Michelle Morris- A Star Is Born
By Bearhugged  bearhugcrush@hotmail.com 



The little girl with the abnormally pretty face wrapped her arms around the
lower abdominal region of the large man. "Daddy, please stop!" she said in
between tears as she squeezed the man as hard as she could. For the last 15
minutes, the little girl's father, in a drunken stupor, had pummeled on his
wife. No particular reason, but when fueled by alcohol, there isn't
necessarily a reason. The loud crashing and banging of the small woman being
smashed around by her much larger husband had woken the couple's seven-year
old daughter. Seeing the blood coming from her mother's bruised and scarred
face, her father's slurred words and uneasy walk let the girl, who had seen
this situation more than once before in her short life, know exactly what was
going on. She went to try to stop it the only way she could think of: by
begging.

Through her blackened eyes, the mother watched as her daughter squeezed her
alcholic husband and began crying, begging him not to hit her anymore. She
fully expected the large man to just flick her off like a bug. But, something
else was happening. The large man actually appeared to be in a bit of
discomfort. He grasped the girl's arms, and appeared to be pulling at them
with all his might, to try and release the grip she had on him. But her arms
didn't move a bit. Meanwhile, the girl, obviously oblivious to this, just
continued to scream "Daddy, don't! Please stop, Daddy!" as tears poured out of
her closed eyes. The look of discomfort on the man's face was turning into all
out pain. He began to scream, as the battered wife could now see that the
daughter's arms were getting slightly closer to her body as the little girl
squeezed tighter and tighter, the emotionally fueled power actually beginning
to crush the much larger man.

From all the way across the room, the woman could hear an unmistakable crack
as one of the man's ribs broke. Shortly later, another crack, followed by
another, and another. The girl, obviously didn't hear it, as she just
continued her hold, still yelling "Stop, Daddy! Please don't hit Mommy
anymore!" Now able to muster the strength to stand, she walked over to the
little girl. The man, who had long since blacked out, was still standing, held
up only by the little girl, eyes still closed, tears pouring out, squeezing
with all her strength.

"Michelle, let go," the woman said. The little girl's eyes opened, and at
seeing the sight of her mother, instantly turned her grip loose. The man fell
to the ground, crashing through a coffee table. The woman embraced her
daughter, and the little girl in her joy, wrapped her arms around her mother.
The mother felt the abnormal amount of pressure in the love-filled squeeze her
young daughter gave her.

It was at that moment that Jane Morris realized that Michelle, her sweet,
young Michelle, was not like most little seven-year old girls.

That night, Jane Morris packed up the car with some of her belongings, got the
secret stash of money that had slowly been put aside especially for this
night, and left the man that had beaten her senseless many, many times over
the last few years.

With her, in the passanger seat, was Michelle, her seven-year old daughter.
Holding her favorite teddy bear, Michelle just looked at the front of the
small blue house she had lived in all her life, as it disappeared. The small,
lower-class suburb in the passanger seat window gave way to the bustle of the
city, which soon gave way to the rural countryside.

The car stopped at a small farm, a few miles of a quaint small farming town.
This was where Jane Morris had grown up, and now it was where young Michelle
was to grow up.

At Jane sipped some coffee in the living room of the farmhouse, her mother
looked her over. Jane's nose had been repeatedly broken, and was anything but
straight. The remants of bruises, and the unmistakable scars of cuts covered
her from head to toe.

"Did that monster ever hit my granddaughter, Janey?" the older woman said.

"No. I think he was about to a couple of times, but then I walked in the room,
and took the beating for her." Jane said.

As the mother and grown-up daughter talked in the living room, things were
laid out. Jane would file for divorce immediately, and file for full custody.
By staying with her mother, who was actually became a millionaire after her
husband (Jane's father and Michelle's grandfather) was killed in an industrial
accident twenty-five years ago. The unemployed father, with the rap sheet from
all the times the police had to intercede in his boxing matches with his wife,
didn't stand a chance of ever seeing Michelle again.

One thing that Jane didn't tell her though, is what young Michelle had done
that final night. The way she had squeezed the large man with such mysertious
power that four ribs had snapped like pencils. The source of this, Jane Morris
realized, she must find out for herself.

Jane took this chance to start her life all over again. Returning to college,
she became a psychology major. Her prodigious and actually, very intelligent
mind took over. It took her a mere two years to earn her Bachelor's degree.
Just two years later, she had a Ph.D. Dr. Morris started a clinic in the small
town near the family farm. While she did spend a lot of time with patients,
she spent a larger amount of her time in the office trying to find some sort
of mental link that allowed people to have almost superhuman strength in times
of great crisis. After a year of searching, she had a theory. It could
actually work. She just needed a test subject. Her mind flashed back to that
night five years ago, when she had left her abusive husband. What her
seven-year daughter Michelle did to his midsection with that intense,
emotion-fueled squeezing.

That night, Jane knocked on the door to Michelle's room. "Honey, can I come
in?"

"Sure, Mom."

Jane opened the door. Michelle, now a bright, smiling twelve-year old,
abnormally tall for age- nearly 6 foot, was sitting on the bed, listening to
the radio.

"Michelle, can I ask you a question?"

"Okay."

"The night, when you were hugging your dad, what exactly was going through
your mind?"

Michelle just froze. Changing the direction she was looking from the
surgicially reconstructed face of her mother to the window, she spoke softly,
"I'm not really sure. I don't remember much from that night. All I can really
tell you is that I remember just hugging Daddy as tight as I could, and just
thinking nothing but that I wanted him to stop hitting you. Nothing else, just
to stop hitting you."

Jane smiled, hugged her daughter, gave her a quick kiss right at her hairline,
and said, "Thank you sweetie. That's all I wanted to know." She stood up and
began to walk out. That's when Michelle quickly said, "Oh Mom, something else
I just remembered about that night."

The mother whirled around, giving her full attention to her daughter.

"As we were driving away, I had this strange feeling."

"Strange feeling?"

"Yeah. That I had done something really good. Not just good feeling to me, but
good feeling to others besides me."

The young preteen flashed a bright smile at her mother. "That's all."

As Jane walked downstairs back to the living room, she thought, yes. Her
theory was proven correct. Now, time to see if the full effects could be
reached. Her daughter would have to be the test subject. Not because it would
be easy to track the progress, but because Jane Morris believed that nobody
else deserved her theorized effects more than her sweet, beautiful and loving
young daughter.

It was two years after that conversation in the bedroom. Jane stood out in the
barn. A large crate was there on the ground.

Michelle walked in. She defiantly did not look like a typical 14-year old high
school freshman. She was about 6'2", long legs, very sculpted arms, and lots
of curves. She was still in her sweaty tank top and shorts from basketball
practice. "You wanted to see me after practice, Mom?"

"Yes, dear. Could you help me move this crate over by the stalls? It's really
important."

Mother and daughter bent over to grasp the crate. Try as they might, the crate
didn't budge.

"This thing is too heavy, Mom!"

"Okay, Michelle. Let's try something. I don't want to think 'I want to lift
this crate'. I want you to think 'I will lift this crate.' Don't let anything
stop you from doing it. Just think 'I will lift this crate.' Come on, let's
try this again."

Once again, the two woman team made an attempt to lift the crate. Slowly but
surely, the crate came off the ground. The two made their way over toward the
horse stables, where the crate then slowly came down.

"Geez, Mom! What the heck was in this crate?"

Jane used a crowbar to remove the crate top. Inside were large 50-pound bags
of concrete. There were a dozen of those bags in there, a total weight of over
600 pounds.

"Mom, what did you have me help you move that? Why didn't you just take the
bags out of the cr."

"I didn't help you, Michelle."

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn't touching the crate that second time. You lifted it, and moved it all
on your own."

"There's no way! That's over 600 pounds! There's no way I can lift that!"

"Well, you did. Now I know my theory is true."

"What theory is this?"

"Michelle, do you remember what you did to your father that last night at
home?"

Jane Morris then proceeded to tell her daughter what she had never known.
That, in her desperation to prevent her father from killing her, she had
squeezed him with so much power that she broke four of his ribs.

Michelle's eyes grew wide. "No way! How I could have broken his ribs? He was
huge! I was only seven years old!"

"Fact of the matter is, you did. You did it and you didn't even know it. My
theory, Michelle, is this: In times of desperate need, when people decided to
take a matter into their own hands, and think they won't let anything,
anywhere stop them, they can become powerful. Super powerful. I think that,
with proper training, a person can have this full-time. I want to try it with
you. Would you be willing, Michelle?"

Michelle thought slowly. Flashbacks went through her mind. Back to that night.
The feeling through her whole body, that she had done something great. She had
craved that feeling again ever since. And, when she was lifting that crate,
she had gotten it again.

It didn't take too long for the young, tall blonde to make her decision. "Yes,
Mom, I'm willing. Let's go for it."

Getting a basketball scholarship no longer was Michelle Morris' primary
thought. It was finding a way to make this unleashing of power full-time.

Under the watchful eye of her mom, Michelle would lift weights, along with
intesnse mind- probing exercises with her psychologist mother. She was getting
stronger, but not at an abnormally rapid rate.

Six months went by, then a year. Then two years. Halfway through Michelle'
senior year, Jane Morris decided to call it an unsuccessful experiment.
Michelle had only gained 10 pounds of muscle mass, nothing abnormal for a
couple years of intense training.

"It's over, Michelle."

"Mom, no."

"It just didn't work, honey. Nothing wrong with that. It was just a theory
that proved not to be true. Theories are proven false every day. There's
nothing bad that came out of this."

Michelle ran up to her room crying. She had wanted it to happen. Ever since
the first time she had watched her father smash her mother's face in, she had
wanted supreme strength. The power to stop that from happening to anybody,
again.

Her face read and hot, tears pouring down her eyes, she cried out inside her
head, "I want this to happen. I want the strength. I want the power. GIVE IT
TO ME!"

She cried herself to sleep.

Michelle woke up the next day to feel her entire body in a world of soreness.

Man, she thought to herself, what the heck is going on. I feel like I got hit
by a truck!

She was still wearing the same clothes she had the day before, when she had
closed herself in her room in a fit of rage and sadness. Although, something
was different.the clothes felt different.they were incredibly tight.
Yesterday, they hung loosely off her body. Also, the room had changed.
Everything looked lower. Not much lower, but lower. Then, she looked in the
mirror.

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!"

This couldn't be her reflection! I mean, the face looked the same, but the
body sure didn't. It was covered with muscle. Pure muscle. Not the toned look
that she had the day before, but rock-solid muscle with cuts and veins.

Jane Morris came bursting in through the room. She hit the brakes immediately
in the doorway.

"Michelle, what on earth happened?"

"I don't know!"

Suddenly, the look of shock came off of Jane's face. She had a small smile,
and said, "Michelle, let's take a little trip to the weight room."

Once there, Jane had Michelle step on the scale. It balanced out at 180
pounds.

"Yesterday you weight was 168."

Jane measured Michelle's height. It was 75 inches, or 6'3".

"That's an inch taller than yesterday."

"Mom, how could I grow an inch taller and gain twelve pounds overnight?"

"Not just twelve pounds, Michelle." Her grandmother appeared in the hallway,
"But it looks like twelve pounds of muscle."

"Huh?."

"Get on the bench."

Michelle sat on the bench press machine. Jane packed on 215 pounds of weight.
The day before, Michelle could barely get one rep at this weight.

"Give it a shot."

Michelle took the weight off the bar. She brought it down to her chest, then
pressed it back up with ease. Down and up again. She repeated this another ten
times before she began to slow down.

"Let me try to max out, Mom"

Jane did, and then 17-year old maxed out at 280 pounds.

"Well, let's see. In one night you grew inch, and added 12 pounds of muscle
which let you instantly add another 65 pounds to your bench press. I only have
one question, honey."

"What's that, Mom?"

"What were you thinking about?"

It turns out the power theory of Dr. Jane Morris wasn't so off after all.

Every night, before Michelle went to bed, Jane asked her daughter to try and
think her dream with the same desperation that she did that night. Every
night, Michelle did, and every night, there was results. Some nights, there
were more results than others, but there were results. A month after
Michelle's 18th birthday, five months after the first night "it" happened, the
massive growth stopped.

But what a massive growth it was.

Five months ago, young Michelle Morris had been a 6 feet, 2 inches tall, and
168 pounds. Her biceps were 13 inches, chest 36 inches, waist 26 inches,
thighs 16 inches, and calves 12 inches.

That was five months ago. Now, young Michelle Morris was 6 feet, 9 inches
tall, and 307 pounds. Her biceps are 26 inches, chest 58 inches, waist 26
inches, thighs 35 inches, and calves 24 inches. The muscles themselves were
unbelievable. Every one was like solid steel. Hard, and unbelievably strong.
When she moved, you could almost feel pure power surging through her veins
instead of blood. There was not one inch of her body that wasn't massive,
solid, and powerful.

One summer morning, as Michelle did her light bench press warmup of 25 reps at
1000 pounds, her mother came in. "Michelle, Tori's here. I think you should
talk to her."

Michelle put the weight back onto the bar. Tori had been her best friend ever
since she had moved to the country. But the Tori in the living room was not
the Tori Michelle knew.

The normal Tori was a small, energetic girl with a bright, smiling, flawless
face. This Tori in the living room was a small, bleak girl with a face covered
with bruises and dried blood.

Michelle gasped when she saw her friend. "Tori, what happened?" the large girl
screamed as Dr. Morris came in with moistened towels and bandages.

"It was.Steve."

Steve had been Tori's boyfriend since freshman year. He had always had a hot
temper, and when he went into the woods to toss back a few with his football
buddies, he emerged with an even worse temper.

"What did he do, Tori?"

"I don't even remember most of it. He had a lot to drink.a lot.I was out
around town with some of the other girls, when he just came up and snatched me
into his truck. He drove to that old abandoned warehouse on the northside of
the town and did.and did."

"Did what, Tori?"

She burst into a total output of tears. "THIS!" She screamed. After that, all
she could do was cry as Dr. Morris treated her bruised and bloody body as best
as she could.

Michelle went up into her room, absolutely furious. How could Steve, no, how
could anybody, do something like that to someone as sweet as Tori? He could
probably get away with it, too. As she paced about her room. She caught a
glimpse of herself. Her muscles were all pumped. Funny, she thought, I never
had that happen unless I was working out. She flexed, pouring all of the anger
she felt towards that jerk Steve into each flex.
RRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!! The t-shirt she was wearing ripped apart,
leaving her naked above her waist. She had never seen herself look this huge
before. It was the anger.

Putting on a new shirt, Michelle walked back downstairs to where Tori was
laying on the couch, about to fall asleep. "Tori," Michelle said, kneeling
down next to the much smaller girl. "I've got a plan."

That night, Tori stood by the old abandoned warehouse on the north side of the
small town. Her tight short dress showed off a pair of shapely thighs, which
made their way down to a set of perfectly round calves. The top of her dress
was equally revealing, exposing large quantities of her ample cleavage. A
truck drove up. Out came Steve, Tori's long-time and abusive boyfriend.

"What do you want, slut?" Steve had always had a good way with words. He
wasn't small by any means. A star linebacker on the high school football team,
and he had the muscles to back up anything his mouth said.

Tori slowly and seductively walked up to him, her makeup doing a good job of
covering up the brusies he had left on her the night before at this place. She
wrapped one of her arms around his neck, pulled his lips to hers, and
proceeded to shove her toungue as far as she could down his throat. He
instinctively brought his hands to her body, sliding all around, eventually
stopping at her small, but firm, butt. He started squeezing her pantyless butt
cheeks, and lifted her all the way off the ground.

She broke the lip lock and said in a low, seductive voice, "At first, I didn't
like last night, but I came to realize that it could actually be fun. I want
to do it again."

Steve looked at her. "You serious?"

Tori pulled a single dress strap off her shoulder and wrapped her legs around
Steve's waist, pressing her large breasts against Steve's body. "Oh yeah,
baby. Let's go!"

Steve opened the unlocked warehouse door and stepped inside. As soon as he
did, though, he felt a powerful hand grip his throat. The hand started
squeezing, cutting off his air.

"Hey.cough.what's going on, Tori?"

Tori got off Steve, went over to the door, and locked it.

"Payback, Steve. I hated last night. I never want to do it again. In fact, I
want to make sure you never do that to anyone else again. And I've got a
little bit of help to do it."

All of a sudden, Steve felt himself being lifted off the ground and thrown
through the air. After being airborne for a couple of seconds, he came
crashing to the ground. Looking at where the door was, he guessed he had been
thrown about 20 feet through the air.

A massive figure stepped out of the shadows. With the little bit of light in
the warehouse, Steve saw who it was: Michelle Morris, that girl that used to
be on the basketball team, but quit and suddenly got big huge muscles. And my
God, was she huge! Even Steve's massive, powerful body looked puny compared to
Michelle. She dwarfed in height, weight, and hardness. Her body was massive,
solid muscle, and purely powerful.

"That help is me, you pathetic little worm." Michelle sneered at the teenage
boy still on the ground. She began to flex her muscles, making herself look
bigger.and bigger.and bigger. "So, you get off on hurting girls smaller than
you?" Michelle began to alternating flexing one of her pecs, which stood
underneath decent-sized, which began to straing more and more against the
sports bra she was wearing. "Well, you weak, scrawny jackass, what are you
going to do now? Hurt me?" She began to pump up her legs, most of which were
shown off by the short shorts she was wearing. She began laughing. "I don't
think you stand a chance of hurting me."

Steve didn't take being insulted about beingsmall too lightly. He spent a lot
of time building up his muscles. He quickly stood up, bringing his right hand
into a fist. "Try this on for size, you freak!" He launched his hand toward
her stomach. Michelle didn't finch. She didn't even flex her abs to absorb the
impact of Steve's punch. The hand met muscle in a loud crack. A cry echoed out
into the vast, empty warehouse. But the cry came from Steve, not Michelle. Her
stomach, unflexed, completely absorbed the impact from Steve's punch, leaving
his hand broken in several places.

"Awww, poor baby." Michelle cooed in a flirtatious voice, mocking sympathy.
"It looks like you hurt your little hand. Here, let's see if I can take away
some of the pain. She grabbed his remaining good hand, in her hand, completely
engulfing it. She gave a quick jolt of pressure, hardly near what she could
muster. Steve screamed in agony.

"See? Michelle said. "I crush (squeeze, scream) this hand (squeeze, scream)
and you ignore the pain (squeeze, scream) in the other hand (squeeze scream).
You know why I'm going to break your hands, you maggot?" Michelle kept the
squeeze maintained now, slowly making it tighter by the seconds. "You hurt my
friend with those hands. She didn't do anything to deserve it, she just didn't
want to move that fast." The first bone in the hand cracked. "But, you
couldn't accept that, could you?" Another bone cracked. "You just had to have
things your way, and you hurt her in the process. You might have even killed
her. And that pisses me off. " Another bone. "It pisses.me.off.a.lot!" She
closed the fist, crunching Steve's hand in the process. She let go, and Steve
dropped to the ground, in a fetal position, attempting to reduce the pain in
his aching hands. Meanwhile, Tori stood by, watching all this, mouth agape.
She knew her friend was strong, as part of that mental experiment, but even
she had no idea she would be this strong, to destroy that hands that had
nearly killed her last night with no effort.

"For crying out loud, Steve, you're so pathetic." Michelle continued her
mocking. "Look at you. All tough. All those years you thought you were
becoming so strong. All for nothing. You're down. You're defeated already. And
I've only used one of my arms." She flexed her massive bicep. "And I've just
started. You're going to remember this night for the rest of your life.
Because every time you move from this night on, you're going to feel pain that
started here on this night. That I promise you." She grabbed him roughly
around the neck with one hand, and lifted him off the ground. He was on his
feet, then his feet left the ground, until his eyes were even with the taller
Michelle's. She carried him like this, at arm's length, his 225 pounds looking
like it wasn't even straining her. They came close to a wall in the warehouse.
Michelle curled her arm inwards, bringing their faces close to each other. The
superhuman teenage girl blew the boy in the grasp of her single hand a kiss,
then snapped her arm to a fully extended position, ramming the boy into the
wall.

Steve grimaced at the impact, his entire body feeling jolt of pure shock, as
his insides rattled at the force and speed of the blow from the wall. She
brought her arm back to flexed, then extended it again, ramming his body into
the wall again. Over and over she did this, showing no signs of tiring. As if
Steve's massive weight was nothing to her single arm. Of course, as only
Michelle seemed to know, it wasn't. Meanwhile, Steve could feel his internal
organs crying out in pain from the repeated ramming into the wall. After a
dozen or so rammings, she extended her arm vertically, leaving Steve's feet
dangling about two feet off the ground. She began to increase the pressure in
her grip around his throat. All he could manage was little gagging sounds.

"God, you've got to be hurting so bad right now." Michelle taunted, looking up
to see the grimacing look of pain in his face, enjoying it. "And all from this
little arm of mine. I haven't even used my legs on you. Of course, if I did, I
could probably kill you in a matter of seconds. They're soooo strong, Steve. I
haven't been able to discover their full strength, there's no weight machine
that can support enough weight for me to max out on. Of course, I don't need
to use them. It looks my upper body is more than enough to kill you, you soft
weak little wimp." She let loose her grip, and the boy came crashing down to
Earth, a barely conscious heap on the cold concrete floor.

"But, I'm not going to kill you. As far as I'm concerned, that's getting off
too easy. You're going to feel pain for so long." She put him in a full
nelson, effortlessly hoisting him to his feet, not that he could stand on his
own anymore anyways. Michelle turned them to where they were facing Tori.
"Look at her, Steve," Michelle whispered in his ear. "She's gorgeous, isn't
she? Do you have any idea how many boys in school would have loved to been in
your position? To have a girl like Tori not only going out with them, but
truly loving them? She loved you, Steve, but you went and screwed that all up.
So now not only are you never going to do that again to her, you're never
going to do that to anyone else. And that." She hoisted him up in the air,
increasing the pressure of the hold. ".is what." The pressure increased,
threatening to tear his arms off completely ".I'm here for!" She stood up on
her tiptoes, extended her arms as high as she could, then released the hold
and slammed Steve into the floor as hard as she could. He literally bounced
off the floor and just laid there, still barely aware of his surroundings.

This is all she had planned for him. But, as she got ready to walk away, she
felt an urge to not end it. That there was still one more thing left to do.
She looked down at her body, massive as it was. With every beat of her heart,
she could almost feel her body getting stronger. The urge becoming stronger.

Better take care of that.

Michelle scooped up Steve in her arms, His feet left the ground once again,
their eyes even. She could hear him whimpering, begging for some sort of
mercy. "Shh, now, little boy," Michelle almost sounded like a mother consoling
a kindergartner, "It's almost over, I promise." She began to slowly tighten
her grip, into a powerful bearhug. It didn't take long, and only a fraction of
her full strength, before she felt his ribs beginning to tense, near their
breaking point. His breathing was labored, as it was near impossible for him
to breath. Accidentally, her pecs tensed, expanding in size. Steve's breathing
then became even more difficult. Michelle noticed this, and began to alternate
increases in pressure. First arms, then pecs. Arms, pecs, arms, pecs.

One rib broke. Then another and another and another. Michelle felt a feeling
throughout her whole being. A feeling that she hadn't felt since that night
when she was seven, and the feeling she never revealed to anybody for five
years after that. A feeling of good. She was ridding the world of an abusive
rapist. After this night, Steve would be too afraid to ever try anything like
he had done to Tori again, because with every breath he took, he would feel
pain associated from the beating that Michelle's massive, powerful physique
had administered to him. One last jolt of power from her gigantic arms broke
the last two of Steve's ribs, and she let him drop, this time for good. She
walked to the door, which Tori had bolted shut at the beginning of the night's
ceremonies. Not even bothering to unlock it, she gripped it, and with a grunt,
tore it open, ripping the super reinforced deadbolt to pieces. She looked to
her much smaller friend, who was frozen in awe, staring at the beaten,
bloodied, and bruised body of her ex-boyfriend laying on the floor. "Shall we
get going, and anonymously call him an ambulance?" Michelle said, breaking the
silence, Tori turned to her, flashed a million-dollar smile across her face,
and walked out the door, leaving a curvacious silhouette against the moonbeams
shining on the opposite wall of the warehouse. That was enveloped by the
gigantic, muscular silhouette of Michelle, as she walked out the door.

And, with that, a star is born.