Tara
By TDB, writing_hard@yahoo.co.uk
Tara is amazed at the benefits of a summer's hard work...


I'd spent the summer on my aunt and uncle's farm in the country; which
basically amounted to ten whole weeks of leisure spent with my three cousins.
I had to work as well of course, but by lunchtime our various tasks around the
farm were done and we were left to our own devices for the rest of the day.
The twins, Mike and Rob, were eleven years old and their elder brother Joel
was thirteen. Aged just ten, I was the youngest and, had I not been such a
tomboy, I can't imagine that I would have enjoyed my holiday much. The jobs we
were given were typically dirty, smelly and physical; and then my cousins'
idea of fun was pretty exhausting as well - long bike-rides, hikes, swimming
and climbing trees. Needless to say, come bedtime it was all I could manage to
collapse into bed.

But now summer was drawing to a close and I was back home with my parents and
brother. Actually, my brother Danny wasn't here quite yet - he too had spent
the summer away from home, at camp. My parents had told me that he'd be back
too late for me to stay up and greet him, so I'd have to wait until tomorrow
morning. It felt nice to be back in my bed, in my room, in my house after such
a long time away, and I snuggled under the covers and swiftly fell asleep.

"Tara! Tara! Wake up!" I moaned and begrudgingly opened my eyes, blinking
rapidly in the bright morning sunlight that was flooding the room. Sitting on
the side of my bed, wearing only his boxers, was my brother. Danny grinned,
"C'mon sleepyhead, aren't you gonna say ‘hello' to your big brother?" Suddenly
remembering, I sat up and hugged Danny, enveloping us both in my duvet. "How
are you?" I cried excitedly. "Great, thanks!" came the slightly self-satisfied
reply. I stopped for a second - ‘what was he looking so pleased about? And why
wasn't he wearing his robe? He was usually so self-conscious about his
body...' Danny must have noticed my puzzled stare because he said "Admiring my
new body, huh? Impressive, no?" and flexed his right arm - a barely-noticeable
lump appeared. "I've been working out!" I first stared at this puny display
and then dissolved into giggles. Danny looked rather hurt, but I had only
dented his new-found confidence. "You're just jealous." he said, smugly. "Ha!
Jealous!" I laughed. "Yeah!" came the reply, "I've been doing press-ups every
morning for the whole summer!" I was still giggling and by now I think Danny
was getting a little annoyed. "Fine!" he said, "Let's have a press-up
competition right now! Then you'll see why the female of the species is
referred to as the weaker sex!"

Humouring him, I hopped out of bed and got into position next to him on the
bedroom floor. "Ready?" "Ready!" I nodded. "Go!" he shouted, and we were off,
each keeping pace with the other and each counting aloud.
"One...two...three...four...five..." I'd never really attempted to see how
many press-ups I could do before now, but I was finding this easy.
"Ten...eleven...twelve...thirteen...fourteen..." Danny's breathing was
becoming laboured but I, on the other hand, felt great. A pleasant warm
feeling was developing in my arms and chest; a feeling I was enjoying.
"Twenty...twenty-one...twenty-two...twenty-threeeough!" Panting, Danny
collapsed to the floor and could only stare in amazement as I continued, still
finding that this was easy going. Knowing that I had already outlasted my
13-year old brother excited me greatly and only served to spur me on. Danny
lay still, gasping on the floor, but his eyes remained fixed on me as I
powered on. Thirty became forty, became fifty - I felt amazing, relishing the
warm glow that seemed to pulse inside me. ‘I was stronger than my big brother!
Waaay stronger! And I was only a 10-year old girl!' My adrenalin was still
pumping furiously as I reached my fifty-fourth press-up and I still felt fresh
but, unable to abstain from gloating any longer, I squeezed out a final,
fifty-fifth press-up, and got up to stand over my beaten brother, grinning
from ear to ear.

Shakily, he began to stand up, and placed his hand on my right leg for
support. As he touched me I saw his eyes widen and he hissed "Jesussss!" Now
he grabbed my leg with his other hand as well, and began to squeeze my calf -
if possible, his eyes seemed to grow even larger, and his jaw dropped. "What
is it?" I asked, suddenly concerned. "Your...your...leg! It's so hard!" he
whispered. Puzzled, I bent down and pulled my long nightdress up to my knees.
Danny's hands fell to the floor, and a barely-audible "Wow!" escaped his lips.
For a second, I was worried, "What are these lumps?" I asked, shifting my
weight slightly, and then grew even more alarmed as the lumps bulged
momentarily. I bent down and slid my hands over my calves; Danny was right -
they were hard. Realisation dawned. "But...but I can't have muscles - I'm only
a 10-year old girl..." I stammered. "Trust me, sis - those are muscles." Danny
murmured in wonderment.

I rose onto tiptoes, and the bulges grew, jutting out slightly from my leg. I
looked at Danny; Danny, pale-faced, looked at me. "And...and your thighs?" he
breathed. I raised my nightdress higher; as high as decency would allow. As my
hands ran up my smooth skin, I was startled to notice for the first time how
hard my thighs were and, after inspection, how big they were. But they weren't
bulky; rather, they were lithe and sleek - I guess my body had benefited from
those ten weeks spent in the country, biking up hills. Danny was on his feet
now, and stood right next to me, on tiptoes also - 5‘ 8" tall, he towered over
my 5‘ frame. But where I had shapely young girl-muscles, his legs were skinny
and underdeveloped, resembling nothing so much as two strands of spaghetti. I
began to bounce up and down on my toes and smiled as I watched my muscles
contract and expand - not so much ripple, as I had only just begun to realise
their potential. Danny attempted the same, but he couldn't match the swell of
power in my young legs.

Only then did I remember the press-up contest and the warm glow in my arms.
Head swimming, I pulled up my nightdress' sleeves with fumbling fingers and,
remembering my brothers earlier (admittedly pathetic) example, struck a
double-biceps pose for the first (but not the last) time in my life. I didn't
have to look to know the result was impressive - Danny's loud gulp told me
that much - but, holding the pose, I moved across to my mirror to see for
myself. Where my big brother had what looked like a knot in a piece of string,
I had a round bulge on both arms, each of which was the size and shape of a
tennis ball; they may not have peaked massively, but my biceps did look and
feel substantial - even more so considering that I was just a 10-year old
girl. I continued to flex my right arm and brought my left hand across to
squeeze my newly discovered bicep. I couldn't get my hand all the way around
it, and as I tightened my grip I was even more excited to find that, hard as I
tried, I could only put a tiny dent in it.

Once again flexing both arms, I turned to my brother and gave him a superior
look. "So," I drawled, "guess I'm not the weaker sex after all!" I think Danny
was beginning to regret that fact that he had chosen to wear only boxer
shorts; it only served to highlight his physical inferiority when compared to
me, his baby sister. Noticing me staring mockingly at his puny form, Danny
self-consciously crossed his arms, but this did little to conceal his
toast-rack ribs and weak chest. Keen to further investigate my newfound
girl-muscles, I began to slip my nightdress off my shoulders. Only I couldn't;
the material wouldn't stretch over my ample frame. All I had to do to sort
that out though was shrug - in a competition between my young muscles and the
material, there was only ever going to be one winner. The tears that appeared
allowed me to ease the nightdress off my shoulders and down my arms, until I
had exposed my chest down to just above my nipples. At just 10-years old I had
yet to begin to develop breasts, but as both I and Danny stared at my chest it
was obvious how fleshy it looked, "Do I have cleavage?" I gasped. I tensed
myself and was excited to see my chest begin to bulge - two distinct, plump
slabs of muscle began to inflate. I squealed with pleasure and ran my hand
across my chest, revelling in its firmness and solidity.

Eager to discover what other treats were in store, but unwilling to strip
naked before my ogling brother, I had to content myself with running my hand
down my torso over the outside of my nightdress; and as I did so, feeling my
brother's with my other hand. Where I could feel his each individual rib, mine
were encased under muscle; his stomach was small but soft, mine flat and hard.
I grabbed Danny's hand, "Feel this!" I said, and placed his open hand on my
stomach. He began to trace his fingers downwards, letting them play over the
slight ridges of my six-pack. "You have...abs?" he stuttered, before pressing
harder, but my stomach might as well have been a sheet of metal for the impact
he made. "Sis, they're really strong ones too!" I just grinned.

"I've got an idea, Danny!" I announced suddenly, "I'll try and do some more
press-ups, but this time with you lying on my back! Sound good?" Danny nodded
wordlessly. I lay flat on the floor and Danny set himself down on top of me.
Him being eight inches taller, it was a slightly awkward arrangement, but it
would work - my powerful young body would see to that. I could feel him trying
to get comfortable over my firm young behind - my rock-solid buttocks didn't
give an inch, and he was no doubt thankful that my back and shoulders were
broad, or he could have easily toppled off. "Ready, Danny?" I asked. My
humbled big brother could only grunt his assent. "Go!" I shouted, and I did.

"Five...ten...fifteen...twenty" I counted again as I flew through the reps. It
felt good to test my muscles; to see what they were capable of. The
now-familiar warm glow was apparent again, and I moaned happily as it coursed
through my upper body. I felt amazing and I never wanted this feeling to go
away; this feeling of being so powerful, and believing that I could do
anything. I eased to a stop after my twenty-fifth press-up, and Danny slowly
rolled off my back. He was looking at me strangely - like he was in awe of me.
His look of wonder only made me want to show off my strength even more. Once
again I hit a double-biceps pose. Danny choked, and his eyes goggled, "Your
biceps...they're...bigger!" Breathing fast, I turned to the mirror and saw for
myself that my biceps had indeed grown; they looked fuller and rounder.
Instinctively I began to pump my arms, and watched, amazed, as a puffy vein
appeared down each arm. I glanced at my legs, but they remained the same size.
It didn't take long to realise what I had to do...

Without a word of explanation, I bent down and grabbed hold of Danny. "Whoa!
What are you doing?" cried my utterly helpless big brother. In one easy, fluid
movement I swung him over my shoulders. Even I was taken aback by the ease
with which I had lifted him, so Danny's effeminate scream of terror can be
excused. Positioning my feet about shoulder-width apart, I began to lower my
behind to the floor, stopping only when my thighs were parallel to the ground.
Then, with a burst of power, I straightened up again. After a few reps, my
legs began to glow warmly too. "Hang in there, big brother!" I grunted as I
pushed myself up, "Nearly done!" Now I brought my feet together and, with
Danny still over my shoulders, rose up and down repeatedly on my toes; after a
while it felt like my calves were on fire. Finally satisfied, I lowered Danny
gently to the floor, pulled up my nightdress again and examined my legs. I
rose up onto my toes and looked in the mirror as my calves bulged, "Like two
diamonds..." I breathed. "Those are your quads..." Danny informed me as he saw
me massaging my solid thighs. "They feel so powerful...I feel so powerful!" I
giggled, and then squealed excitedly, "If this is what being strong and
muscular feels like, then I want more! More and more and more!" I turned to
Danny, "Do Mum and Dad still have those weights in the shed at the end of the
garden?" "I think so." he said, "But you'll have to get dressed if you want to
go outside." This was undeniably true; I couldn't go running around the garden
in just my nightie without getting into trouble. "Okay, I'll just get
changed." I said, looking at Danny; he seemed reluctant to leave. "You. Turn
around." I ordered my big brother. Obediently, he did as he was commanded.

I opened my wardrobe, only just remembering that this was my first opportunity
to wear something other than the clothes I had taken away on holiday with me -
they had been baggy and torn when I left, so you can imagine what state they
were in after ten weeks on a farm! I slipped the nightdress off over my head
with a call of "No peeking!" to Danny, and then had a good peek myself in the
mirror at my magnificent form. I suspect that my physique simply couldn't
compare with that of anyone who worked out regularly but, bearing in mind that
I had never touched a dumbbell in my life, and that I was only a 10-year old
girl, my body was, quite simply, amazing. Plus; I was even stronger than I
looked - and I looked pretty damn STRONG! I pulled the hair band off my pony
tail and shook my dark hair loose until it fell onto my shoulders. Then, I
stood on tiptoe, feet wide apart, fists resting on hips and flexed every
muscle in my body. I admired myself...my young body certainly deserved that
much...I looked a bit like a 5' superhero. "I'm MuscleGirl!" I giggled softly.
Without a doubt my best feature was my chest; in fact, my pectorals slightly
overpowered the rest of my body. I could recall only a few people of my age
who looked as muscular as me, and they were all Olympic gymnasts that I had
seen on the TV. No ordinary girl - or boy - of my age could beat my physique
and I reckoned that I could outmuscle most older teenage girls with ease.
However, most boys that had reached puberty could probably match my muscle
size right now, with a few exceptions (my weakling brother included). However,
I had seen young men in their late teens and early twenties with chests that
simply couldn't measure up to mine. The meatiness of my pecs combined with my
muscle-cleavage would have given the casual observer the impression that I had
quite bountiful breasts, and I took great pleasure in imagining how
spectacular I would look once I did start to bud. My mother was well-endowed -
playing dressing-up in her cupboard once, I had read the label on one of her
bras: 36E, and I knew this was big. It seemed likely then, that I would be as
blessed as her one day. I imagined myself as an 18-year old - with bulging
muscles rippling, and the kind of spectacular breasts that would make a
Playboy centrefold green with envy - and shivered with excitement.

Eventually, I slipped into some clothes - white pants and socks, an old tennis
skirt and a T-shirt that had a hard time staying in one piece; it was
stretched so tight over my chest that my nipples were evident, but I didn't
care. "Coming, Danny?" I asked. "Oh yes!" he exclaimed, "Just let me get some
clothes on." He made to get up but I stopped him with an "Allow me, sir." I
giggled, once again lifting him from the ground and onto my shoulders. "Oh,
Tara! I can't believe my little sister's so strong!"

TO BE CONTINUED...