Chapter 5: Breakthroughs

I woke up early on Friday because I never really fell asleep. I woke up at sunrise and tried to call Angie again. I let the phone ring and ring, and the whole time I was looking at the shiny new cord that the maintenance man put in when he fixed the handset, after Becky Finklestein broke it. The call went to voicemail but I didn’t want to leave a message. I just wanted to hear Angie. “Oh my God this is totally Angie you guys. Leave a message or whatever,” the recorded voice said. She was so hot.

She was the most important thing in my life, except my car and maybe my Motley Crue box set. I hung up the phone before the voicemail beeped. I turned to leave, but before I did, I picked up the handset again and squeezed as hard as I could, trying to shatter it the way that Becky Finklestein had. Nothing happened. It didn’t shatter, or crack, or even bend. Maybe the new handset was a newer model, a better brand maybe. That was probably it.

It was still a couple of hours before the New Beginnings center opened, so I went out on the walking trail that ran along the edge of the property to have some smokes and clear my head. All I could think about was Becky Finklestein. I ran for a quarter mile or so and I was feeling better, but then I remembered Becky’s arm busting out of her sweatsuit on Monday. In my memory I wasn’t across the barn, I was right there beside her, so I could have counted the freckles on her bicep as it split the seam on her gray sweatshirt. So I stopped and did like maybe a hundred pushups and I was feeling better, but then I remembered Becky’s back, glutes and thighs all bulging and shredded as she pulled down the front of her panties to show Doctor Allen her twat. In my memory, she was looking in the mirror, staring right at my reflection, popping a bubble. Did that happen or was I just imagining it? I was still all worked up when I reached the fence that surrounded the New Beginnings center’s property. The trail kept going into the hills and I still had another 90 minutes until breakfast, so I hopped the fence and kept jogging, because Becky was still in my head, throwing off my game. I started throwing punches while I jogged and started singing “Kickstart my Heart” and I was feeling better, but then I remembered Miss Nakamura collapsing as Becky forced her into a kiss. In my memory, I could see Becky’s tongue making bulges in Miss Nakamura’s cheek as she forced the kiss to go on longer and longer, while the librarian pounded her little fist against Becky’s pecs, at least until she started to get off. I think Becky saw me out of the corner of her eye and winked before she licked Miss Nakamura’s ejaculate off of her fingers. Did any of that happen? I didn’t even remember.

I kept jogging up to the hillside overlooking the camp and sat down to grab a smoke. I didn’t know what to do. That little girl was all up in my head. She was playing crazy mind games, but I knew I could persevere. I ain’t never let nobody dominate me before, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let a four-foot-nothing girl with a retainer and glasses do it. I thought about Angie, and how she loved me, and how she kissed me and rubbed me after I beat the shit out of one dude or another. For her, I could be a hero. I was feeling pretty good looking down over the New Beginnings center. I was ready to be a king again.

When I got back to the dorm I was wicked tired so I slept through breakfast. But at least I was sleeping. Joey came and woke me up for our group therapy session. I hated that shit. We sat in a circle, and took turns answering the same three questions. We were supposed to look at the counselor when we were speaking, but keep our eyes closed when other dudes were talking. It was the same three questions every time, but some of the guys had different answers each week and the counselor, Dr. Jacobsen, who boss of the New Beginnings center, acted like they were all great for being different than they were the week before. The first kid to go was Joey, and he had to say why he did what he did to get sent to New Beginnings, then talk about a time in his life that he felt in control, then talk about a time in his life when he felt powerless. And the rest of us had to listen to that shit. Normally I didn’t close my eyes when other dudes talked, but it was hot so the windows were open, and I was tired, so it was kind of nice to relax. Then all of a sudden I heard Dr. Jacobsen’s voice. “Stephen,” he said, “why did you do what you did to get sent here?”

Because these dudes were all hitting on my hot-ass girlfriend,” I said. “I have to protect what’s mine.”

“And tell me about a time in your life that you felt in control.”

“When I beat the shit out of those dudes who were hitting on my hot ass girlfriend.”

“I like that answer, Stephen. Our hearts see power, control, and victory as the same thing. Our heads know that it’s quite a bit more complicated, though. Now tell me about a time in your life that you felt powerless.”

I was about to tell him to fuck off, because I never felt powerless, when Becky Finklestein appeared in the window behind him. She was wearing the same gray sweatsuit from Monday, but it looked tighter. Maybe just because I knew what was underneath it. She raised her arm and flexed, but this time, instead of tearing, her sleeve ripped apart instantly as her bicep broke through it. Gray fabric was hanging in shreds from her wrist while her freckled bicep gleamed with sweat. I swear her arm was even bigger today than she was on Wednesday, and it looked harder too, like there were no soft lines anywhere on it. She winked at me, turned toward her arm, and blew a bubble of pink bubblegum that inflated until it touched her bicep. Becky inflated the bubble slowly, until it popped against the rock-hard mass of her arm. Then Doctor Allen ran up. She stopped cold at the sight of Becky’s bicep, and almost fell over. Becky smirked and put her arm down. Doctor Allen held up two shopping bags from Macy’s. The nearest Macy’s was in Des Moines, according to Angie, so the doctor must have been gone all day to pick those up. Becky reached into the bag and pulled out a pink bikini with little white designs on it. She nodded and Doctor Allen smiled and blushed. Becky stroked Doctor Allen’s hair and pointed off toward the library. Then they both walked away.

“Stephen, I’m very proud of you,” Dr. Jacobsen said. “It takes courage to cry. This a real breakthrough”

“I ain’t crying, bitch,” I said, but I reached up to my cheeks and they were wet. Probably I was allergic to something, since they had the windows open and my eyes were watering.

I tried not to talk to anyone the rest of the day, I just kept waiting to hear from Angie so I could tell her to go away and wait for me until I got out. But she never came, and she never answered my calls. By the time lights out came around I was tired. It was a shitty day, but it was almost over. Then I saw headlights outside the window by my bunk. Then I heard a horn honk in the distance, but it wasn’t a normal honk. It was “Girls, Girls, Girls,” by the Crue. That was my Firebird. I was out of the door like a shot, running through the grounds, hopping the fence and heading to the headlights in the distance. My car was parked in a little gravel parking lot outside the center grounds. Leaning against it was Angie. She was five foot ten inches, ninety-three pounds of hot. She was wearing cutoff jean shorts that hung so low I could see her pelvic bones peeking out from the belt line, and a Def Leppard T-shirt that was cropped so high I could see every single one of her ribs. That’s why she didn’t call. She was stopping to get my car. She brought me two of the three greatest loves of my life. Hell I’ll say it; she brought me the two greatest loves of my life. I can always get another Motley Crue box set.

I didn’t say nothing. I just grabbed her, spun her around and kissed her. And it felt great. I held her there, leaning against my Firebird, and looking in her blue eyes while she rubbed my triceps. “Oh my God,” she said. “I like totally love your muscles or whatever.”

“I love you too, baby,” I said. And for the first time in my life I meant it. “Hey, did you bring the stuff we talked about before I got sent away?” I asked.

“It’s like totally in the trunk, “she said.

I kissed her again then went to the trunk, unlocked it, and got my stuff out. It was mostly all sports stuff, just in case the center didn’t have a workout room or anything. I had my gym bag with a football and some baseballs and baseball gloves, and I had a couple wooden bats and a couple of aluminum bats and a basketball or two. I took all that stuff out and set it on the ground, and then I saw what I was really looking for, my old GI Joe lunchbox. I opened it up, looked inside it and smiled. I kind of stashed it behind a rock because I felt kind of sketchy being out in the light in the gravel parking lot. I wanted to go somewhere safer, but when I looked at Angie, all I could think about was banging her out on the hood of my car. “Is that like all the stuff?” Angie asked. “I think I got it all but I totally forgot to make a list or whatever.”

“That’s it babe,” I said, picking her up by her ass and lifting her onto the hood of the Firebird. “So did you miss me?

“I like totally missed your muscles and stuff,” she said. “Have you been working out? Can I feel your arms?”

“I missed you too,” I said, flexing my right arm.

Angie’s eyes twinkles. “Oh my God, it’s totally big or whatever” she said. She had a way with words that turned me on almost as much as her tiny boobs and bony midsection.

Then I heard the crunching of gravel. “You call that a muscle? Because it looks like a piece of shhhpaghetti to me.”

I felt sick to my stomach. For a few beautiful moments, I had forgotten about Becky Finklestein, but there she was stepping into the circle of light around my car. She was wearing blue high heels, with her toenails painted alternating shades of red and yellow, and a shimmering blue track suit, and she had tied up her pigtails in little red and yellow ribbons. But what stood out most was her face. She didn’t have her glasses on, and her hair was all shiny and styled and she was wearing makeup. She was beautiful. I never really saw it before, but she had a soft, oval face with low cheekbones, cupid-bow lips, bright green eyes and perfect skin. Perfect except for the freckles at least. “You must be Angie,” she said to my girlfriend.

“Totally nice to meet you, little girl,” Angie said. “Who are you again?”

“I’m Becky Finklestein. I’m in charge of Stephen while he’s here.”

“That’s like totally cute,” Angie said, looking at me. “Is that like that time that your parents had your little cousin babysit you because you were like too immature or whatever?”

I didn’t answer. 30 seconds ago I felt like the king of the world. Now I didn’t know how to feel.

“Are you afraid I’m going to shhhteal your lover?” Becky asked. “Because you should be.”

“Not really,” Angie said. “You’re like super pretty and your boobs are obviously huge and stuff, but Stephen likes tall, skinny blonde girls like me.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Becky said flatly. “I was talking to Stephen.” Becky locked her green eyes on me. “Stephen, are you afraid that I’m going to steal your girlfriend?” she asked.

I didn’t say anything, because my mouth was too dry to speak. Angie spoke up though. “I’m totally flattered and stuff, and obviously some girls are hot, but I’m like only into muscles.”

“Really?” Becky said, gripping the left side of her jacket with her right hand, and the right side with her left hand. “Muscles like these?”

Becky didn’t pull her track jacket off, she ripped it to shreds. Then she tore off her track pants like they were those warm up pants that basketball players use. But they totally weren’t. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Becky was standing there in high heels and pig tails, wearing blue tights that went down to her calves, even though they couldn’t stretch enough to cover her calves. Her blue long-sleeved top was strained too tight by her melons to cover her abs completely but it reached down to her belly button, and the sleeves gave up around her huge forearms. And there was a big red and yellow ‘S’ on her chest, but it was so stretched out of shape that I could only recognize it from my nightmare.

“Oh. My. God,” Angie said, taking a step toward Becky.

“Oh God no,” I pleaded, grabbing Angie’s hand.

“Oh hell yes,” Becky Finklestein said, whirling her upper body around like a windmill and breaking a rear double biceps pose.

It was just like my nightmare, only worse. As big as Becky was in my deepest subconscious fears, she was even bigger in real life. And she was prettier. And her tits were bigger. And instead of slowly ripping apart, her Superman outfit exploded off her body, popping apart at the seams as her muscles broke through at every point of weakness. I could feel Angie’s hand sweating. Becky held her double biceps pose for a second. “This is what thirty-two inch bicepshhh look like,” she said.

I told myself that wasn’t possible. Arnold’s arms weren’t even close to that big, and he was Mr. Olympia. And he was a six foot tall full grown man, not a half-pint teenaged girl. But then Becky squeezed down and winked, and I believed her. “And this is what a chest that can bench 1,500 pounds looks like,” she said, turning around, pointing her left leg, and clasping her hands together in one perfectly smooth, incredibly fast motion.

Becky’s little bitchy smirk spread across her lips as she cranked her pecs up into slabs of muscle the size of cinder blocks, but shaped with ridges and scalloped edges like clamshells. My brain just couldn’t process her mass. Every time she moved a body part, it looked bigger from the new perspective than it did before she moved. Her tiny feet shouldn’t be able to support all that mass. Her wrists, her ankles, and her neck shouldn’t be skinny like a normal girl’s if she had muscles that big. And her knockers shouldn’t be bigger than her head. How could she even walk?

“Oh! My! God!” Angie yelled, and ran toward the fifty-four-inch tall behemoth, who was now naked except for her shoes and the ribbons in her hair. I tried to hold on to Angie’s hand, but she was dripping with sweat and she slipped away.