Sally
By TDB, writing_hard@yahoo.co.uk
Sally is asked to help out in a human anatomy lesson...


Sally's face was flushed red and dripping with sweat as she gritted her teeth,
inhaled deeply, and prepared to squeeze out one, final, rep. The basement was
gloomy, and the large metal plates at either end of the barbell a matt black,
making it difficult to read the numbers embossed on their surface. Had you
asked the young girl however, she would have proudly announced that the four
large discs each read '25lb'. In other words, the teenager was curling one
hundred pounds in total and, what's more, this was to be her twelfth rep.

Her muscles already felt like they were on fire, but Sally had been pumping
iron for two years now, ever since she turned eleven, and she had learned to
love the burn. As far as she was concerned, there was no greater feeling than
the flood of exhausted ecstasy that coursed through her young body after she
had worked her muscles to failure; that was why she had been ensconced in the
basement gym for the past three hours, pushing herself to her physical limits.

A grunt turned into something more like a roar as Sally began to heave up the
bar. Her biceps quivered, and then began to swell as her elbows approached
ninety degree angles. Slowly but surely, Sally inexorably eased the weight
ever higher until the rigid metal bar pressed against her equally rigid
pectorals; her biceps were balled up so tightly they looked ready to rupture.
Each bicep was 15 inches around when cold; now, fully pumped, they were surely
edging 16 inches. It was Sally's dream to develop 18 inch biceps before she
found herself cutting slices of her eighteenth birthday cake, and her
determination had so far paid great dividends.

Now, Sally held the weight where it was for a moment, and glanced down at her
tumescent biceps. Their prodigiousness brought a smile to her face, as well
they might - they were, after all, the kind of muscles that very few were
blessed with. Only just thirteen, Sally had a body that you would not expect
to see belonging to any teenage girl; enviable genetics, wholly supportive
parents, and a real passion on her part for lifting weights made her entirely
unique.

Sally's mother had been a gymnast, competing in the Olympics for China, and
winning a silver medal; her father was from Hong Kong, once a soldier, now a
diplomat. He had been posted to the US just weeks after their marriage, and
his wife gave birth to Sally hardly one year later. They were both immensely
proud of their daughter, to whom they gave every encouragement. When Sally had
expressed an interest in bodybuilding they had purchased all the equipment she
would ever need, and sought expert guidance so she might progress safely. The
young girl had even followed in her mother's footsteps and was a skilled
gymnast, not to mention an accomplished ballerina, and all this in addition to
her tough workout schedule. It was this kind of work ethic that had made Sally
the girl she was today...

Still maintaining perfect form, the young girl lowered the bar as slowly as
she could, her arms trembling. At the bottom of the rep, Sally gave a
satisfied nod and stood still for a moment, breathing deeply, savouring her
achievement. Eventually, she deposited the weights on the floor and went to
brush a stray lock of raven-black hair off her forehead. As her fingers
flitted before her eyes, she couldn't help but notice the awesome swell of
power in her forearm, and she held the position, rotating her wrist, watching
the ripples beneath her smooth skin. Sweat still ran down her face and so
Sally reached down and pulled up the front of her T-shirt to mop her brow. She
couldn't resist taking a peek at her stomach as she did so: her abdomen was
encased in rock-solid muscle, thick and deeply-cut. When Sally squeezed into
her gymnastics leotard, her midsection received no end of astonished and
admiring glances from both opponents and team mates alike. It had been sit-ups
that had first alerted Sally to the changes in her body that exercise could
catalyse; she had noticed how, after doing dozens of sit-ups in gymnastics
practice, her little pot-belly had become flatter and harder. Then she started
doing crunches holding a weight plate behind her head - a weight plate that
grew heavier by the week - until noticeable bumps and grooves began to appear;
now, those bumps and grooves were brick-like abdominal muscles.

After dismantling the weights and tidying everything neatly away, Sally
started to pull out the T-shirt sleeves that she had rolled up and tucked away
inside her garment to ensure that her movement hadn't been restricted as she
had worked out. This proved to be less than easy - her already meaty arms had
become remarkably pumped during her gruelling exertions. The sleeves had been
a tight fit around her 15 inch biceps, but now, as snaking veins pulsed blood
into her arms, her girl-muscles were surely bigger than ever before, so much
so that Sally couldn't even begin to roll the sleeves back down. Excitedly,
Sally hurried across the room for the measuring tape, adjusted it around her
arm, and pumped her bicep several times before hitting a full-on flex. Any
slack in the tape quickly disappeared as a solid peak mushroomed, and the
figures grew ever greater until they stopped at 16 1/2 inches! Sally screamed
in elation - never before had her biceps burgeoned beyond exactly 16 inches -
and began to pump her arms before the mirror, admiring their astounding volume
and vascularity.

High on adrenaline, the young girl dropped to the floor and easily powered
through twenty five one-hand push-ups with each arm. As she stood back up, she
couldn't help but appreciate her legs too: 26 inch thighs pulsated with
shapely, awe-inspiring muscles, and 17 inch calves jutted out, sharp to touch.
This was why, when she danced in ballet productions, she could never wear
tights - they weren't designed to contain such Amazonian dimensions. Similarly
- though nothing could be done about this - Sally's powerful rear refused to
remain covered by her tutu; her two glutes were such prominent, unyielding,
smoothly-rounded muscular globes that little could be done to conceal them.
All Sally could do was wear some especially resilient underwear and hope that,
as she pirouetted across the stage, her modesty would remain preserved.

In keeping with her Chinese heritage, Sally was short, only 5' 1", although
that was already as tall as her petite mother. Her father was unusually tall
at 5' 10", so Sally hoped she still might shoot up one day. For the moment
though, Sally's lack of height served to emphasise the enormity of her
youthful physique. As her flaring lats and powerful, broad shoulders stretched
her T-shirt, Sally made an imposing figure indeed; her muscular size and
strength unsurpassed in anyone else so young. At school, even though her
classmates knew Sally to be a quiet and kind-hearted girl, they could not help
but sometimes feel intimidated by her presence. In part this was due to her
school uniform which, like most items of clothing, had not been created with
teenage muscle goddesses in mind: the white ankle-socks highlighted the sudden
outcropping of her diamond calves which, despite the regulation flat-heeled
shoes, were ominously prominent; the pleated black skirt was lifted this way
and that by every bulge of her mighty oak-tree thighs and bubble-butt; her
shirt was so body-hugging that the sound of tearing seams and popping buttons
was commonplace in the classroom. Sally's shirts left little to the
imagination and as her male classmates were reaching puberty, the teacher
found it increasingly tough to keep the boys' minds on work; even minor
movements caused the sculpted slabs that were Sally's pectorals to surge
irresistibly, her perky young breasts bouncing, her nipples clearly evident.
Sally's B-cup breasts were in actuality no bigger than those belonging to most
of the other girls in her class, but the deep, powerful foundations on which
they sat and Sally's perfect posture ensured that they appeared much fuller.
Even the school's older pupils and female teachers envied Sally's plentiful
muscle cleavage.

Sally's teacher, Miss Richards, remembered well the time she had given her
class a lesson on the human anatomy. Realising that in Sally she had to hand
one of the most potent examples in the world of the human physique, she had
asked if the young girl would be so kind as to volunteer as a 'visual aid' for
her classmates. Conscientious young student that she was, Sally had of course
agreed, and she got up out of her chair and took up position in front of the
class. Miss Richards had then asked Sally if she would remove her clothes down
to her underwear to ensure that the class would be able to distinguish every
muscle group. Pupils regularly forgot their gym kit, and in such instances it
was school policy for them to exercise in their underwear, so Miss Richards'
request was not a strange one.

Sally was a little embarrassed, but she complied, first kicking off her shoes
and pulling off her socks; to do so, she raised each leg in turn, knee bent,
causing each calf to assuredly swell and then solidify until it looked liked a
boulder. Already the entire class was mesmerised, and Miss Richards tailed off
in the middle of a discourse explaining that muscles come in pairs as Sally
neatly tucked her socks into her shoes and arranged them behind her. Still
facing away from the class, Sally then started to slip off her skirt,
delicately easing it down thighs that were swollen and valleyed with
girl-muscle. She had to stay as immobile as possible lest a wave of power tear
through the material. Struggling now, Sally kept her legs straight and instead
bent at the waist, still carefully guiding her skirt down her legs; gymnastics
and ballet kept her flexible and limber. Reaching her ankles, her upper-body
was parallel to the floor, leaving her meaty hamstrings taut, and as she left
her skirt on top of her shoes, she innocently treated everyone to a sight of
her authoritative glutes stretching her panties tight. Straightening back up
and turning around again, Sally began to unbutton her shirt, starting at the
bottom and working her way up; as Miss Richards caught sight of her young
pupil's exquisitely chiselled abs, she gave up trying to continue where she
had left off and just stared, mouth agape.

On days that the class had gym, Sally always knew - for modesty's sake - to
wear a bra; the rest of the time she simply had no need for one. Today was not
a gym day. Sally undid her top button, pulled her shirt open, and everyone
present saw more of Sally than they had ever expected - or in some cases,
hoped - to see. Miss Richards collapsed into her chair; several girls became
very conscious of their padded bras; the boys wished as one that they had
brought a camera to school that day; not a single person was left unmoved as
their eyes slowly gauged the every inch of Sally's deep, sensual cleavage.

The sight had an especially profound effect on Miss Richards, who struggled to
come to terms with the fact that a girl as young as Sally - barely in her
teens - could make her own chest look woefully inadequate. Possessed by the
green-eyed monster, the next weekend Miss Richards had visited a plastic
surgeon and bought the biggest and best breast augmentation available -
blowing a large chunk of her savings in the process. She was delighted with
the results; with her svelte figure she now looked and felt like a Playmate.
However, the feeling of satisfaction hadn't lasted long; the very next time
Miss Richards saw Sally, the young girl had somehow squeezed herself into a
leotard for gymnastics practice - her pectorals alone looked like they pushed
out at least four inches from her sternum. At that moment Miss Richards
realised that no matter what, she would never be able to match this particular
young Amazon - especially when you considered that Sally's young,
muscle-pumped breasts were still burgeoning. And so it was that every female
teacher in the school eyed the 13 year old's bosom enviously, even the post-op
Miss Richards, who herself looked as if she'd secreted a pair of melons under
her sweater.

Sally, being the unassuming young girl that she was, had never even dreamt
that Miss Richards' decision to get a boob job was anything to do with her.
Sally was very proud of her body, and knew that other people found her
physique impressive, but sexually she remained very naïve. She was dimly aware
that boys and men found her particularly fascinating - judging by the way they
stared at her, at least - but she had never found herself even in the
slightest bit aroused by any boy...