[guydaley]

Introduction:

Guilty of lurking for years, I've appreciated a lot of the writing and the art.  I even started one story once, never finished it but I still have it.  Here is a first chapter of a different story and yet how many times have I read excellent, excellent stories that didn't get finished, left me hanging in which case I think I'd just as not started to read them at all.  In this, I could very well be one of "those".  I'll have to admit, my title is too cartoonish.  It does not attract my interest.  So perhaps you have to be a hardcord FMGer to get past the title.

Mighty Mite, First Encounter

Its just a good philosophy in life, although people easily get sidetracked and physical conditioning goes by the wayside.  We become tempted from a variety of things, a lot of times luxury becoming equated with laziness, the easy life, being pampered and comforted.  American women, in general are a sad lot.  Most of them have no more desire than to become breeder cows, partly because its the American dream that's been drummed into there heads and partly because it allows them to play with living dolls and not really work at all.  Of course they always complain raising children involves a great deal of work, but if that were true, then they should be lean and mean instead of gaining dozens and dozens of pounds of fat after birthing the children.  After all work involves muscle does it not?  and only muscle burns calories (essentially, other organs burn calories too, but its primarily the muscles that require the fuel).

I've never been fond of the so called American dream.  Where a man hooks up with a woman that wants to "have his children", while he becomes an indentured servant for the rest of his life, providing for the loved ones.   This being the case I've never forced to hang onto a job because I've got "responsibilities".  I always liked variety, construction, paperpushing, owned my own mailing and shipping store, even an auto shop even though I don't wrench but I can manage resources.  

But I got to the point where I didn't have to work (mostly because I could save money because I didn't have family to provide for and no vices).  I could buy a fix up special, live there and resell it.  Always modest places, I had no desire to work myself up to being a real estate millionaire.  I ended up in Seattle where I found a run down 2 bedroom bungalow for sale, something that I could live in and renovate at the same time; a little bit at a time.  

Nothing ever exciting happened in my life, plenty of ugly things, mostly work situations but I've never really gotten absorbed in anything.  I've dabbled in a lot of hobby sports and I'm above average in all not excelling in any.  I've always been interested in muscle though.  Muscle, the epitome of strength, physical power and sexiness.  Its always pained me that somewhere along the way in marketing circles women were taught to be weak and thin because those were desirable traits.  Of course if there was a full bustline that was a plus but in top modeling circles even that was frowned upon.   Whoever was responsible for thrusting those ideas onto women in general, I would like to put there dick in a vise and teach them the error of their ways.   I don't know how many times I've heard ignorant women say, "I don't want to look like Arnold",  when they were curling 5 # weights as they were talking to their personal trainer at the gym.

I just grit my teeth and go back to my own workout.  Every once in a while there is a goddess in the gym and I discretely watch their form.   A woman that isn't afraid to really work out.  But anybody that has spent time at the gym knows women are primarily wasting there time doing aerobics so they can get "toned".   Aaargh!  If they would lift weights and build some muscle, they would have a much easier time controlling there weight.  But that's impossible to get through their heads.  Hard for them to imagine that men that spend time building there physiques are just as interested in muscle on women.   Muscle is ALIVE, fat just hangs there.  If you've never had muscle, then you don't know what its like to be able to pick up 50 #s like it was a feather and that's where 99.98% of the female population is at.  In any case, all goddesses are always, ALWAYS spoken for by some guy that just happened to be in the right place at the right time and risked a certain amount of humilation.  Every once in a great while some guy will find a woman that has found the spark she needs to turn herself into a goddess but the process takes years.  Most women will lose interest perhaps because there progress is so slow.  That might be half the reason more men stick with it, its easier for them.  The other half being that they think they can attract a good looking woman if they too,  are fit.  But once I got into my forties I'm more into working out as an anti-aging drug than anything else.  In fact, I'm not sure where the time went and how I managed to get to be in my forties.  It all seems like a fairy tale to me.  One thing I know for sure is if I had family then I'd have constant reminders of how old I am, "Hey Granddad, when are you going to take me for a hike", or some other such nonsense.  

But I've always been interested in staying in shape.  Interested enough to stay in good shape but nothing special.  It would always come in spurts, go to the gym, work hard for 6 months and lose interest, take up bicycling go on some 50 milers and move onto something else.  I always loved the changes that would take place when I stuck with something for a while but I could never take it to the next level.  I always dreamed of a woman that could challenge me, be my workout partner, but hell, that's a pipedream.  Here I am 42 years old and I can outrun most any high school female (short distances of course, I've got mostly fast twitch muscle).   But why should that be?  If I were a parent I would encourage the kids, especially the females to get involved in sports, so that it might promote a lifelong healthy habit.  That's probably the source for a lot of my fixation on muscles.  You rarely see muscles on women except on tv.  I think perhaps in two decades of walking, hiking, traveling in foreign countries have I ever seen a female bodybuilder walking around by chance, that's how rare they are.   One time was at a travel show, one time was at an airport.  Even if they are fully clothed you can tell who they are by the way they walk.  

I'm self-educated enough and done enough self-experimentation that I could probably be a physical trainer myself but I never got the certification.  But I'm always interested in events or information that would encourage women to change there ideas about whats beautiful (which I think in my lifetime will not happen) and possibly get them started on the path to some level of fitness even though it stops way short of goddessdom.  

Now the rest of this account is strictly delusionary, because that's where reality slipped into fantasy.  I mean I think its fantasy that I'm in my forties now but that's bound to happen to everybody,  someday…..eventually.   But there is varying levels of fantasy.  Some of it actually attainable.  Look at Robert Wadlow, he grew to 8' 11.1 inches and its in the Guinness book of world records.  I suppose its only true if Guinness certifies it, right?  How could anybody get that tall?

I'm a fan of Covert Bailey, an author known for his books on getting into shape, being a fat burner instead of efficiently storing it.  All his stuff is great common sense.  I never go anywhere for book signings but he was appearing in a downtown book store so I pedaled down there (it was a nice day) just to compliment him for his efforts to inspire the American woman (I didn't care about his autograph).  I was in line, (I hate lines) and somehow I got into a conversation with a very nicely shaped woman, proud of her bust (she had every right to be) and it was fairly well exposed.   The store was packed with people and the woman I was talking to got jostled, bumped into me and I took one step back and stepped on someones foot.  

"Damn, you clod!", as she tried to step back herself but only managed to drop the book she was holding.  "Can't you stand on your own two feet?!"

Of course, I had quickly centered myself and apologized profusely as I noticed she was wearing sandals.  

"Shit that hurt", but she didn't limp, merely scowled at me.

I bent over to pick up the book she dropped, noticed the title, "The Fit or Fat Woman", by Covert Bailey, also noticed the corner got dinged and the front cover was ripped.  I stood up and started to get a good look at the person I trespassed on.  Fairly short, wearing a bulky sweater, baggy pants, hair in a pony tail and glasses on a cute little nose.  I'd guess maybe she was 16.  

I'm truly sorry, I see your book is damaged can I purchase you another?

She looked at it, "No, nothing but a little bit of tape will fix, its just a paperback".

"Okay" and I was getting ready to turn my attention back to the exposed cleavage when she said, "But you can buy me a smoothie while I massage my bruised foot."  

I hesitated, I figured that must have hurt pretty good because she looked like a petite thing, but at the same time, I didn't want anything to do with a teenager.  

"Okay", I pointed to the drink bar in the bookstore and she said, "Not here, its too crowded, I know a place."

"Lead on"

We went down just a couple of stores with her taking care about her foot but not really showing a lot pain, even though I put most of my weight on her foot.  

When we got there and sat down, I led the conversation, "I noticed your book, are you a fan of Covert's?"  Yes, he's a great author, he can put things in terms that make it easy for people to understand and when I train people I make sure they read his books."

You train people, how so?

I'm a personal trainer.

I was trying to think of something diplomatic, because I doubted her claim.

"So you train fellow students after school?"

The waiter showed up which stopped our conversation and she ordered an extra large protein shake which I didn't even hear because I was still pondering the personal trainer comment and still a bit disconcerted with sitting down at a sidewalk table with a teenager.  I mumbled something about glass of water for myself.

She slid her book forward on the table and said, "This is a book designed for women, what were you doing in that line?"

I did a double take, curious about her brashness, I knew right then this was no ordinary teenager.  

I decided to answer honestly, "I admire Covert, I wish there were more like Covert trying to encourage women to become fit and stop wasting their time with fad diets and always trying the lazy ways of getting into shape first.  There is only one way to get into shape and that is with serious exercise."

"Really?", she said.  "So whats your great claim to", and she paused, "serious exercise".  

This took me aback.  I'm not old enough, so chalk full of experience and wisdom to use the term precocious but I swear it fits in this instance.  

"Well okay, I've never swam the English Channel but I did hike Mt Whitney and its the tallest mountain in the 48 states and I've done a couple of 50 mile bike rides, spent some time lifting weights, gone on some multi day sea kayak trips, stuff like that."

It looked like she was appraising my physical condition, although I don't see how she could do much of that.  I had a light jacket that was unzipped and a light, loose shirt.  Also wearing shorts that a coach would wear and tennis shoes, but my legs were under the table, not much she could see.  

"So you get a hardon for exercise now and then?"

I blinked, blinked some more, "listen I'm really sorry about your foot", as I was pulling out my wallet.

"I know what you need and I know what you want."

I was standing up, with my wallet open and she meeting my gaze intently.   I slowly sat back down, folding my wallet, leaving it on the table, "and what might that be?"

"You want to get into shape, the best shape you've ever been in but you lack….motivation.  You just can't get it together long and hard enough to see the results you want."

Again, I was at a complete loss.  I just don't have chance encounters with teenagers that are interested in anything except piercings, tattoos, cigarettes or baggy pants.  

She was sitting there with her hands in her lap, I could see that she had some kind of fannypack under her baggy sweater, completely unadorned of any makeup or jewelry.  Just pretty eyes, beautiful skin, no idea what her smile was like.

"Okay Kreskin, (she lifted her eyebrow){does anybody know who the amazing Kreskin is?}things are starting to get weird here, and I'm not used to that sort of thing.  But I'll bite and I suppose your going to tell me your the person to get me motivated?"

"Are you working right now, like a regular schedule?"

"No"

She lifted her sweater to get at her pack and dig her wallet out, "I'm used to this sort of thing, it doesn't bother me anymore, I'm sure its going to pay off in the long run, but I'm 27", as she handed me her driver's license.  

I checked the date and compared the picture to her face and started to blurt, "It could be", she interrupted, "No its not fake, I didn't get a fake driver's license so I could drink illegally."

The waiter showed up with her giant protein drink and I was too preoccupied to wonder how a tiny thing like her was going to finish a shake like that, but she reached for it immediately and started to quaff it while keeping her eyes on me and my reaction.  

I was trying to sort this out whether to dismiss this and walk away, this was a bit exotic for me.  My life is too ordinary to run across practically psychic, little women.  No one thinks twice about people offering you drugs as you walk down the street, especially in Netherlands but personal training services and from some nondescript, clean but homeless type, teenager looking girl?

I was off guard from her demeanor, her composure, self assuredness, presence and appearance, "Okay, what do you propose?", I said tentatively.

She took another long draught from her shake, "Meet me at Corsica park tomorrow at 10:00 AM".  

The one on the hill with all the stairs, "yeah I know it", I said without quite accepting the invitation.  

One more thing she said after repasting the mustache on her face, and she set the big tumbler aside, "Let me see your palm."  

Your a palm reader too?  She had a serious look on her face and her brow crinkled up real cute but I slowly put out my hand face up on the table.  She kept her eyes on mine and without looking at my hand slowly drew her forefinger down my palm from my wrist to my middle finger and her eyes fluttered and I could detect the tiniest shiver while she did this.  

"Care to tell me what all that was about?"

When you stepped on my foot there was something real vague, because you were wearing shoes.  But now I'm fairly certain.  

She paused, took another drink, licked her lips, "I know I'm special, but there is something special about you too, its latent, dormant, it needs a catalyst.  Don't ask me how I know. Once you stepped on my foot and I got over the initial pain, some door opened.

She paused, screwed her face up, like she knew she committed a faux pas.  Dismissed it with a wave of her hand, "Never mind that, I'm a taskmaster when it comes to training, you either perform or I have no time for you.  I'll turn you over to associates that like to coddle there clients.  I want clients that are missing that one thing it takes for them to get to the next level.   But there's something more than that.  On the walk over here I checked out your ass and legs and there was promise there and tomorrow is the first day of summer.  

"Summer?"

That's a story, I'll tell you about later.  Right now, I've got to get this sorted out in my head and I'm sure you need to do the same thing.  She drained the last of her shake and let out a mighty belch (for a little woman).  "Scuse me", she stood up, "My name is Mite" and extended her hand.  

"Mite?"

Its short for Mighty Mite.  I don't like it but it fits and it took.

I shook her surprisingly firm grip, and saw her smile for the first time.  Along with a host of other thoughts whirling in my head I thought, what a surprisingly pretty smile, "My name is Guy, pleased to meet you."  I'll see you there at 10:00 tomorrow at the fountain?"

"Dress for an aerobic workout."

"I will" and with that she turned around and walked off.  She was swimming in her baggy clothes.  I could only notice that she didn't walk casually.  It was strong and purposeful.

I sat back down and tried to relive what just happened.  But then a smoker sat down next to me and broke my reverie.  I figured, I'd start to get psyched about getting "hard" paid the check and headed to where my bike was chained.  

[The_Pimp_NeonBlack]

A most interesting story, dear Guy Daley. Very well constructed and with fair characterisation -at least for the narrator and his opinions.

Though, as a form of constructive criticism, I's would be more mindful of such things are Speach/Quotation marks. As they are rather inconsistant and makes it most difficult to see who is actually speaking and when.
For one instance, your character of Mite is speaking with Quotation marks and the narrator is not, then it is reverse. Or neither have quotation marks.
This is merely a thing to be mindful of.

I's look forward to reading the continuation of this tale.

Peace
The Pimp NeonBlack

[mikazuki]

I thought Mighty Mite was related to Atariboy's Might the Mouse, but I enjoyed the story nevertheless. It's certainly different, a lot of character development. I find the characters very appealing, and real.

Welcome to the forum, even though you've been lurking all this time! I'm glad you got motivated (just like the character) to get into action. Keep going please!

PS. It seems this story will have many parts, and the order might get mixed up as threads get moved up and down (I am one of those culprits, yes). Perhaps, you could add a quick Chapter link list before your stories, so readers can conveniently find your other chapters, as well as the chronology of the posts.

Yoshi! On to chapter 2…

[Author]

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