Passages
"We'll see you guys in a couple hours," Gwen told Phil, and Ray.
In spite of Jasmin's objections, the two men had dropped the women off in front of Gwen's gym while on their way to shop for a new computer for Phil.
Jasmin stood behind Gwen with the bag she'd used for her ballet supplies slung over a shoulder. She was now over seven feet tall with a shoulder breadth of more than three feet. Her physical development had advanced to the point where the circumference of her upper arms were each noticeably greater than that of Ray's waist. Her naturally dark skin appeared to be in a constant struggle to contain the endless barrage of muscular eruptions her continually developing physique imposed on it.
In spite of her appearance of unimaginable strength, however, Jasmin was anxious, pensive and very ill-at-ease. She really didn't want to be there, but her agreeing to it was the only way Gwen would hand over the new cloths she'd made for her. Checking herself in the mirror after she'd put them on had made her gasp, then nearly faint with astonishment. It seemed that Gwen had 'miscalculated' her projected size, and, while the two piece, rust colored, lycra outfit concealed her chest, and pelvis well enough, it definitely left no curve unshown.
"Gwen, I feel naked!" the massive Asian had hollered in protest.
In response, Gwen had merely looked her over casually with an anything, but critical eye.
"You look fine," she'd stated, and then she'd smirked. "You ready to go?"
So now Jasmin was committed, and she felt like she should be committed for ever having agreed to it in the first place. Ray, knowing that clouded, downcast visage of hers as well as he did, looked up at her from where he sat in the passenger side of Phil's truck.
"You sure yer gonna to be okay?" he asked her.
"No!" Jasmin blurted, but she was only half serious.
"She'll be fine," Gwen announced easily with equal speed, and then she instructed Phil, "Don't get the first thing you see, okay?"
"No, I won't," Phil assured her.
"Keep an eye on 'im, Ray," Gwen then instructed. "You know how he gets."
"Will do," said Ray as he reached a hand out to Jasmin. "Hey," he called to her.
She extended her own hand toward him.
"Yer gonna be okay," he told her. "Y'know, just . . . relax, and enjoy yourself."
She gave him a weak, unconvinced smile, but then their fingers grazed each others palm as Phil put the truck in motion. It was all they needed, but then, as she watched Phil's pickup depart, Jasmin couldn't help, but feel that she was being abandoned.
"Come on," Gwen prompted her happily, "what're you waiting for?"
"For them to return," Jasmin answered.
She fell into step with her friend, and the two of them approached the gym.
"Oh, come on," Gwen enthused. "You're gonna love this."
Hold me back, thought Jasmin.
"I cannot get over how much bigger you've gotten," Gwen continued as she subjected the hulking giantess to her appreciative gaze.
"Yeah, well," Jasmin remarked with notable disinterest as she adjusted the strap of her bag. "I'm just . . . full of surprises."
"You think Ray could give me some of that stuff?" Gwen ventured.
"Don't even think of it!" Jasmin declared, then she continued in a tone of derision. "One freak among us is enough."
"You're not a freak, J," Gwen asserted sternly.
Jasmin looked down at her watchful friend.
"I wasn't talking about me," she qualified.
"Aw, you bitch!" Gwen spat, following her words with an energetic swat to the big woman's backside.
Jasmin just giggled, and soon, Gwen was laughing too.
If ever there was a fish out of water, it was Jasmin Jing in a bodybuilding gym. Even though she was, far and away, the largest, as well as the most massively muscular, physical specimen any gym had ever seen, her appearance had not been a matter of her willing. She knew nothing of weights, and cared even less about them. She was snobbishly inept at any physical activity that didn't involve a ballet barre. Well . . . any physical activity that could be performed in public at any rate.
The gym, which was Gwen's home away from home, was located in a huge, airy, well lit building of recent construction. It contained virtually every kind of exercise apparatus that could be imagined. The two opposing side walls of the main room were lined with large mirrors mounted roughly two-and-a-half feet above the floor. Above the mirrors, the wall space was occupied with enlarged photographs of the gym's long roster of 'famous' members, all of whom were impressively developed, and impressively posed.
The clientele appeared to be as varied as the equipment. It included every male, and female, physical shape, and size, from hard core 'muscle-heads' to ectomorphic 'pencil-necks'. Amid the din of clanging iron, and amplified, upbeat music, the two women stowed their bags, then ventured into, what was for Jasmin, an alien world.
As they proceeded onto the floor of the main exercise area, a noticeable hush washed over the room like a wave. The two women slowed their pace, and eventually came to a stop as, for several too-long moments, no sound, except the music, could be heard. Even though she had no idea of what to expect from the atmosphere of such a place, Jasmin found the phenomenon to be both eerie, and unnerving.
"Why has it become so quiet all of a sudden?" she asked Gwen, stooping low so she could speak softly without being overheard.
"You came through the door," was Gwen's casual response.
The already edgy giantess hardly found this information reassuring. In fact, it was only after Gwen had mentioned it that Jasmin began to feel an unbearable number of eyes upon her. It didn't help either that Gwen's new outfit fit her extremely massive physique like an undersized surgical glove, and left her feeling embarrassingly underdressed. She quickly became overwhelmed with self consciousness, and wanted nothing more than to bolt from place, and never look back. Gwen, however, noting the glint of panic in her almond eyes, took her by the hand, and lead her along.
"Come on, big girl," she offered with quiet assurance.
As the place got over the shock of Jasmin's arrival, and people began drifting back to their own visions, and their own activities, the noise level in the gym eventually returned to what it had been before. Gwen lead Jasmin to an area of in a far corner of the main room that was lined with rubber floor mats.
"Okay," she instructed, "the first thing we wanna do is warm up with some stretches."
"Oh," chirped Jasmin, grateful for anything familiar, "I can do that."
In the next instant, she was on the floor in a full lateral splits, doing port de bras.
Gwen looked down curiously at her very large friend. She was more than a bit surprised to see that someone as big as Jasmin could move so fast. She was also a little miffed to see that, although her friend now appeared as if she might be seriously encumbered by her outlandishly oversized muscles, she still possessed that damned double-jointed flexibility she so envied. It took a moment for the blonde hardbody to get over this mild shock, and then she began her own stretching regimen.
"Yeah . . . okay . . . ," she offered in qualified approval of what her friend was doing, not really knowing what else to say. "I . . . guess that's alright."
After a brief warmup, the first piece of weight training equipment Gwen introduced Jasmin to was a Smith machine. This is, basically, a sliding horizontal steel bar mounted on a vertical steel frame. An equal, and personally discretionary, amount of cast iron weights are added to either end of the bar to increased the resistance factor of pushing the bar upward. A system of hooks, and pegs, fastened to the apparatus so that the bar can be set at different heights, facilitate the users safety, and convenience.
Gwen wanted to begin by working Jasmin's shoulders. To set up, she set the stripped bar at her chest level, then positioned a flat bench underneath, and perpendicular to it. The bench could then be straddled in a seated position, and the bar grasped with both hands.
She went through a quick set of military presses to demonstrate what she wanted Jasmin to do, then set the bar, got up from the bench, and motioned for Jasmin to take her place. Complying, Jasmin seated herself on the bench facing the bar, but then she realized, due as much to her inattentiveness as to her inexperience, that what Gwen had shown her was a barely half-perceived blur in her mind.
"How do I do this?" she asked, tentatively gripped the bar as her mind struggled to remember.
Her enormous friend's naiveté gave Gwen pause. She took up a standing position on the other side of the bar so that she was facing Jasmin.
"You just . . . grab the bar, and then push it up," she told her rather academically.
Jasmin did as she was told, but as she began pushing the bar up, the safety hooks caught against the next higher set of pegs.
"Hold it," Gwen warned.
"What's wrong?" queried Jasmin.
"Go down a bit," Gwen instructed her.
Jasmin obeyed by lowering the bar slightly.
"There, that's good" said Gwen. "Okay, when you're starting out, you have to turn the bar to clear the safeties, otherwise you'll get what just happened."
"Oohhh," said Jasmin, impressed, and distracted, when she saw how the mechanism was engineered.
She immediately became fascinated with how the mechanism worked, and so she sat there, repeatedly engaging, and disengaging, the locking mechanism. At length, Gwen had to call her back to a less desirable reality.
"Okay," she instructed, "clear the hooks, and let's start again."
Jasmin complied, and proceeded to push the bar up slowly.
"Like this?" she asked.
"Yeah, that's it," Gwen encouraged. "All the way up."
Jasmin locked out her elbows at the top of the move, then waited.
"Okay," said Gwen in a manner of prompting her.
"Okay what?" the clueless Asian asked. "Wha' do I do now?"
Gwen was again given pause.
"You, uh . . . le . . . let it back down again," she explained.
"Oh," Jasmin chirped agreeably, "okay."
With that, she simply let her arms, and the bar, drop.
Before either of them knew it, the falling bar crashed against Jasmin's face, the knurl of the bar's hand grip tearing the end of her nose severely. Jasmin cried out from shock, and pain, and leaned back as she cupped a hand over her injured face. The bar continued to fall, and landed heavily across her thighs, causing her to cry out again.
It had all happened so fast that Gwen hadn't had a chance to react except when it was over, and her friend sat before her; injured, and bleeding. She was still in shock as Jasmin emitted a prolonged moan while keeping her hand tightly cupped over her damaged nose.
"Oh, J, I'm so sorry!" was all Gwen could think of to say at the moment, knowing that it wasn't nearly enough.
Jasmin began bouncing her knees to draw attention to the bar resting on her legs.
"Get this thing off me!" she demanded into her hand.
Gwen immediately tended to her request. Once unencumbered, Jasmin quickly drew the soreness out of the affected area of one thigh with her free hand, then flung the negative energy from her fingertips as she swung the leg over the bench so that she sat sideways on it. She'd recovered enough to realize how badly Gwen would feel if she saw her with her face ripped open, so, maintaining her one hand cupped over her injury, she set about healing herself as fast as she could.
By the time Gwen had raised, and hooked the bar safely, Jasmin had succeeded in stopping the bleeding, but then her friend was at her side insisting on seeing the injury. Consciously keeping her hand between her damaged nose, and Gwen's line of vision, Jasmin maintained that it was nothing as she worked on reconstructing her injury. Gwen, however, knew what she had seen. She became adamant with concern, and finally grabbed Jasmin's wrist, and tried to pull her hand away from her face.
The dispute quickly turned into a tugging match between the two women and, even though there was no way possible Gwen could've moved her upraised hand, Jasmin really didn't need the distraction from what she was trying to do. Several times she asked Gwen to stop, but Gwen had become lost in her single mindedness. In order to concentrate more on finishing her task, Jasmin finally jammed the fingers of her free hand into Gwen's side, and tickled her.
Gwen surrendered to distraction, and Jasmin managed to keep her pinned to the bench they shared with her groping fingers. After she'd finished touching herself up, however, she found that, even though she had a normal nose again, she also had a hand full of blood. How was she going to explain that? It was at that moment that Gwen, unexpectedly, wriggled free from her grasp. Needing to get rid of the blood in a hurry, and having nowhere else to put it, she thought, 'Yuch!', licked her palm and swallowed it.
"What in the hell is with you, you nut!" Gwen angrily demanded from where she'd wound up on the floor, clutching her aching middle.
But then she saw the residual blood left on Jasmin's face, and everything was different. She shifting into maternal overdrive, anxiously fussing, and doting over the giantess, then lead her to the lavatory where they got her cleaned, and freshened.
Throughout the rest of the workout, Gwen was ever attentive of her extraordinary friend. She took great care to make sure that Jasmin understood all she needed to before starting an exercise, and she spotted her carefully as she did the moves. Jasmin easily handled the maximum capacity of every piece of equipment Gwen put her on, and frequently asked if she was doing something wrong, because nothing felt heavy to her. In fact, she was more bemused than challenged by the whole thing, and often felt "silly" doing some of the moves.
For her part, Gwen was astounded by the amount of physical power Jasmin had at her command. No matter what she had her do, she was completely unable to either tire, or weaken her. She kept adding exercises to the workout as Jasmin consistently failed to show any sign of fatigue, and she ended up putting her through a very thorough full body workout.
By the time she called an end to the session, it was Gwen who was tired, and sweating, from all the effort she'd expended in watching over her friend, and keeping her from harm. An equal factor in her decision to conclude the workout lay in the fact that she was getting really fed-up of being constantly asked by a whining Jasmin, "Aren't we done yet?"
"I can't believe you," Gwen enthused in amazement as they were strolling back to the gym's main lobby.
"What?" asked Jasmin curiously.
"You!" Gwen declared. "You've just handled enough weight for the top ten Mr. Olympia contenders combined for a week, and you don't even look pumped. Well, you look incredibly pumped anyway, but you know what I mean."
"No, I don't," said Jasmin with a confused scowl. "I don't know what you mean. What's, uh . . . 'pumped'?"
Gwen purposefully looked away as she breathed a sigh.
"Never mind," she said a bit awkwardly. "Look, uh . . . I'm gonna go get cleaned up." She looked up at her huge, and massively overdeveloped friend. "You won't fit in a shower."
Jasmin couldn't stifle an exasperated sigh at this. She was getting tired of her increasingly voluminous body not 'fitting'.
"Aside from which," Gwen continued as she passed a hand over some of the many bulges of Jasmin's enormous upper arm, "you don't look like you need a shower anyway," she passed the backside of her fingers along the thick cobblestones of her friend's tummy. Instinctively, Jasmin tightened at the touch, the finely detailed etchings on her stomach becoming harder, and noticeably deeper as Gwen continued, "since you didn't even break a sweat."
Jasmin noticed how ill-at-ease Gwen was becoming as she spoke. She also noticed how her friend's nipples had risen after she'd touched her. Gwen's voice brought her back from these observations.
"So, uh . . . y'know, why don't you just . . . hang out here."
Gwen's eyes caught sight of the gym floor, and, with an inclusive sweep of her hand, she offered Jasmin to, "Watch. Learn," before admonishing her to, "Stay out of trouble."
Jasmin put on her very best patented look of calculated innocence.
"I mean it," Gwen charged her sternly before she drew closer, and told her in confidence, "there're some types around here you don't wanna mix with."
"Okay," agreed Jasmin amiably. "I'll just . . . keep to myself."
"I won't be long," Gwen promised as she took her leave.
Alone, Jasmin gazed curiously about the main area of the gym she'd just inhabited, her mind sifting through its recollections of the past two-plus hours. She'd realized long ago that nothing in the place could pose any kind of challenge to her physically, so she'd begun to wonder just what kind of a challenge it might offer her mentally. She knew that she could move objects around with the force fields she could generate from her hands. She was even beginning to be able to move things solely by applying her mind. What potential did this place hold for her in exercising her blossoming discretionary powers? Jasmin mused on possible answers to this question as she ambled her hulking frame back onto the floor.
She gravitated to an area that was devoid of people. There was a long rack of dumbbells positioned along one of the mirrored walls. Checking in the mirror, she was gratified to note that the place seemed to have gotten used to her presence, and she was no longer the object of so much attention. Still, she was going to have to be careful with regard to what she was intending to do if she wanted to avoid being noticed.
Using her body to shield her hand from view, Jasmin reached for the lightest weight on the rack. Maintaining her open hand about two inches away from the dumbbell's grip, she concentrated. It took her a few tries to get her focus right, but when she did, the weight rose from the rack, and into her beaconing grasp with such speed that it startled her.
She was surprised at how much her power had increased since just the previous night when she'd worked on compelling a pencil into her fingers by remote. Or maybe it was more a matter of getting the focus right. She held the weight in her hand, her fingers clutching, and releasing it as she pondered on her recollection of the mental state required to make the weight lift.
Concluding that her power could withstand increased resistance, she returned the dumbbell to its place on the rack, and moved her hand over six increments of five pounds each. She reached, applied herself, and watched the weight rise up easily into her waiting hand. After a time of more reflection, Jasmin repeated this cycle with each progressively heavier dumbbell on the rack. Being careful to maintain her reaching hand roughly two inches from the grip, she found that she needed only to apply a bit more concentration as she went along. She'd just succeeded in drawing the heaviest dumbbell, which was a hundred, and twenty pounds, into her grasp when
"Excuse me," said a masculine voice from behind, puncturing her train of thought.
Jasmin whirled around from start, swinging the dumbbell up to her shoulder as she turned. Before her, and below her, stood a dark, and powerfully developed man, his exquisitely defined upper body admirably exposed by his minimal sweats. He was looking up at her, smiling.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss," he offered quickly. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"Oh," the huge woman gushed self consciously, taking a backward step away from him as she raised her free hand to tuck an errant wisp of hair behind her ear. "It's alright."
The man stepped in toward the rack, and, with some effort, took up the remaining one-twenty dumbbell.
"I just wanted to know if you were done with that one," he explained to Jasmin as he stood back again, and looked up at her.
"Oh this?" the giantess queried, lowering her hand from her shoulder to hold the matching dumbbell out to him.
Poised mere inches from his chin, the man's attention, at once, latched onto the weight suspended at the end of the enormous young woman's fully extended arm. He saw the '120' marking on it just before he noticed the unflinching steadiness with which the weight was being held. He took note of the slightly less than ninety degree angle of the extended arm relative to the position of that . . . unbelievable body. . . It recalled to him the tortured expressions he'd seen on the faces of contestants as they performed the 'battery hold' at the women's strength shows he'd been to; the battery hold being an event where each contestant in turn attempts to hold a car battery at a full ninety degree arm extension relative to their bodies for as long as they can. The memory made it even more disconcerting to the man that this mega-chick's curious gaze made the fact that she was holding a one hundred and twenty pound dumbbell straight out, with one hand, look effortless.
"Yeah," he said after rediscovering his voice.
Jasmin smiled at him sweetly.
There ensued a mutually awkward bit of juggling as the man tried to take the dumbbell from her while she attempted to give it to him. They tried a couple variations of underhand offer/overhand receive, then overhand offer/underhand receive, but nothing seemed to work. Even between two competent individuals, the hand to hand transfer of such a heavy weight is difficult. While the man could probably have been able to accomplish the exchange with one of his peers, Jasmin was a total novice at such things. Finally he gave up, and amiably backed away a step.
"Why don't you just put it down," he suggested, "and then I'll take it."
"Sure," said Jasmin agreeably.
She replaced the dumbbell onto the rack. When it was nested properly, and she began to loosen her fingers from around the grip, however, she realized that her concentration had been interrupted while in the process of compelling the weight into her hand. That meant that the process of her exerting power had not been completed so that now the weight was essentially stuck to her. Knowing that she'd have to reset her focus in order to let go of the weight, and being painfully conscious that she was keeping this poor man waiting, she couldn't avoid feeling a little panic which, of course, effectively prevented her from resetting her focus.
"Excuse me, Miss," the man politely interjected. "I don't mean to rush you, but I am between sets."
What's a set? Jasmin wondered, needing anything, but more confusion at the moment.
After breathing a little mortified, "Oh, sorry." in his direction, she tried to reset her focus, realized that she couldn't, because she was trying, tried again, and couldn't again, because she realized that she was trying again.
Shit, she thought to herself.
She was going to need a reminder of just how she'd started this exertion if she was ever going to be able to let go of this thing any time soon, and, for that, she was going to need the mating dumbbell.
"Could I . . . have that for a moment?" she asked the man, extending her free hand to the dumbbell he had in his possession.
The man, quite understandably, gave her an incredulous look in response to her request. First she'd agreed to let him use both dumbbells, as he had politely asked, and now, not only did she apparently intend to keep the one she had, but she also wanted the one he had as well.
As he looked at Jasmin, searching for a damned good reason as to why she'd suddenly changed her mind, however, he saw how she regarded him, and, all at once, there stood before his eyes a troubled maiden in need of his most capable assistance.
A woman of such pure, and irresistible loveliness, sent to him alone from urgent requisite. He did so hear fair maid beseech as she could scarcely utter, "Please," in deepest yearnest replete with pleading eyes, and soulful brow. And, rising to the call, this man, this man among all men, this very man alone could do no less than what he could to soothe fair maiden's aching sorrow, and heartening distress. Unwilling, nay! unable to avert his eyes from untold beauty seen, he shifted the dumbbell in his grasp to where he held the plated ends securely nested in his able hands. And so then did he lift humble offering, so light it was, weighing almost nothing as it approached her beautiful, waiting hand -
"Thanks," Jasmin stated matter-of-factly as she finished drawing the weight into her grasp.
Her change of vocal tone startled the man from his chivalrous reverie, though he needed a moment, or two, or perhaps maybe even three, to shake himself fully awake, and back into reality. This was fine with Jasmin. Her taking of the other dumbbell had teased her memory enough to where she could accurately reset the focus of her power, and release both dumbbells safely in their cradles on the rack. Finished, she stepped back quickly, removed her hands to behind her back.
"There!" she announced triumphantly, beaming at the man, and hoping to God that he hadn't noticed anything strange.
The man looked up at her, and smiled . . . almost gratefully. He appeared to recollect his purpose from . . . wherever really, nodded and said, "Thanks," to her, then took up the weights he'd asked for, and lumbered on his way.
Watching after him, Jasmin felt a mixture of relief, and foreboding. She was relieved that she apparently hadn't been found out, and felt cautioned that she would have to be very careful about how she used her abilities in this place. She was also glad to know that her 'helpless little woman' act, which had served her well in certain situations, was still just as effective now that she was over seven feet tall with gigantic muscles everywhere as it had been when she was an under five foot tall little Balanchine dancer.
Since Gwen hadn't yet returned, and her experience with the man had unnerved her enough to where she didn't want to risk using her powers anymore, Jasmin contented herself with simply casting her eyes about the place for something interesting to watch. From the vantagepoint of her height she could see everything, and everyone. Everywhere she looked she saw people lifting, straining, grunting, almost all of them with . . . really ugly expressions on their faces.
Such effort she observed! It was hardly appealing.
Hmph! she snorted to herself from the bottom of her deeply ingrained ballet student smugness, If you think lifting weights is hard, you should try taking class.
Content in the 'knowledge' that none of them would last five minutes at a barre, she set about searching for something that was, maybe, just a bit more pleasing to her classically jaundiced eye.
From clear across the room, she spotted something that seemed atypical to the general run of activity of the place. Standing just in front of the opposing mirrored wall, his dark brown skin glistening in the light, was the most enormous black man she had ever seen. Dressed in what she was beginning to gather was the standard 'humongous-male-bodybuilder' fashion, he wore a haphazard ensemble of athletic footwear, spandex shorts and a severely abbreviated tank-top. Looking like he'd been sculpted from black granite, he was huge, and bulging, and was . . . beautiful, in an odd sort of way.
Observing that the sum of the man's attention seemed to be focused on the reflection of his extremely developed form, Jasmin noted how he would move, then pause, then move again, then pause again.
What's he doing? she wondered, studying the way he would move, then pause, move, then pause.
Almost unconsciously, Jasmin began to arrange her own gargantuan physique in the same manner as that of the man in an effort to help herself identify what he was doing by feel.
How's he making his arm bulge like that? she wondered.
After groping a bit, she tried tightening the muscles of her crooked, upraised arm, and then watched as her limb seemed to magically inflate to incomparable proportions.
Ho-yeah! she thought. So that's how he's doing it.
Jasmin continued mimicking the man's movements, pauses and flexions, as closely as she could, all the while gradually discovering his purpose. She used her own reflection beside his in the same mirror as a guide so she could imitate his movements with a fair degree of precision. The two of them, and their side by side reflections, moved as one, with only a slight delay on Jasmin's part since she was taking all her cues from what the man was doing.
Finally, it dawned on her; he's dancing. Pose . . .transition . . . pose . . . transition. Okay, fine, she thought, but what's the point - God my thigh is huge! He's . . . displaying himself, like in dance, but there's a whole different feel to the body - Jeez, does my back really look like that? Hmm . . . In dance, you're saying to the audience: Look at me, see what I can do. But with this it's more like: Look at me, see what I have. Or maybe it's: See what I am. Boy, could there be a discussion on that one. Ooooo, he should be pointing his toe more - Oh yuch! he's gone sickle-foot! Eah . . . typical man. Okay, but . . . just having something isn't an end unto itself. Having, or being, isn't the whole picture. What can you do with what you have? Oh, he's getting into another pose. Okay, stand squarely facing front, open hands resting loosely on hips, breath in . . . deep, let it out fast - what was that? It's like he's sighing. Now he's looking down at the floor, and shaking his head . . . What's the point of that? If he's supposed to be projecting an image of confidence, why is he looking so despondent? Wait. Okay, let's see what can be done with this pose. Tighten the muscles . . . all over - oh yeah, now we're gettin' somethin'. More . . . add the thighs - gol, how d' you keep track of all this? Make it tighter, puff out the chest - ooo-I hope you used a good stitch on this top, Gwen . . . don't want to have a blowout. Add the tummy . . . tighter . . . breath in . . . tighter still - jeez, why does it feel like I'm trying to take a dump?
Jasmin held the pose as she studied her reflection along side that of the man's in the far mirror. It was easy for her to compare detail between the two of them since, even from clear across the room, her reflection still appeared to be bigger than his.
Am I doing anything, she wondered, frowning with a curious tilt to her large head.
She then saw the man relax suddenly, and turn away from both their reflections.
Maybe if I try to make this pose bigger, she speculated, then she noticed that the man was looking down at the floor while shaking his head again.
What's - his - problem? she wondered irritably.
"Stop that!" she suddenly heard Gwen's voice order her in a harsh whisper.
Surprised, Jasmin relaxed, and turned to see Gwen beside her with her gym bag suspended from a shoulder. She was freshly showered, and wearing crisp, clean cloths, and was angrily glaring up at her for some reason.
"What?" Jasmin wondered innocently.
"What you were doing," Gwen told her in a calmer tone as she cast a glance in the black man's direction. Jasmin followed where she was looking with her own eyes until she saw the man, who'd returned to his quiet, self-absorbed activity of posing.
"Oh, that!" Jasmin said in tandem with the light bulb that went on in her head. "I was just trying to figure out what he was doing," she explained.
She arranged her monstrous physique into a pose.
"Wha' d' you call this?" she asked Gwen curiously.
Gwen stepped closer. She seemed ill-at-ease as she reached up, and took hold of Jasmin's very massive, and very fully expanded arm.
"Look," she advised her friend with subdued urgency, "jus' . . . y'know, stop it. Okay?"
Jasmin readily complied as she relaxed herself, but she was confused as well as concerned about Gwen's demeanor.
"What's the matter?"
"That guy over there," Gwen said quietly, glancing once more in the man's direction.
"What about 'im?" Jasmin wondered.
"He thinks you're making fun of 'im," Gwen told her in a low enough tone to where Jasmin hadn't heard properly. It wasn't easy trying to speak low while speaking up to her.
"What?" Jasmin asked, bowing herself lower.
Gwen raised both her eyes, and her voice, as she reiterated, "He thinks you're mocking him."
Jasmin balked, and regarded her friend with an incredulous look.
"What!?" she ejaculated in soto voce. "You gotta be kidding," she asserted. "That guy's huge, an' . . . if you're into that sort of thing, then I . . . guess you could say he's gorgeous."
"J," Gwen told her patiently, being careful to avoid looking directly at the man, "look at him."
She observed as Jasmin did what was requested of her.
"Now look at you," Gwen then instructed her.
Jasmin again complied, shifting her focus to her own image in the mirror beside the man.
"Okay now," Gwen asked her with slow deliberation, "in a place where size is everything, who is bigger; him, or you?"
"Wul," the massive Asian stammered, "I am, of course, but . . . " and then she became silent as another, different light bulb slowly made its way to full illumination in her head. When the realization was complete, she could only utter a self-conscious, drawn-out, "Oh no . . . "
"Yeah," said Gwen, looking up at her with a knowing nod.
"I should go apologize to him," Jasmin quickly announced as she started to move.
"No!" Gwen shouted as softly as she could, grabbing Jasmin by a wrist, and pulling back as hard as she could. Luckily, Jasmin stopped on her own, and turned to look back at Gwen.
"Why not?" she wanted to know.
The two friends stood where they were for a moment, regarding one other. When she was fairly sure that Jasmin wasn't going anywhere, Gwen relaxed her hold on her, and drew in close.
"Look, J," she tactfully explained. "I know how you feel about these kind of things, but . . . there are certain situations where it's best just to let it go. Okay?"
Jasmin understood what her friend was saying, but she couldn't understand the context as it applied to in this particular situation. She knew that she'd humiliated the man, albeit unwittingly, and felt that she should make amends with him somehow. Gwen could see her struggle, and understood as well.
"Trust me, " she counseled her friend. "Let it go."
But Jasmin couldn't 'let it go' as she responded to the pull that Gwen was exerting on her wrist, and slowly, meekly followed after her. She glanced over to the man, who was again watching her in the mirror he was facing. Seeing his eyes on her, Jasmin raised her free hand, and gave him a tiny wave along with mouthing, 'Sorry,' through a visage that was sincerely contrite. The man, for his own part, managed a polite smile as he nodded his acceptance of the big woman's offer of apology.
Gwen lead Jasmin to another area of the gym they hadn't been to before. They entered a dark space just beyond a tall sliding glass door. After depositing her bag on the floor, Gwen slid the door closed, then drew a heavy black curtain across it, plunging the two of them into complete darkness.
"Where are we?" asked Jasmin tentatively.
With the sound of a 'click', she could suddenly see her gigantic image fully illumined in a mirrored wall in front of her.
"We're in a posing room," Gwen informed her matter-of-factly.
It was, perhaps, a ten foot cube of space, four surfaces of which were colored in flat black. The two remaining surfaces were the mirrored wall at the front of the room, and door they'd entered from at the rear, which was completely covered by the black curtain. Adjacent to each side of the mirrored wall, as well as across the ceiling, was a single row of small, but intensely bright lights. They showed on Jasmin in such a way as to accentuate every extraordinary detail of her massive physique.
"Posing room?" Jasmin echoed as a question.
"Yeah," Gwen answered. "It's a room where people work on their routines."
What's a routine? Jasmin wondered to herself, although she uttered a tentative, "Okay . . . ," out loud as she turned away from the mirror.
Gwen stepped up, and faced her enormous friend.
"Alright," the taut little blonde addressed her, "you want to learn posing? I'll teach you posing."
"Posing how?" asked Jasmin.
"It's what that guy you were imitating was doing," Gwen informed her.
She moved away to one side, leaving Jasmin in roughly the center of the room. She observed her friend's image in the mirror.
"Alright," she said as a way to begin, then she instructed Jasmin to, "make a muscle."
"Make a what?" the confused giantess queried, frowning at Gwen's mirror image.
Jasmin saw a look of displeasure pass over Gwen's features a moment before she approached, and placed herself beside her facing the mirror. She deliberately turned her side to the mirror with her back facing Jasmin.
"Okay, stand like this," she directed, apparently demonstrating the first step of something.
Jasmin duplicated Gwen's stance, watching her closely in the mirror.
Satisfied, Gwen continued.
"Now tuurrrn back," she instructed as she rotated her shoulders back towards the mirror.
Jasmin imitated what she'd done, successfully executing that part.
"Okay now, pull your forward arm back like this," Gwen told her.
She lifted the elbow of her arm closest to the mirror until her balled fist was poised directly behind the crest of her iliac. She watched Jasmin do the same with her own arm.
"Bend yer knee."
The heel of her mirror proximal foot rose, flexing her knee slightly. Jasmin raised her knee in the same manner, but instinctively added her toes to the line of her extended foot.
"No, leave your toes on the floor," Gwen told her in correction.
Jasmin complied with the instruction, but scowled somewhat; her toes having an independent line relative to her foot did not set well with her classical eye.
"This is bodybuilding," Gwen noted, "not ballet."
"What's the difference?" Jasmin honestly wanted to know.
"A lot," Gwen answered with a strange smile of satisfaction. "Okay now," she continued, getting back to the business at hand. "Bring your other arm up like this."
She demonstrated by raising her further arm in a crooked position with her upper arm parallel to the floor, her hand balled into a fist. Jasmin imitated this arm, and hand position.
"Now, tighten your whole body," Gwen instructed, "but be careful not to - "
"Oowww . . . !"
" - punch yerself in the face."
Jasmin stepped away as she passed her healing fingers over her impacted brow. Gwen relaxed out of her own pose with a sigh, resting her open hands on her iliacs as she looked down at the floor to shake her head slowly. In the process of flexing her upraised arm, Jasmin had neglected to contract her triceps along with her biceps, and had . . . punched herself in the face with her upraised fist. She drew the injury into her fingertips, then concealed her hand behind her back where she dissipated the negative energy it into the air.
"It's incredible," Gwen muttered.
She raised her head, but purposefully looking away from her friend.
"What is?" a nettled Jasmin asked, still working to free her touch of pain residue. She'd bopped herself pretty good.
Gwen took a moment to study Jasmin's monstrously overmuscled image in the mirror.
"You have a body like that," she quietly declared, "and you don't have the slightest idea of what to do with it."
"What do you mean?" Jasmin asked carefully with a mild scowl to her features.
Gwen remained quiet as she moved off to the side of the tiny room. She was obviously troubled by something. Her reluctance was evident when she turned back to speak.
"This was your first time - the very first time you ever set foot in a gym," the buffed blonde stated. She became increasingly more agitated as she went on. "You don't know your ass from a hole in the ground about this place, J," "and yet you own it. You just . . . walked through the door, and you owned it." "You are both queen, and king, of this whole freakin' gym. Any gym. And you haven't got a clue as to what any of it's about."
By then, Jasmin was completely lost. Her scowl of confusion had deepened significantly. She was also concerned about how upset Gwen was becoming. She slowly moved herself to the further corner of the small room, hoping that the added distance between them would help. She was afraid of saying anything that might upset Gwen further, but finally had to confess, "I'm . . . not following you."
For a time, the two women merely looked at each other without a trace of comprehension between them. Gwen was the first to look away. Jasmin followed her with her eyes as she quickly moved toward the door of the room where her gym bag was.
"Alright," Gwen stated with a tone of determination, "I give up. You win," she said in a manner of conceding a bitter defeat.
She stooped to retrieve her bag, then, standing erect again with the bag in hand, she turned to face the massive Oriental.
"I will never ask you to come here again."
Jasmin's eyes grew wide. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment.
"Gwen," she declared, "this is what you have wanted for years!"
"No it's not!" Gwen vehemently shot back.
She'd spoken before the realization struck her that what Jasmin had said was all too true. Bringing her best friend to her gym had been exactly what she'd wanted. But not like this. It was the delicate looking little ballet dancer that she'd wanted to introduce to weight lifting, not the gigantic, overwhelming beast of muscle, and strength, who stood away from her looking . . . so fragile.
Both of them knew this now without another word being spoken. They stood in opposing corners, both of them suffering in the midst of a horribly awkward atmosphere. Neither of them knew what to do, or say. At length, unable to bear it any longer, Jasmin had to try.
"Gwen, please . . . ," she beseeched her friend from where she stood near a mirrored corner of the room, "please don't let the way I look come between us."
Gwen avoided looking at her as she blew out a quick exhalation through her nose.
"It's not, J," she assured her unconvincingly.
"No, it's not," she tried again, and failed once more to have it mean anything.
Unable, unwilling to hold back anymore, Gwen began to grind out an oozing mess of emotions from herself.
"Oh, what the fuck'm I saying," she spat, "it is."
She turned on the giantess.
"It has!" she stated with evacuating conviction that left no way other to survive than to explode.
"You make me sick!" she shouted as she violently hurled her gym bag at Jasmin.
Jasmin made no effort to protect herself against the missile as it struck an upper thigh, then fell to the floor where it came to rest beside her feet. Experiencing what she'd done only upset Gwen further.
"You make me so fucking sick, and disgusted!" she was compelled to spew before confessing, "And now you're a freakin' monument to everything I'm not!"
Gwen's wrenching statement had left her beautiful, Nordic features ugly and contorted. The two of them looked at one another from opposing corners of the tiny room through an atmosphere thick with bile. Gwen waited for Jasmin to get mad, waited for her to turn on her, to pick the bag up and throw it back at her, to put that fucking impossible body to use and punish her, get even with her, put her out of her misery, anything! There was nothing left as far as she could see. She watched her one, and only, very best friend, waiting for her to declare the end only to see Jasmin lower her hooded eyes, and bow her head.
Denied justice for her torrent of abuse, Gwen moved away from the door, retreating to the other corner of the draped, glass wall. She would've gladly died to escape the consuming shame she felt. Left with the knowledge of the awful things she'd revealed - things she was! - Gwen sank to the floor, and huddled in the corner with her perfectly toned body drawn up into a ball. There, amid the stillness she adopted, Gwen looked away into a spot of refuge she'd discovered on the flat black wall.
Gwen's departure left Jasmin with the full horror of the situation to deal with by herself. Her size only made more room for the emptiness she felt as she suffered through the first casualty of her transformation: the relationship with her best friend. Knowing how physically oriented a person she was, she'd suspected that Gwen would have a shift of attitude regarding her changed appearance, but she'd never expected this. Her enormous chest filled with aching sadness.
"Gwen . . . ," she called out in a barely audible voice.
There was no response. Gwen continued as she'd been, staring vacantly at the spot of blackness on the wall. It was as though she had succeeded in her vanishing, and there was nothing left of her except that fit, and beautiful, little blonde body, which she'd always tended to be too proud of.
Nothing, but the life compelling urge to move beyond made Jasmin shift her weight, lift a foot and place it just ahead of where she was. Then shift, lift and place the next foot, then shift, lift and place, shift, lift, and place until she stood before Gwen. In a single, flowing movement, she crouched, and offered touch. She recoiled when Gwen suddenly erupted in violent motion, growling as she wildly clawed the air, and pounded the floor with her feet. It was as if her gesture was an exclamation point, puncturating the last hope of the two of them continuing as one.
Gwen became still once Jasmin had withdrawn her hands, and she returned herself to the meager comfort of vacuity. Jasmin dared to linger, then, with difficulty, pressed herself to standing. A crushing weight of longing bowed her large head, and her massive shoulders. Denied denied, leave ill enough alone. With great regret, Jasmin turned away from where her best friend had once been. She moved to the place where she knew the sliding door was, and raised a hand to push aside the black curtain as she made to let herself out of the coffin.
"I'm sorry, J."
Jasmin paused. Her hand had just begun to move the curtain from the doorway. Her eyes saw not a thing in front of her. In three words a world had changed, and now they both were of the living once again.
Come friend, she found herself so pleased to wonder, let's begin.
After taking care to leave the curtain just as she had found it, Jasmin silently retraced her steps, then lowered herself to sit cross legged in front of Gwen. Taking care not to look directly at her, Jasmin easily hunched her torso forward until her elbows rested on her knees, and then she simply waited. With a patience born of gratitude, she waited.
It was some time before Gwen could bring herself to move. Bravely then, she gazed up at the incomprehensible mountain of strength who sat in front of her. Even seated with her posture slumping, Jasmin towered over her, and was truly overwhelming in appearance. She recollected how she'd always been taller than her very best friend, and now she had to look ever higher up to see her. She'd always been bigger than her friend with her petite little ballerina body, and now she was a walking monument. She'd always been stronger than Jasmin, perhaps, she now realized, because her friend had never cared for such things. And now that she was probably the strongest, and most massive, being on earth, it still, evidently, didn't matter to her.
Gazing up at her, with all the dark clouds having spent themselves, and passed, Gwen could see more clearly now. She looked, and saw, and she came to understand the mountain, and she came to understand herself. What she saw was J. It was still her J, who sat before her, and now over her. Still shy. Still delicate. Still so vulnerable.
"I'm sorry," Gwen said again, but in a much more recovered tone.
Jasmin judged it to be safe to risk lifting her eyes up to regard her friend, but then her shoulders lifted also. She'd meant the lightly shrugging gesture as a preface to a question, then realized, a bit too late, that it might be best to keep her massive build as still as possible. Now stuck with her mammoth shoulders slightly raised, she paused to wonder what to do with them, then opted to lower them once again as she softly asked, "For what?"
Gwen continued looking at her with a penetrating steadfastness that Jasmin was unaccustomed to seeing from her. It was like the one was perceiving in the other things which had been always there, but not admitted to before. Aspects so admired, so desired, longed for through the need of lacking.
Fill in the blanks.
Please fill in my blanks. Let me have some part of you so I can be. Not much. I don't require much. Just a piece. Just a small, insignificant little piece, so I can stop
"Competing with you."
All the subtle tension in Jasmin's face released on hearing this. She was amazed that someone as confident as Gwen could say such a thing. For want of wondering, she had to ask her, "Why?"
"I've always been competing with you, J," Gwen could now state with a casual tone, now that it was finally out.
She looked away to spare herself Jasmin's look of innocent surprise.
"Always," she reiterated before going on to say, "because I knew that the only way I could ever win with you was on my own terms."
She let this settle in before daring to look at her friend again.
"So, it's not you, J. Really. It's jus' . . . "
Gwen paused as she struggled briefly, then she had to look away as she was overcome with so many, many mixed emotions.
"Oh God, am I shallow!" she spat as if trying to disgorge a poison from herself.
She sat huddled in the corner, drawn up into a ball. Her eyes were crushed shut as she wrestled with feelings she had, yet didn't like. Jasmin knew better than to offer aid. She sat looking down at the dull black carpeting between them, her weight slumped forward on her elbows, feeling helpless.
"You . . . ," Gwen started, then she stopped.
After a moment, she went on haltingly. It was the best she could do. The whole thing was agony, for both of them.
"It's you, J." "And it's me!" "I keep thinking . . . and hoping . . . that if I work hard enough . . . try hard enough that, maybe I'll finally be good enough for you." "I've always wanted to be better than you, because I knew I wasn't, and never could be. I've always known I wasn't good enough for you, and now you're just . . . so . . . big . . . and so strong."
Every word seared Jasmin's heart. She'd always known that she, and the assertive hardbody were very different, but she'd felt that those differences were what made the two of them exciting to each other. She'd always approached Gwen with an attitude of equity, and she was deeply saddened that her feelings had apparently not been shared.
"Gwen, please," Jasmin beseeched her, sincerely not wanting to hear any more. "This really isn't - "
"It is necessary!" Gwen insisted sharply.
She looked at her friend with a determination that was desperate. Hard as it was for both of them, she had to go on.
"I have always envied you, J." "I wanted to be better than you, so I could be good enough for you."
She looked away, and had to pause before going on. It was terribly difficult for her.
"I just . . . wanted so much to be deserving. And," she laughed bitterly, "the worst part about it is, it's . . . none of it has ever made a shits worth of difference to you."
She looked up sadly at her friend.
"Because you've always been . . . so big . . . and so strong."
All said? All done? Jasmin wondered as she sat staring at the floor. Never before had Gwen given any indication of harboring such feelings. Why? Why had she come forward with them? And why now? Had her newly acquired size, and strength, affected her that much? The thought made Jasmin concentrate on keeping her body as still as possible, lest any movement upset Gwen. But then, she went on to herself, was it just her appearance, or was she projecting some kind of power she wasn't aware of that had allowed Gwen to open up to her? If that's the way she felt, her mind went on, then why had she insisted on bringing her to her gym? So many questions. So many questions. Why were there never any answers?
Jasmin knew Gwen's eyes were on her, waiting for a response to her . . . confession? But what? What ever could be said? Her mind was so empty, but her heart was so full! If a picture is worth a thousand words, then a gesture is invaluable. As no words could've expressed what she was feeling, there was nothing left to do, but to raise her big, strong arms, and softly bid her friend, "Com'ere."
"No," Gwen protested weakly, gathering herself up tighter in the corner, "I don't deserve you for a friend."
Jasmin merely shook her head, and told her, "Come."
Gwen rose up, and threw herself at Jasmin. Her arms entwined around her powerful neck. Her legs encircled her waist. Jasmin wrapped her massive arms around her, and drew her into herself as Gwen wept freely on her neck. The two of them clung to each other as they never had before; not with cloying tightness, but with the certainty bred of friendship. When both had filled their own, and one another's needs, they separated just enough so they could see each other again.
"I don't deserve you," Gwen asserted through her misty eyes.
Jasmin looked on her with warmth
"And I still don't care," she said.
Both of them laughed. Gwen clutched her big friend's neck, and growled into its nape. Jasmin's big shoulders went all tense as she squealed from tickle. Surprised, Gwen raised her head.
"Well," she stated, "at least there's something about you that's still soft!"
"Don't . . . get any ideas," the giantess warned.
"Oh . . . ," Gwen assured dismissively, "perish the thought."
She barely traced a fingernail along one side of the thick, muscular neck, making Jasmin cringe, then growl good naturedly. They sat together, with Gwen's bottom nested comfortably in the splay of Jasmin's thighs, her legs wrapped 'round her tiny waist. She thrilled at the feeling of Jasmin's strong hands on her loins, and she could barely grip the thick swells of muscle that rose up between her neck, and shoulder caps.
"So," asked Jasmin as she wriggled her pelvis to jostle Gwen's attention, "you gonna teach me posing?"
Gwen looked up at her doubtfully.
"As if you could care," she noted.
"Well . . . ?" the big woman offered openly.
"Eah," the blonde grunted, "it's getting late. The guys'll be back pretty soon."
Jasmin observed Gwen for a moment, then pointedly laughed, once, without mirth.
"You have never been with Ray in a computer store," she dryly informed her best friend. She went on to elaborate, "I have grown cobwebs - waiting for Ray in a computer store."
The two friends eyed each other. Jasmin's look was ominous, and foreboding.
"That's why I don't go with Ray to computer stores anymore," she concluded slowly.
Gwen smiled at her, studied her.
"You really want to learn posing?" she wondered.
Jasmin smiled at her, studied her, then closed her almond eyes and nodded.
They regarded one another.
"Alright," said Gwen quietly.
Over the ensuing twenty minutes, Gwen guided the hulking giantess through the classic poses that make up the foundation of physique presentation. Jasmin was serious in her attitude to what Gwen showed her, and was, for the first time, unaffected as she observed how the extraordinary muscles of her monstrous body bulged, and swelled under her friend's direction. Gwen proved a good teacher, and Jasmin a good student. She ran through what she'd learned at the end of the session as Gwen watched her from the side. Striking her final pose, Jasmin held it for a time so she could memorize the look, and feel, of her fully expanded forms.
"You could blow the whole world off the stage," Gwen quietly noted from the experience of her own perspective.
Jasmin's focus shifted to her friend's reflected image. There was genuine concern in her tone as she told her, "I don't wanna blow anybody off, Gwen."
Gwen kindly smiled her understanding. Jasmin relaxed.
"Except maybe Ray, of course," she added lightly.
During the ride home, the two women sat beside each other in the pickup bed with their backs against the rear of the cab. Jasmin sat with her legs drawn up, her elbows resting on her knees. She kept the box containing Phil's new computer still by gripping it between her feet. Gwen sat beside her with her eyes closed. Their afternoon together had taken a lot out of her, but it had also given her a lot. She sat quietly, alternately dozing, and thinking, then decided to start a conversation.
"So," she began by asking, "what'd you think of your first gym experience?"
Jasmin thought a bit, then looked at her friend warmly.
"Which part of it?" she asked.
Gwen sat for a moment, thinking, and wondering. She smiled to herself.
"The exercise part," she specified.
Jasmin considered Gwen's question, and found herself devoting more reflection to it than she thought she'd need. She had to smile at herself as she recalled the many times she'd carefully planned this moment in the snowball's chance in hell event that Gwen succeeded in dragging her, kicking and screaming, through the door of any gym. Now that it had finally happened, she had to admit to herself that her meticulously rehearsed ejaculation of contempt wasn't important anymore. She was a little surprised at herself, and only slightly disappointed to discover, that she had to, in all honesty, report, "It wasn't as bad as I was hoping it would be."
She wasn't sure of what, if anything, her transformation might've had to do with her change of attitude. Maybe it was that the two of them had just enjoyed fighting over the matter.
"It was okay," she granted with what she hoped was convincing reluctance.
She really didn't want to take any of the sweetness from her best friend's victory.
"It was kind of interesting actually."
What were they going to fight over now? she wondered.
Gwen sat with her eyes closed for awhile, savoring her triumph.
"See," she quietly beamed. "I told ya."
"Ma-ny, ma-ny times," Jasmin droned with notable fatigue.
"Well, all the same," Gwen mentioned more to close the subject. There were other things occupying her mind.
"I learned something very valuable from you today," she began.
Jasmin waited for her to go on, then gently prompted her.
"Yeah?"
She was thinking of what a superklutz she must've proven herself to be, what with her injury, and all, and the really stupid way she'd treated that poor black guy. Gwen's voice brought her out of these reflections.
"I'd been seriously thinking about hiring myself out as a trainer," she explained thoughtfully, "but you showed me that I've got a lot to learn before I do that."
"Gol," said Jasmin, feeling so abashed that she had to look away, "was I that bad?"
"No," Gwen told her quickly as if correcting her. She was still mystified by Jasmin's strength. "You were incredible."
Jasmin snorted.
"Oh yeah, right."
"No, really," Gwen insisted.
She raised a fist, and lightly punched her big friend's mighty shoulder.
"You are the queen, and the king."
She meant it this time, and meant it in the best way.
The two friends regarded one another.
"You really are," Gwen said again.
She looked away to continue with her original thought.
"The thing is," she went on, "it was your first time, and I just assumed that you'd know how to do the moves."
She paused a moment, then said reflectively, "I was wrong."
She paused again, becoming somber.
"Boy was I wrong."
Jasmin sensed Gwen's change of mood, and couldn't help, but feel responsible. She encircled an enormous arm around Gwen's well toned shoulders, and drew her close to herself.
"Hey," she consoled, just between they two, "don't be so hard on yourself." She smiled, and added with a quiet laugh, "I survived."
"That's not the point, J," Gwen told her as she went on to elaborate, thinking her way along as she spoke. "Because I didn't know what I was doing, I could've gotten you seriously hurt - gol, what'm I saying? I did get you hurt." "But it could've been a lot worse. And that would've been bad." "That would've been really bad."
Watching Gwen, Jasmin had a surge of feeling toward her friend. She drew her closer, and then just listened.
"I mean," Gwen continued, "I've been doing this for a long time, so it's natural for me to think, like, doing a biceps curl. Okay, do a biceps curl. Anybody knows how to do a biceps curl." "But not everyone does know how to do a biceps curl."
Jasmin felt, and gratified, the need to lightly clear her throat.
"In fact," Gwen went on reflectively, "there are a lot of wrong ways to do a biceps curl."
Jasmin felt, and gratified, the need to lightly cough, and pat her upper chest.
"And you showed me just about every one of them."
Jasmin cleared her throat again, then sniffed and ran the fingers of her free hand through the side of her hair.
"It made me think back to when I first started working out."
"Umhm," her huge friend murmured quietly.
"I mean, back then, I didn't know anything either," said Gwen, "just like you don't now."
The corners of Jasmin's mouth pursed as she sighed quietly to herself. Comforting Gwen could be costly, she thought, but she continued listening anyway.
"I have to think about not just how the moves are done, but how to do them safely."
She snuggled closer to Jasmin, and laid her head against her breast.
"I've got a lot of learning to do before I start thinking about taking on clients." "I wouldn't have realized that if it hadn't been for you."
Jasmin felt both edges of Gwen's left-handed compliment, but she let the warmth outweigh the sting.
"Well, since you put it that way," the big Asian offered, "I'm glad I could screw ya up."
The two friends shared an intimate laugh over this, and nestled closer to each other. Both delighted in the unusual comfort that they were finding in one another.
"Thanks," Gwen offered quietly.
"Hmm," the giantess murmured in return. "What're friends for?"
They only shared a smile this time, neither of them wanting to move. Gwen quietly thrilled in the embrace of her enormous friend. She was so big, so powerful, and so comforting. Jasmin felt a strange, and wonderful, sense of fulfillment having Gwen close to her, safely under her wing. They were quiet for a time, then Gwen confided to her, "You make a nice pillow."
Jasmin smiled. On an instinct, she nuzzled her cheek against Gwen's crown. Gwen thrilled again at this primal gesture of affection, and released a sigh. She closed her eyes to relish the sensation of being warm, and protected. She realized that she hadn't felt such exhilarating tranquility since she'd been a child, held in her mother's arms. The epiphany relaxed her even more, and soon she was fast asleep as Jasmin idly looked off onto the barely receding horizon.
Next: To be announced | Index
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