low

2 swolestacks having a good time outgrowing each other. Two girls who are trying to get bigger mainly because they're tired being mocked for being small.

Part I

The door shut quietly. Mary was waiting on the couch. “Hey,” the petite fox chimed over the cop show on the adjacent TV. Leigh dropped her books and her bag and slid down the door, burying her face in her arms. Mary stared in shock as Leigh quietly sobbed. Minutes passed before the squirrel stopped audibly crying. “You good?” Mary asked. “...no.” Leigh quietly whimpered between sniffles. Mary gently strode over to her roommate. She carefully sat next to the squirrel and put her arm around the quivering girl’s shoulders. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Mary asked softly. “It’s Dana... again. I was in the geology lab and the lab assistant was demoing something, and then he cracked up in the middle of a sentence. Dana was behind me, peeking around me and doing stupid things with her hands. Like, she was pretending to rest her head on the top of mine, and… and then the whole class cracked up,” Leigh explained breathlessly. “That’s awful. Why didn’t you say anything?” “It would have made it worse.” “Was it Danmore doing the lab?” “Yeah, how’d you know?” “Dana’s... sleeping with him.” Leigh banged her head against the door.

“Hey Vix...” Leigh squeaked. “Vix? God, you haven’t called me that in a long time. When did you start calling me that, third grade?” “Probably. Or a bit later? We still had recess at the playground though. You remember that, right? Running around with all the others?” “Yeah, that was a blast. Remember when I kicked that kid off the slide? Randy, right?” “Didn’t that get you suspended?” “No, just detention.” “Well you deserved it, that guy was cute.” “All he got was a scraped knee. I’m the one that had to listen to him crying in the principal’s office for an hour, that should have been punishment enough!” “You remember how we used to run around with everyone else? For a little bit, you were the tallest in our grade.” “Funny how things change, huh?” “...I wish I was as tall as everyone else again. I don’t know how you put up with this.” Leigh leaned on her friend. “It’s easy. I can’t change how tall I am, so I just deal with it.” “Did people mess with you like they do with me?” “Not so much. I made a lot of jokes about being short, so I guess they didn’t have to.” “You remember that game we used to play?” “That fucking spelling one that Mrs. Mannsford gave us when she was tired of teaching, or the one with the marbles? That one was so much fun. I swear to god, I couldn’t stop laughing when you figured out how to replace the sounds on that one.” “No, not the computer ones. The one where we would run around the playground and one of us would pretend to be a giant or a monster or something.” “Yeah, that was pretty fun.”

The pair sat in silence for a while.

“Okay, so we can’t get taller. Have you thought about thickening up a bit? You know, putting on some beef?” Mary asked. “What? Like, going to the gym or something?” “Yeah. Lifting weights and shit.” “Not really. Don’t guys find girls that do that stuff gross?” “I think you’d be surprised, sis.” “I mean, campus gym is around the corner. I guess I could try some later.” “I’ll make you a deal. You go, I’ll go too. Fair enough?” “Fair enough.”

Part II

Mary and Leigh shared many things. History, interests, and on occasion, clothes. This came in handy seeing as Leigh had nothing remotely resembling workout clothes, and was about to go to the gym in tight jeans. Mary stopped her and offered her a pair of tights that would more than adequately replace the denim, which Leigh happily accepted. What Mary couldn’t talk Leigh out of was wearing her Captain Sol and LunaGirl tee. Leigh had adopted the shirt as a sort of good luck charm. Its track record for luck was… spotty, but she had faith in it. Leigh had brought her comic collection to college, taking far more than her fair share of scarce closet space to store the volumes. The boxes of carefully-tended pamphlets stood taller than either of the girls. By far, the Captain Sol universe was Leigh’s favorite. She could recite the summary of almost every of the 512 “Mainline” comics (which was before Quantum accidentally split the universe in to a couple dozen competing plotlines in Captain Sol #525, which Leigh could wax poetic about for hours). Surprisingly, what drew her to the comic series wasn’t the well-built heroes and heroines in outfits so form-fitting that they might as well have been painted on. Nor was it the recurring victories for Good over Evil that so characterized the series to a point of ridicule. In fact, it Captain Sol’s arch-nemesis enraptured the squirrel. In many ways, she identified with the bespectacled feline villain. Sans the failure-prone dastardly plots and poorly-executed world domination plans, of course. With her “lucky” vintage tee hanging loosely from her, she and Mary set off for the gym. The campus gym was theoretically shared by all residents, but mostly used by the more serious sports teams. For Ft. Manner University, that meant Football for the men and Volleyball for the women. The other sports were not particularly welcome by the members of the reigning teams, but as long as other men kept their distance from the testosterone-ridden weight room, and the women kept away from the 1000-square-foot clique of a cardio room, there was generally no problem. (Until ruts and heats come in to play – in those cases, it’s best for everyone else to stay home, or come… prepared.) Having some experience from her semester with the Tennis team, Mary tactfully guided Leigh away from the no-go zones, and lead her to one of the small, modestly equipped auxiliary rooms. It had just enough to get started: an exercise ball, some light weights (all under 35lbs), a pull-up bar affixed to the wall, some mirrors and various yoga equipment. Mary yanked a mat out and expertly unfurled. She stood, waiting for Leigh to do the same. Instead, found herself the recipient of a confused stare. “I thought you said we were going to lift weights?” the squirrel asked, her tone almost bordering on disappointment. “We still are. You need to do some stretching first. It sucks, but pulling stuff sucks more, trust me.” “Do we really have to?” Leigh whined. “I mean, I’m not a cop; I’m not gonna make you,” Mary said in response. “Ok, so no. Let’s skip that. It seems boring.” “Fine, but consider yourself warned.” “I am always warned...” Leigh said, quoting Captain Sol with a faux-deep voice. Mary chuckled. While she didn’t have quite the extensive background in spandex-themed entertainment that her friend did, she did have a surface-level understanding of the cliches and catchphrases. Leigh had even gotten her to read a few of the more popular issues from her archive, but Mary’s attention turned elsewhere too quickly for her to spend time reading 1950s-era comics in her shrinking free time. Mary pointed to the pull-up bar. “Think you can do one?” She asked. “Dunno. It can’t be that hard, right?” The squirrel hopped up on the bar, her lush tail flitting around as she tried to stop swinging. “You ready to start counting, Vix?” she said, in position. “Sure...” The squirrel tensed her arms, looked up, and… nothing. She huffed and tried again. She made it almost half way before her arms started shaking and she let go of the bar. “What the FUCK?” “Hard, huh?” “There’s no way pulling yourself up is THAT hard… is there?” “Why do you think I asked if you could do ONE?” “Ok, fine. How many can YOU do?” “Four or five, I think.” “Prove it.” “We’re getting carried away, don’t you think?” “Chicken.” “Fine.” The fox strutted up to the bar. Her form was more correct than the squirrel’s had been. Her hands were at shoulder-width on the bar, legs bent at the knee, face forward, so on. With much effort, she repped out three pull-ups before she could do no more. “Not quite five, showoff,” the squirrel teased. “Still three more than you...” Mary fought to recover her own childhood nickname for Leigh. “nuts.” Leigh stared in surprise and indignation. “Turnaround’s fair play, you know.” Mary’s cellphone started to buzz in her pocket. She glanced at the screen. “Gotta bolt for a few, mum’s calling. I’ll be back in like 30 minutes. Try doing some push-ups or something.” The fox answered her phone as she left the room.

Push-ups? Easy enough. She got down on the mat Mary had left out, and positioned herself. The first ten were a real struggle for her, but by the time she hit 30 or so, the feeling of exhaustion had faded. She felt a burn up the backs of her arms and in to her chest. By the time she hit 50, she felt like she could go on all day. After 90, she decided that was probably enough for now. Standing up, something felt off. Her shirt felt different on her shoulders and arms, and around her chest. She looked around for the mirror and almost screamed. Her shoulders were massive. The size of cantaloupes, easily. The backs of her arms had grown a full horseshoe-shape. She could see her chest pressed against the shirt, pulling it taught. She looked around the room for any visible cameras, and finding none, pulled up her shirt to take a look. What she found were two thick slabs of muscle, with… bigger breasts hanging off them? “Huh? Exercise doesn’t make tits grow…” she thought, remembering that much from her high school anatomy class. She flexed her newfound muscles a bit, mesmerized by how they would bunch up as she commanded them to. Her gaze turned to the pull-up bar again. She unfurled her shirt and hopped back up. This time, she did not give up so easily. She managed a full rep. One turned to two, two to four, four to ten, and ten to thirty. On number thirty, she noticed something odd. When she returned to the starting position, she felt something touch her face. Two things, actually. Breaking her trance for a split second, she found her biceps to be the culprits. They were immense, even titanic. They had to be the size of her head. Larger, actually, she concluded. Along them, she could see a thick vein throbbing through her fur. Taking inventory of the rest of her body, she found her back had thickened and stretched out to the point where it was, like her arms, straining her shirt. She suppressed the adrenaline for just long enough to squeeze herself out of the shirt… mostly. When she tried to slide it off her arms, she found it stuck to them. She struggled with it, let it back down in defeat. Seeing the fabric pressed against her gave her an idea. She brought her arms up, and in a split second, flexed her arms as hard as she could. She heard the seams on the sleeves pop, and she carefully pulled it over her head, not wanting to damage it further. She admired her hulking, if uneven physique in the mirror. She could see parts of her back jutting out far enough to push her arms away from her torso. She posed more, toying with the overflowing beef packed on to her tiny frame. “Jesus, I’m bigger than Bulge...” she thought. “Let’s see how big I can get.” She returned to the pull-up bar. Her dainty hands, connected to hamlike, vascular forearms, gripped the bar with such power that she left an imprint. She pulled until she could no more. She had lost track around 290, and that felt like an hour ago. She felt like she could absolutely keep going now, but her biceps were so large that she could no longer bend her arms enough to get her chin to the bar. She watched the web of veins pulse across her swollen arms. Somehow, the rest of her torso had taken advantage of the copious gains, leaving her legs absolutely puny in comparison. Her shoulders had to be the size of basketballs. Her pecs looked like someone had shoved gallon milk jugs under her skin. Speaking of gallon milk jugs, her tits had outpaced her immense pecs, becoming like perfectly-round beachballs. Her core had fist-sized abs jutting out on full display, accented by cords of oblique muscle. She looked at her legs. No longer could she see them directly; her chest obstructed the view. Looking at them in the mirror, she needed a way to bulk them up too. She looked over at the weight rack. It ranged from 5 to 35lbs in increments of 5. “There’s no way any of those will be enough...” she thought. “but what about all of them?” She stomped over to the rack and grabbed it by the edges. She slowly forced her hulking body up. At first the rack didn’t budge. Then, she heard a groan as the bolts holding it down came to an untimely end. The rack lifted off the ground, held aloft by her huge arms (now slightly huger thanks to the exertion.) She raised the metal rack above her head (long since overshadowed by towering traps), and performed a squat. Her lower body wasted no time in accommodating the new weight. Mary’s tights were turned to shreds as her quads, glutes, and calves burst out and continued swelling as she pushed herself back up. Each rep poured more mass on to her body. Her torso, not wanting to be left behind, engorged too. After a couple dozen of these makeshift squats, she tossed the rack down to the ground, causing an earthshaking tremor. Tremor… Her memory returned to geology. All the serious sounding names… they would make for a perfect hero name. Or better yet, a villain… For a few minutes, the giant stood, pondering what she should call herself. She had no intention to do anything dramatic, but still, when you suddenly become larger and stronger than every professional wrestler put together, you should really cover your bases and pick a name for good measure. She paced around the room, leaving inch-deep footprints in the covered concrete and a sending quakes across the floor. “Tremor sounds too much like Trevor...” she thought out loud. Looking around the room for more inspiration, she saw the crack she had left in the wall when she threw the weights down next to it. The Fracture…