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[xepha]

this is so good, hoping there's more!  K

[xepha]

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[muscleboytom]

Incredible writing! Please continue...Can't wait to learn how big she is as in weight, stats, strength ... please let her keep growing bigger!

Tommy

[mrshhh]

   It didn't dawn on me until I was walking through the parking lot in the dim September light that I'd never been to a cafe so early on a Saturday morning before.  Normally I'd still be passed out in my bed, catching up on a week's worth of sleep-debt instead of strolling into a coffee shop at 7:15 like a senior citizen.
   Inside, I was struck by how less busy my suddenly new-favourite Starbucks was then on a weekday.  I only saw two green aprons behind the counter, but before I could scan for further details, an angry customer stormed towards me clutching his coffee. 
   "Your head office is going to hear about this!  I've never been so disgusted in my life.  That freak belongs in a circus, not a professional establishment like this!" 
   I stepped out of the way as the customer blew past me and out the door.  Despite not knowing what had just happened, I felt a little shaken by his outburst.  Apparently I was the only one, as the smattering of other patrons seated around the cafe barely raised an eyebrow from their laptops and newspapers. 
   I approached the cashier and motioned to the still-fuming customer through the glass window behind me.  "You get a lot of guys like that in here?"
   The middle-aged cashier just rolled her eyes.  "You have no idea..."   
   I placed my order and started over to the hand-off area.  I must've momentarily forgotten why I was there because I was surprised when I saw the beefy blonde barista at her usual station.  She smiled at me over the top of the espresso machine she was working on and I was reminded that despite being the musclebound girl-stud of my dreams, she was really quite short. 
   "Good morning Americano man.  Working today?"  She asked in that half girly, half unnaturally-deep voice of hers.  "Or should I be honoured you've chosen to grace me with your presence?"
   Before I could consider a response, I spat out a sassy answer as if I were speaking to any average girl.     
   "A pretty girl invites me back to her place, I take her up on that offer."
   Cold, icy horror struck me a half a second later.  What the hell did I just say?  Luckily for me, the barista laughed - quite loudly and deeply enough that I got the definite sense she was putting on the higher part of her vocal range.   
   "You're a funny guy, Darren.  That's why I'll kill you last."  She shot back.  Now it was my turn to laugh.  Whoa - cute, buff AND funny?  I was in love, I thought.
   Feeling just the slightest bit relaxed for the first time around her, I passed the espresso machine and came to a stop at the hand-off counter to talk some more.  That's when I gasped aloud.  I must've sounded like I stepped on a loose nail, because both the blonde and the cashier nearby looked at me with concern.
   "You okay?"  The blonde enquired, her concern slowly turning into a knowing smirk.  She knew exactly why I'd just pulled a full-blown Cosmo Kramer, and her grin told me she liked it quite a bit.
   Unlike my previous visits where she'd concealed the entirety of her physique in a loose-fitting shirt, today the barista was wearing a sexy tight-fitting top with short sleeves that only half-covered her arms.  What was revealed before me was beyond even my vivid imagination.  This girl's arms weren't just muscular, they were obscene.  Big, scary Roman columns of shredded, vein-wrapped girl-beef.  There was so much muscle packed onto her that looking at her huge guns was like being shot with one. 
   The thin, straining skin that tried to contain her muscles was this boner-popping, hyper-sexualized brown/bronze color that shone under the cafe's track lighting.  It was so deeply-tanned, so blatantly artificial that I half expected her to begin a posing routine or strip show right there behind the bar. 
   Her muscle-mass wasted no time at all, starting right at her wrists and expanding dramatically every inch further-up her arm I looked.  I'd by now expected her to carry some serious gym-bro bulk, but I'd had no idea - no idea at all!  By the time my gaze reached her upper forearms, she looked as if she had two full-sized hams stuffed under her skin.  Those were further stacked-upon with thick, heavy slabs of muscle layered atop one another.  I could see generous, meaty tendons shifting and tightening as she worked the steaming handle.  But that was just a light warm-up. 
   Past her small elbow, her arms blew-up into the most massive, freakish bi's and tri's I'd ever seen in my life.  I'd never even seen a photo like her, let alone a live person, let alone a short GIRL!  Her biceps were so brutally developed that they had a sweeping round swell to them even when her arms were straight, and one massive, jaw-dropping hulk of a vein straining across each peak.  Her triceps were absolutely massive and would've been huge on a man twice her height.  But she obviously wasn't satisfied being mere bulking-phase huge, because all this ultra-masculine muscle-meat was lean as fuck.  This girl was cut.  Shredded.  She was so ripped to the bone that it was gross to look at. 
   Each minor movement of the barista's arms sent cascades of definition rippling through her muscle groups.  She seemed to be flexing for me without effort, or like her arms had hidden electrodes stuck to them shocking the tendons to life.  Muscles that I didn't know existed were distinct, carved shapes stuffed with knotted rope.  And everything, every last inch of her, was crawling - no ERUPTING with vascularity.  The main arteries that descended from her chest - clearly and pervertedly bulging across the heaving pecs beneath her over-taxed shirt - were bigger than I thought veins could be.  Without hyperbole, they were the size of a child's wrist - even bigger in places, and were so fat and bloated that they wadded-up and criss-crossed over her every swell and bulge, even filling the valleys between her monster-muscles. 
   Everywhere I looked, there was more she-muscle, more deep-clawed definition - more swollen, skin-stretching veins worming everywhere.  For all of the muscle-insanity I could see, there was far more unseen fighting to split open her top.  The shape and thickness of huge, sausage-sized veins could be seen squirming under the tight material around her deltoid heads, her traps, and emerging from her collar.  I remembered her hands from the previous day - the shocking sight of so much vascularity and muscle on them, and I realized how insignificant it now was in the face of the rest of her.  There was nothing at all feminine about her body - no mere hint of breasts or a single sensual curve.  She was just a brute-necked, huge-shouldered, pec-stuffed muscle he-man in every way possible.   
   "I know you've been admiring my muscles, Darren," the barista began, snapping me back to her face and losing some of that chipper girlyness in her voice.  The alarming baritone manliness of it now made sense - and for as wrong as it was, it sounded right coming from the slab of beef she called a body.  "People stare at me all the time, all day long, but I know YOU like what you see." 
   I wanted to protest, but my mouth was dry as a desert and even simple words escaped me.  But the barista continued.  "I actually recognized you for the first time yesterday.  You still don't recognize me, do you?" 
   I fought to keep my eyes from the blonde's inhuman testosterone physique and maintain my gaze with her eyes.  I hadn't really examined her face closely, and trying to see past her extreme contest-day muscle ugliness, I saw a college-aged beauty that felt strangely, vaguely familiar. 
   "I don't blame you," she added, maybe even blushing a little at my mild recognition.  "I've put a lot of work into this body thanks to you.  The name's Chase.  Chase Cassidy."
   

[taoschild]

  Great to have the master of description back at it.

[QBikk]

Very well written, looking forward for the next installments.

[seldom]

I'm so glad you went with the insanely gargantuan muscle behemoth! Hooray! Chase is fantastic!

Also, bravo for working "muscle ugly" in so naturally!

[bicepboy]

Nice work. The Chase is on.

[phil123]

So now he gets a Relation with Chase. What will happen next?

[M7]

Well written and I like the descriptions of how he feels when he sees this muscle beast. Nice work. K+++  I'm feeling compelled to head over to the nearest Starbucks!

[Jimthehunter54]

Brilliant story. Can't wait to see it continue

[sgsg69]

You are always a great read, the subtle style makes for a visually stunning scene, K++++++++


Thanks

[0scott]

what a story, wish could see more in the short future.

[batuffolino]

I have to bump this story up. Great read and hoping to see more of it

[QBikk]

Hey mrshhh, any news from your excellent story? It would be nice to be able to read some more

[mrshhh]

        Tucked in an intimate corner of the cafe, I found myself sitting at a table across from the blonde barista.  I still hadn't figured out why she sounded so familiar.  Chase Cassidy.  Clearly I knew her from somewhere, and she definitely knew me. 
   After dropping her name like a brain-grenade a few moments before, she had asked me to wait while she finished up her que of drinks.  After that, she'd requested to take her meal break with her shift supervisor before disappearing through a swinging door into the store's stock room.   
   When she emerged, she clutched a smart phone and a coffee mug with a picture of a cartoon muscleman and the words "lift hard, play hard" on it. 
   Now sitting before me with the early light of the morning painting her through the windows behind and without a green apron draped across her incredibly tight black polo shirt, she seemed positively superhuman.  I'd read on forums how bodybuilders in person were even more impressive than in pictures, and I instantly understood what they meant.  Chases' mere presence was overwhelming to every one of my five senses.  There was a mass and weight to her that I could actually feel from my seat.  I noticed that her huge shoulders were wider than the table, and her even huger upper arms extended well beyond that.  By comparison, I looked down before myself and noted there was at least 8-10 inches of table on either side of my own skinny arms.
   "So what's a barista drink on their coffee break?"  I asked awkwardly, trying to keep my mind off the literal orgy of muscles before me.
   "Single origin Sumatra pour over.  Black of course," Chase answered politely.  "Gotta watch the carbs if I want to get lean."
   I swallowed hard and struggled to maintain my eye-line with her face.  Get lean?  This girl looked like she was prepped to walk onto a competition stage, tonight.  Hell, when she spoke, I could see clear striations ripple through her thick jaw muscles.  She was peeled from head to toe.         
   "You really don't remember me, do you?"  Chase asked playfully, in a manner that suggested she wasn't really surprised.  "Thornbrook Secondary.  I was in grade nine when you were a senior.  I got made fun of a lot.  They used to call me Chubby Chaser."
   A dusty old lightbulb sparked to life in my mind. 
   "No bloody way.  You were that pudgy little girl that used to bug me about my comics!"  I blurted in probably the most insensitive manner possible.
   "Yes!  That tubby ball of anxiety was me!"  Chase beamed.  "And your comics were awesome by the way!  I swear to god there were times that they were the only thing that got me through the day."
   My comics.  I hadn't thought about them for years, and now they'd come up twice in the span of a week.  I was immediately flooded by a wave of warm memories, drawing and selling my superhero strips to local comic shops around town.  It was a lot of fun, and I very nearly decided to go into comics as a career before changing to graphic design.  But as my thoughts turned to old memories of Chase, the glow dimmed.  Slowly, I sunk into my seat. 
"What...?"  She noted.
   "I kind of feel like an asshole now, but I er - used to skip eating in the cafeteria sometimes just avoid you."  I admitted, shamefully. 
   "I know," she grinned.  "I was a lot to take back then.  You went to that spot outside, behind the bleachers, right?  Where nobody bothered you?"
   I quickly sat up.  "...How did you know that?" I asked.
   "That's the same place I went when I wanted to be alone.  I read a lot of your comics there," Chase continued.  "I've got to admit, I always thought you were so cool.  You were this cool artist dude, all chill and easy going, you had a cool goatee.  I mean, you published your own superhero comics!  And you were one of the only people in the whole school who was nice to me whenever we spoke, even when I drove you nuts with all my dumb fangirl questions."         
   I felt a knot of shame in my soul.  I'd never been the most popular kid growing up, but I'd also had the good fortune of being almost universally liked.  Or maybe more accurately, tolerated.  I guess I had just the right amount of looks and personality to coast through life without much friction.  But I also knew how tough it could be for a lot of other kids - the weirdos and freaks.  The ones like Chubby Chaser.  So I'd tried to treat them all right.  I guess I never knew how impactful a small kindness could be.   
   "They were that bad to you, huh?" I asked quietly.
   "Yeah, school was rough.  But I probably never would have discovered your art if I'd been little miss popularity," Chase smiled.  "You drew the best heroines.  Diamond-Hard was my favourite.  I couldn't believe how sexy she was.  It was the first time I'd seen a girl with muscles."
   I nearly face-palmed at the sound of that name spoken aloud.  Diamond-Hard.  God, how obvious could I get?  I was already deep into muscular girls by high school, and as much as I tried, I couldn't resist drawing my female characters with tight, chiseled bodies.  I must've looked like such a tool.     
   "I think it's safe to say that your artwork is what got me interested in bodybuilding in the first place."  Chase noted, lowering her eyelids seductively.
   Wait, what?
   She shifted her immense physique in her seat and slowly leaned closer, creating an intimacy that shrank the room until there was only the space between us. 
   "I've never told anyone this," She continued with a note of vulnerability in her deep voice, "but there was this one time I was hiding out at those bleachers – probably skipping class to read comics or something, when you showed up.  You had a black sketch book with you that I'd never seen before."
   My throat suddenly closed-up.  Uh-oh.  Surely she didn't mean the sketch book I thought she meant. 
   "I-I don't remember ever seeing you there?"  I coughed.
   "I was up on the high part of the benches.  You ended up sitting right below me.  You never even knew I was there.  When you opened up your sketch book, I couldn't believe what I saw."
   Holy shit.  My heart started pounding in my chest.  I'd never shown that sketch book to a soul.  I would've gone to my grave to protect its secrets.
   "It was full of drawings of really muscular women.  No... muscular isn't even an adequate description.  These weren't like Diamond-Hard – y'know, sexy babes with muscles.  They were these steroid muscle freaks.  They looked like male bodybuilders with pretty heads."
   Holy fucking shit...!
   "And that was just the start.  As you flipped through the pages, the women just got more and more muscular.  I remember that you'd drawn some of them so musclebound, it was truly disgusting.  There was so much muscle that it looked like their skin had been peeled off.  And they had veins all over them - big and thick like snakes.  Some of the girls had big boobs, but most of them had flat, masculine chests.  The last couple of drawings didn't even look like girls at all – no hips or asses, just muscles everywhere.  They even had muscles in their faces and pussies."
   As I sat there listening, I wished I could turn invisible.  This was my worst nightmare come to life.  I'd taken every precaution never to have those drawings get out.
   "After you left, I felt sick to my stomach.  I mean, I think I went home and barfed in the toilet." Chase continued. 
   I felt like I was going to die right there in my chair.
   "But I couldn't get the images out of my head.  I didn't understand how you could possibly like these girls that barely looked like girls.  But the more I thought about them, the more they turned me on.  I realized that I LIKED the wrongness.  I LIKED the way their muscles were a big middle finger to everyone who judged them.  I realized that... I wanted to BE them."
    Silence struck the air like a bucket of cold water. 
   "And I think having a crush on you might have had something to do with it too."  Chase added with a giggle. 
   The metaphorical lights suddenly kicked back on as Chases' supervisor wildly waved her down to return to the floor.  In the intervening moments since we'd sat down, the store had become noticeably busier. 
   "Looks like daddy's gotta go to work." Chase joked before getting up and taking her mug.  "Want to meet up again later?  I'm not doing anything tonight."
   At this point things were happening so fast that I could barely keep up. 
   "Y-you mean like a date...?"  I sputter like an absolute idiot.
   Chase simply stared back at me.
   "I mean, not a date."  I back-pedalled.  "That would be stupid.  I'm stupid —"
   "Sure."  Came a sharp, decisive answer.  "Like a date.  We can see a movie or something."
   All I could manage was a nod and a smile, but that seemed good enough for Chase.  She smiled back at me before heading towards the swinging door and disappearing into the stock room.
   I sat for a moment with my cold untouched coffee trying to figure out whether everything I'd just witnessed had been real or if instead and far more likely, I'd woken up inside the Matrix.   
   I was broken from my daze by a text.  Popping open my phone, I found a message from an unknown number. 
   "Do I look like one of your drawings yet?"  It asked, leading to a picture.  I shakily scrolled down and gasped aloud. 
   A familiar black shirt had been pulled up well above an exposed navel while simultaneously, a small, veiny hand was pushing down the waist of a set of jeans.  An entire swath of bodybuilder-tanned, rippling 6-pack was left flaunted and flexed for my eyes only.  Every inch of this androgynous muscleman belly was painfully chiselled and defined.  Abs were thick and protruded with girthy muscle mass from her stomach.  Obliques were sharply separated and ghoulish striations rippled through their tight, ham hock masses.  The hypertrophy was so severe that there was a thick, brutal roid gut pressing her abs unnaturally outward and casting a shadow over her steely abductor muscles.
   "Ffffff--"
   Moving my eyes down the image, I marvelled at how the hand pictured had pushed her jeans so far down that her cotton panties were exposed.  I could actually see the top of her pussy mound, but that erotic detail was nothing compared to the overwhelming onslaught of  shredded bodybuilder muscle erupting from her crotch.   
   "—uuuu"
   Everything between her hips was 100% pure competition shred-meat.  Lines of definition were carved an inch deep into her groin like arrows pointing straight to her sex.  But the thing that made me nearly drop my phone were the huge, bulging, swollen veins exploding out of her panties.   
   "—ccck..!"
   Thumb-thick veins squiggled and bunched around her swollen pussy lips, then travelled up her crotch-abs in increasingly complex and aggressive spiderweb networks.  I'd never seen such a grotesque level of vascularity on any bodybuilder, let alone between a girls' legs!
   "Chase, there you are!  We need you on bar 2!"  A supervisor barked as Chase emerged from the stock room.  I turned and glanced across the cafe to see her zipping up her jeans and pulling her shirt down.  She tossed me a devilish grin.  She'd shot that selfie in the stock room just now?  FUCK.
   I was in for a wild Saturday night...