Even so, Imogen continued, staring confidently at her mother as sharp words shot from her tongue.

"How would you feel if she said you couldn't have another kid?" Imogen knew her words were penetrating her mother's mind and actively helped in making the behemoth woman change her mind about the issue at hand. "It's a bit like when you asked how I would feel if I was being picked on for being attracted to girls. It's the same principle."

Kyle smirked.

Greg heaved a breath not in defeat, but in appreciation for his daughter's mindfulness. It was as if they'd switched up their levels of maturity and wisdom when they were most needed. "You got a point there kid."

"I know I do," Imogen shot back, "because you taught me that principle."

Vivian smiled. "Okay. We might somewhat be at odds over whether you should have a kid, but that's not to say I'm not happy for you to have one – or at least try."

Agnes shot Imogen a brisk thankful smile before responding to her daughter. "Thank you. But believe me, we were gonna try anyway."

Vivian rolled her eyes.

///

That Night; 9PM; Imogen's Room...

Between the incessant moans and grunts of passion from behind the wall and her pent-up anger from yesterday's events, Imogen felt numb. She was lucky hearing the passionate sex could be abated by listening to Debussy's The Girl With the Flaxen Hairthrough her headphones. Did it help to relieve the anger? Not so much. Texting Sinead seemed to do that though.

The text from Sinead came through faster than Imogen initially presumed, forcing the brunette to stop briefly posing in her wall-mounted mirror. Sinead said she was 'BY doin som on9 shopin whIl her parNts wer out,' in one of her previous messages, but whatever the blonde was doing, Imogen was quick to note she always found her texts answered, even if hastily done so.

'We'll if that's wot she wants, hu R they 2 judge?' read the text, in reference to Agnes' present desires. Sinead admitted to herself earlier that for someone like Agnes to want another kid less than normal – but looking at how things had turned out with her family, what was new?

Imogen texted back, her back laid on the fluffiness of her duvet: Right? That's wot I'm saying. In retrospect, Imogen understood why her parents would want to rebel against her grandmother, but quite fancied the idea of being an aunt.

Even so, it was best not to dwell on it.

A fierce thunderstorm soon rolled in. The hot weather those past few days had slowly built up to, but everyone hoped it would come during the day. Imogen loved watching the rain slide down the windows and the distant lightning flash, not to mention listening to the violent rolls of thunder. It wouldn't be much fun when she had to sleep though.

'So wot U shopin for?' Imogen found no shame in prodding Sinead for answers, being overdriven with curiosity. After all, it was one thing to go online shopping, and another to do when ones parents didn't know. '

'Don't worry, you'll c,' came the reply. That certainly got Imogen's attention – in spades, no less. Flexing her bare calf with curiosity, the brunette turned to her bedroom window that overlooked Sinead's - just as Kyle's did – and found the blonde's curtains draped over her window. Just what was she hoping to buy – that question nipped Imogen squarely in the brainbox and it ached to know the answer would be revealed to her in due time: tomorrow.



Author's Note: Got the idea for the next chapter already noted down, but -- that won't come until the one-off gets put out first sometime this week. if you noticed, I wanted Imogen to be a character who has a distinct appreciation for classical music. Will that also show in her workout music? Maybe - seriously, I don't know yet. Do you think it's merely coincidence I chose that musical piece, though? Let me know your thoughts on this chapter, fellas. What do you think Sinead is on the hunt for online?

[Amnoartist]

Muscle Comes With Age
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 8: Ain't Got It In Ya!

The day after "Unrelentingly Persistent;" Iron Hall Gym Reception...

Sinead checked herself over carefully, tucking her head under her armpits to check the calf-length leggings. Beforehand, the nervous blonde wore grey baggy pants that offered no real appeal or pizazz. Thankfully, Imogen came to the rescue and was kind enough to provide something more natural to the task at hand. Even so, they were still tight on Sinead.

"Are my legs not supposed to breathe in these?" Sinead ran a hand down the smoothness of her bubble butt, a discernible difference compared to Imogen's angular glutes that seemed to flex with her every step. The blonde continued in vain to adjust the legwarmers as Imogen approached the empty reception desk. "Immie?"

Imogen turned to Sinead and examined her from the perfect golden locks on her head right down to the dainty pair of gym shoes on her feet. It was almost cute in a way, seeing her friend act so nervous. She was in good hands. Although, Imogen couldn't help but offer even just the tiniest of giggles at Sinead's struggling with the leggings. "Sorry, they're the only pair I knew that would fit you. The rest are...well, too big. It'd be like wearing a tent."

Sinead shifted her hands to the sports bra supporting her bosom. At least it fit well enough without having to make adjustments. "Believe me: I'd settle for the tent."

Imogen laughed again. She knew the leggings would take some getting used to, speaking from experience. Besides, it wouldn't be long before Sinead's attention was focused on working out anyway. She hadn't stopped talking about what her plans were for that day, much to Imogen's amusement. Legs, arms, abs, shoulders...she wanted to work everything in that one day, but Imogen was quick to point out that they'd have to settle on working a specific group. So they settled on arms.

The reception door clicked open to reveal Iron Hall's co-owner, a tall redhead dressed in a unisex workout top and shorts. Her shoulders were bare and capped, pumpkin-sized like Imogen's, but her biceps were clearly larger, as were the split calves that brushed against the wheels of the office chair the woman came to sit on. It looked as though she knew Imogen somehow, much to Sinead's curiosity.

"Ah, Immie. Back at it again, huh?" The redhead offered Imogen a friendly smile as she pulled out a clipboard with a series of forms on it, some of which were blank, others filled out. "It's been a while since you last set foot in here. Where you been girl?"

Imogen chuckled, unaware that a nervous Sinead hung back behind her, using the brunette's large back as a protective wall to hide her. She wasn't scared of the redhead, per-se. It was just—she presumed Imogen was the girl around to have looked that big. Guess not. Sinead turned her attention to the door at her right that led into the gym, where she found several gym-goers having at the equipment, men and women.

"Well, you know I had to move, Sarah. Wouldn't be here if things didn't work out." That was all Imogen said, as she knew her redhead confidant would understand. Imogen eyeballed Sinead from the corner of her eye and pulled away to reveal the anxious blonde to Sarah. Sarah didn't utter a single word at this, but simply smiled as she always did, before pulling out one of the forms and handed it to Imogen.

"How'd the move go then? You all settled in now, yeah?"

Imogen nodded, looking at the all too familiar form. "All's good now."

"Your membership's due a renewal, hon'. So what will it be this time? A month? Six months? A year again?" Sarah observed the cautious Imogen read through the different workout and diet plans and their associating prices. It was never an easy decision to pick a plan. And sure, most of her growth came on its own as she aged, but that didn't mean it was impossible for her to make natural gains of her own. It just didn't happen as often. The redhead eyeballed Sinead also reading the plan, and she suddenly remembered. "We do have a Couples plan on sale right now, half price, if you're interested?"

Sinead and Imogen's faces turned beet red with embarrassment at Sarah's insinuation, granted it wasn't that abysmal an assumption. There was a certain look in Sinead's eyes that Sarah noticed when she first saw her. Not to mention Sarah had been in that particular situation herself, once. Even so, Sinead and Imogen both offered their own unique responses in unison:

"Oh, we're not seeing each other."
"No, we're just friends."

Sarah offered a stifled snicker as she drew her attention to Imogen filling out her form, predictably opting for her standard option: a year's subscription. Sinead, remarkably, did the same without hesitation. Sarah could see a certain determination boiling deep within the blonde.

"Oh, I assumed you two were— What with happened to Hayley and all—"

Imogen feigned a cough, hinting at Sarah to stop. This, of course, made Sinead curious, but it seemed as though the subject matter was a sensitive one. Who was Hayley and who was she to Imogen? It was an intriguing question, and yet— Sinead had no idea she already knew the answer. Imogen turned her attention to the same door Sinead looked through earlier. It went without saying she was eager to train.

///

Half an hour later; Iron Hall Gym

"That's it, keep your pace slow and steady. Watch your back – keep it straight." Imogen watched Sinead from behind, hands over the blonde's curvaceous hips and making sure her form was good. She slipped up a couple of times, but nothing to fuss over. It was when the brunette stood behind Sinead that the girls' respective widths were contrasted. It went without saying Imogen was always the widest of the two, but Sinead only saw just how much wider from observing through the mirror wall; Imogen's capped pumpkin'd deltoids poked humorously past that of her smaller friend's. "Make sure to breathe too, though," the brunette added with a giggle.

Imogen didn't say that just for humour's sake. She could see that Sinead blundered by holding her breath while curling. Sure, Imogen made the same mistake in years past, but now she was essentially a perfection who pointed out even the slightest error. She reached her hand over Sinead chest and looked at the girl knowingly, who know what she implied. The blonde eventually released a sharp breath, allowing a gust of air to brush over her fringe.

"Good," Imogen smiled.

While Imogen maintained her efforts to spot Sinead, Ford's girlfriend Laura ploughed through her own workout. Ever since her last encounter with Sinead earlier in the week, the redhead had ramped up her diet and workout regimen to be more in line with Ford's. The results weren't coming rapid like the redhead had hoped, but they were low-key showing: she was running and training faster, applying more resistance to the weights she used, ate more... she was slowly turning herself into an absolute machine, basically.

Be that as it may, Laura's efforts to bulk up completely contradicted Ford's initial statement about Imogen. He seemed to be okay with what Laura was doing, though, which seemed to stem from some sort of jealousy. All in all, Ford's opinion was hypocritical.

Imogen eyeballed Laura jump up from her push-up position and pull into an abs and thighs pose, right leg thrust out in front. The distinctive quad sweep was there, albeit faintly, but it was coming into play faster than normal. Following suit were the crunched abs; six visibly defined blocks of she-beef flaring in and out of existence with her every breath. It was as if bricks had literally been shoved down her gullet and swallowed whole.

Eventually Laura glimpsed Imogen's curious glances and took it upon herself to approach the larger girl head-on, for whatever hostile reason she deemed suitable. The redhead made sure to keep her abs tight to appear more imposing. Of course Imogen was the larger of the two, but also the quietest – the pacifist, so to speak. Laura's calf beef rippled with her quick approaching steps; thick ligaments pulling to and fro against her smooth, sweaty skin.

"Seems we got a couple of dykes spreading their stink in this place." Laura watched Sinead put a brake on her curling as she, like her friend did before facing the redhead directly, looked through the mirror wall at her. Sinead was at a loss, actually. She never did like Laura, but the blonde found herself confused over what her adversary meant.

"What's a dyke?" she asked Imogen, in the hopes that she could provide an answer. But Imogen responded differently from what was initially presumed:

"Never mind that. Let's get out of here." Imogen knew it was a bad idea to train at Iron Hall after she spotted Laura, but didn't want to put a dent on Sinead's plan for that day. It looked like she was having fun, after all. But Laura sought to disrupt that, taking after her juiced-up boyfriend. "We'll train someplace else."

"Yeah, run back to that freak show you call a family." Laura clearly found some kind of sick enjoyment in annoying Imogen the way she did. That, plus it sounded like she had some experience in saying things like that. Laura hoped if she annoyed her enough, Imogen would react aggressively in turn, which the redhead would use to her advantage. Imogen clearly had a bit of pent-up anger, but there was only so much she could take. "Bunch of weirdos."

"Back off, Laura." Sinead stared the redhead down bravely, discounting the fact she was somewhat – somehow – outsized by her just slightly, even though they were the same body type and weight earlier that week. It would've been mind-boggling to the blonde if it weren't for her being purposefully blind to the fact.

Despite that, Laura scoffed, sizing up the bold blonde with a smug grin. Compared to Sinead, the redhead felt superior – even though it was mostly Ford's characteristics brushing off of her. Laura compared herself to Sinead: she was wider, more defined and cut... Laura compared her rival to a toothpick. But then there was Imogen— "The fuck you gonna do?" Laura called out with a smug grin.

She was right? What could Sinead do? She was really good at standing up for herself when it mattered, but Laura looked like she was ready to throw punches. Her confidence hindered, the blonde backed up away from the redhead. Even so, Imogen noticed this uncharacteristic display of anxiety and took it upon herself to back her friend; she invaded Laura's space by grabbing her tightly by the shoulder, asserting her position in the situation at hand before speaking:

"Would ask you the same question." Imogen made sure to offer an unnerving smile at the otherwise antagonistic redhead, even if it was faked. She hoped it would be enough for Laura to rethink the situation she'd put herself in, but— she pulled Imogen's hand free and pushed the girl back with surprising force - not enough to knock her on her back, but having to correct her footing. It didn't take much to assume Imogen was surprised.

By now a small group of gym-goers had gathered round the brewing hostility between two girls, with Sinead caught uncomfortably in the middle having to watch it unfold, knowing she couldn't do much to stop it. She could obviously jump to Imogen's side for support, but what good would that do? She'd have to do something – right?

Having now recovered from that surprising push, Imogen had her fist clenched tightly, ready to throw a punch. Judging by the snarky expression she showed, it looked as though Laura wanted Imogen to do just that. But the brunette knew better: it would only make things worse.

"You ain't got it in ya." Laura reflected Sinead's initial reaction back at the brooding brunette, staring her down with a clenched fist, bicep tissue rolling violently under her skin. Laura knew she had the upper hand at this point, but it wasn't enough to just know that. She had to make it a point to call attention to the fact. "You know if you throw the punch and hit me, I'll just do the same to your little friend here. God knows what you'd do then."

Sinead blinked confusedly. "What?" Laura clearly didn't care anymore.

Imogen pulled Sinead over to her side, holding her tightly by the hand. Things would eventually come to a head if someone didn't step in to stop—

"The fuck's going on here?"

The crowd and budding enemies turned to Sarah marching over, clearly displeased with how things seemed to be going. She'd paid good money to run a gym with her fiancé, not a fight club. At any rate, Imogen and Sinead were pleased to see their guardian angel come in the nick of time to save the day – or them, as the case was.

"You got lesbians training in this gym, that's what." Laura didn't care if her homophobic views came into the light the way they did. She was just so disgusted by the fact the gym owner allowed such a thing to happen. "I came here to train up, not turn gay.

'Turn' gay. That irked Sarah more than she cared to admit. It reminded her of that time when her father felt the same way, before he eventually changed his ways. Even so, Laura's lack of knowledge in how sexuality worked annoyed Sarah; she approached and cast a shadow over the comparatively smaller redhead.

"If you feel that way, you definitely shouldn't fucking be here."

Laura was quick to react the way Sarah had hoped. She didn't leave in a frantic manner, but did so slowly and with a final staredown at the redhead. And while she vowed to never return to Iron Hall ever again while Imogen and Sinead trained there, a certain flame in Laura burned only brighter when she saw Sarah in all her glory.

Sarah looked round the crowd still gathered. "Alright show's over folks. Closing up early today."

Imogen and Sinead made an effort to blend in with the dispersing crowd, but—

"Hey, I want to talk to you two," Sarah called out to them, forcing the two girls to stop dead in their tracks, so close to the door.

//

Later; Iron Hall Gym's Reception...

"Hey, thanks for saving our asses back there." Sinead took a generous swig from the fresh protein shake Sarah concocted on the fly while the blonde and Imogen rested up. The shake was a mix of banana and blueberry which had a surprisingly nice taste.

"Don't worry about it." Truthfully, Sarah knew Laura was a problem, or at least going to be one, long before Sinead and Imogen did. There were rumours starting to spread that she was lightly juicing up to beef up quicker. It seemed the antagonism shown earlier was a sure-fire sign that hormone-induced rage was next on the list. Such things would dampen the positive vibes Iron Hall strived to maintain. "Just... stay away from people like her."

"That's going to be difficult," Imogen admitted. She rubbed her arm and felt its respective swollen she-meat bulge as the blood flow from her workout still travelled at a freakish pace, veins popping to the surface of her skin. She didn't experience any growth this time round, but when her birthday came— "She goes to the same college as us and we bump into her all the time."

"Almost every day," Sinead added in agreement. She knew Ford was a problem, but it was clear Laura was a bigger threat. The fact that she was clearly juicing only heightened the issue. "Not to mention the fact her boyfriend is also on the hunt for Imogen's brother Kyle because he's gay."

"You talked to the Principal about it?" Sarah wanted to help, but wasn't sure how she could do that. It was heart-breaking to hear her former college had a problem like this now – if it were the case when she was a student, it would be straightened out pronto.

Imogen shook her head. It wasn't so easy to talk to the college Principal about a female taking steroids, especially when the person coming to report the issue could just as easily themselves be accused of being it.

"I wish there was something I could do to help you guys, but for now you'll just have to roll with it." Sarah hated herself for having to say that, but she was right. As she was no longer a student, she couldn't step in to help, couldn't waltz into the college to stop the problem.

"Yeah." Sinead thought as much that Sarah would respond that way. That wasn't to say she didn't like the response. It was just— it felt good to at least bring the situation to light. "Thanks, anyway."

The two girls pulled themselves up from their chairs and headed to the door. Their plan after the  workout was to simply hang around together, but considering how mentally draining things turned out to be with Laura, it was anyone's guess what happened next.

"If you girls need anything, don't be afraid to pop by." Sarah smiled, as did the budding friends in return just before they left.



Author's Note: Clearly this is more of a plot-centric piece to the series. I wanted to add more to Sinead and Imogen's relationship, while adding a layer to their antagonism with Laura. On the note of Laura – is she juicing, or do you think there's more to her getting bigger than that? Do you want to see a chapter in the future that's completely dedicated to her relationship with Ford? And...who's Hayley, then? Hmmm?