Pendant Changes 3 — (Sunday)

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    Mark Newman

    Pendant Changes Part 3 (Sunday)

    by Marknew


    It was five in the morning. Celia had slept until two yesterday afternoon and she was still full of energy. There was just no stopping her! Her mother had once bought a book: "The Housewife’s Exercise Book" filled with silly little exercises that could be done with things around the house. Celia had found it and had been working out now for almost seven hours, lifting her bed in the air, pushing her arms and legs against her dresser, doing chin-ups from the door frame, as well as sit-up, push-ups, etc. Anything that didn’t make noise. When she heard her parents get home at one she stopped for a few minutes, let her breathing slow and then came out, as though everything were normal, and let them see her get a snack in the kitchen. Then they wouldn’t come into her room to "check" on her. She had been hungry anyway. Twenty minutes later she was back at work. She checked her biceps. Ha! When she was chatting with Lisa it was the first time she saw that she HAD biceps. Now they were far more than a placeholder for a muscle. They were a MUSCLE. She had power, and she was going to get more.

    What did "Lady Volcana" say? Her work would be rewarded tenfold? Celia had no idea how much exercise she was supposed to need to make her muscles grow, but this was fucking amazing. She was an inch taller than she had been since she was 13, and she was thicker, firmer all around. Where she had been working her muscles she seemed a lot bigger, but even places she didn’t know how to exercise, like her grip, felt stronger. She wanted to keep going, but maybe rest would help too. She could always do more later in the day.

    Joe heard the door slam and looked out the window. There went Michelle running again. What was getting into her? It was fucking seven in the morning on a Sunday! What a nutcase she was. Probably trying to work off a few pounds to get some boy’s attention. As if. He still felt stupid for getting a little turned on rolling on the ground with Cindy. But hey, he was a teenage boy and even though she was a total dog, she had tits. I mean, it was natural. He couldn’t help it. Now Pamela Brown, in his Spanish class, she was a babe! He flexed his biceps, thinking about how they might impress her. Grrrr! They felt a bit soft. He’d only skipped two days with his barbells. He got out of bed and started pumping them. After nine reps he started feeling a bit tired but squeezed out one more. Damn! He’d done 12 on Friday morning. Just ten today. That really sucked. He’d have to do more tonight. For now, maybe a bit more sleep.

    Frank wasn’t taking any chances today. He’d rounded up Harold and Chet and called Dave before he left and made sure Dave collected Arnold and Bret on the way to the school. Now they were all there. Amazingly, so were Sandy and Michelle, and some girls from the soccer and swimming teams too. At least Chloe wasn’t. She always worked out at the athletic club, which had a better pool. With the six of them there, and more sure to come as the morning went on, they took their usual position as the "owners" of the stations. But it didn’t feel the same as usual. It wasn’t just the girls there. He still didn’t feel right. And just from the sounds the other guys were making, it seemed, strangely that they were feeling the same way. Frank looked over at Dave, who appeared entirely caught up in his own workout. Yet Frank could tell that Dave was straining too and even seemed to be cheating on some of the reps. Frank, in turn, desperately hoped Dave wouldn’t notice that he had actually decreased his weight slightly. He wondered if he was sick, but he really didn’t think he was. If they’d had the room to themselves he could have had a word with the other guys. Maybe there was something wrong with the springs. Maybe the machine needed oiling. But it was impossible to check out with the girls there. It was all he could do to manage things so that they mostly controlled the stations. Keeping possession was always the game, whether it was football or the weight room. But they were getting tired. And each time someone stopped for a rest, a girl would get in and start working out. They didn’t seem unhappy with the way the machine was responding. But then, they probably had no idea how it SHOULD work. Not like the guys did. Then Chet dropped a bar, saying he’d pulled a muscle, the weights he’d lifted making a loud and embarrassing clang falling against the others, and Harold, the biggest of all of them, lay down on the floor, breathing hard, needing a rest. With only four of them working out, they lost control. Frank wasn’t sure how much longer he could have kept the pace up anyway. What was WRONG with them? Were they all getting sick? Not now!!

    Meanwhile, Michelle was chattering excitedly to Sandy. "I just can’t BELIEVE how good I feel! I LOVE all this exercise," she added as she pushed the weight up for the tenth time.

    "I’m glad you like it so much. It’s really good for you," Sandy said, smiling, watching Michelle’s form. "That should be enough. Let me go".

    "I can … ok. You know best, I guess. I wish I’d listened you before when you told me. I would’ve gotten started a long time ago."

    "Maybe," Sandy said. "Or maybe it’s just different now." She set the weight to her usual, thirty pounds more than Michelle had used, then added an extra ten. She lifted it cautiously five times — not bad — and continued more quickly with the remainder of her reps.

    "I think with all the running I’ve gotten a little trimmer, but I haven’t lost any weight. I guess it’s way too soon for that."

    "Probably." Sandy looked sideways at Frank. He was struggling with the curls, just like he was at the other stations. She glanced down. And he HAD reduced the weight. She tried to stop herself from smiling. Not nice! But she couldn’t stop the feeling.

    "Hi Martin! Sorry we’re late. We kind of lost track of the time."

    "That’s ok. I was just reading the Sunday Times. Great article in the music section about the Blues. Oh, hi Sandy. You look like you two really enjoyed the workout."

    Sandy nodded. "Yeah. Hey, I ought to go. I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Michelle. Bye, Martin."

    Martin waved and watched her go. "You know, Sandy looks like she’s really getting strong. I never really noticed her muscles before."

    "Do you like her body? I think athletic girls look great. I wish I had a body like that."

    Athletic girls? Martin wondered what she thought of his body. "Michelle, come on! There’s nothing wrong with your body."

    "Nothing that a few more inches of height and a few less jiggles wouldn’t cure. Speaking of which, is that muffin for me?" Martin nodded. "Thanks! I’m starving."

    Martin frowned. "Hey, stand up a minute."

    Michelle looked at him a moment, then did as he asked, without letting go of her muffin. He stood up too and then looked down at her feet. "What’s the matter?" she asked.

    "You’ve gotten taller," he said, looking her over more closely.

    "You think?"

    "Turn around. Let’s measure, back to back."


    "No one’s here. Come on. It’ll just take a second." Michelle shrugged and turned around, noticing Martin’s typically ill-fitting clothes. Didn’t he at least know his size? She really should take him shopping sometime. But he’d probably just be offended. "See? Your head comes just above my neck now. You’ve grown."

    "Really?" Michelle turned around excitedly. "That’s great! I thought I’d stopped a couple of years ago."

    Martin smiled. He loved her enthusiasm. He wished they could …. No. He didn’t want to ruin things. "I guess you haven’t stopped. You really look great this morning."

    "Thanks." Michelle beamed at him. He could be so nice. She wanted to give him a big hug, but a PDA with Martin was definitely NOT a good idea. Funny, now that he mentioned it, she did feel relatively bigger, compared to him. She’d have to pick up some new clothes, regardless of what Sandy had said. She wondered about that too.

    “So, uh, I never knew you liked athletes. You always used to joke about them.”

    Michelle looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean? Like Frank? What a jerk!" Oh! She could be so thoughtless! "No! No. I just meant, you know, when you said about Sandy.” Had she said something to hurt his feelings? No, that wasn’t it, she realized suddenly, and, feeling unusually bold and trying not to show the explosion of excitement welling up inside her, decided to take a chance. “Um, Martin, um I REALLY didn’t get that algebra thing at ALL! If you’re not really busy later, do you think, maybe, you could come over and help me with it?”

    “Uh, yeah. I guess. Sure. But I thought you just needed the homework.”

    “Well, I was kind of too embarrassed to tell you, but, uh, I really don’t get it at all.” Nervously she bent down to pick up a crumb. Sure enough his eyes darted to where her t-shirt opened at the top. He was checking her out! He DID like her! Now HE was blushing!

    “Sure. OK. But you gotta help me with the history paper too. You said —

    “Oh, there’ll be time for that!” Michelle said breezily thinking that maybe they wouldn’t be doing any work at all, if she was right. And all thoughts of Sandy and shopping for new clothes went right out of her head.

    The door slammed. The last of them was gone. Theresa took a deep breath and got up. Oww! It hurt every time she breathed, her shoulder was sore and she couldn’t walk without limping. At least nothing was broken — she thought. She opened the door slowly — yes, it was safe — and made her way to the bathroom. She didn’t want to look in the mirror but she had to. Ugh! The marks would never fade in time for school tomorrow. She’d be lucky if she made it back by Wednesday. What an idiot she was. Was she crazy? It was one thing to scare away three twelve year olds, or to play around in the school and make Bob or Frank feel small. It was another to stand up to her three brothers, backed by their father, drunk as he was. He couldn’t MAKE her quit school, even if he said he would. That much she knew. But they could do a lot of other things to her, and they would. She had been so stupid, letting her fantasies run wild. Her family knew her too well to be fooled. It would take a lot more to change their attitudes.

    She’d have to go outside for their food, not that there would be enough for her, except for their scraps. If she was meek enough, submissive enough, maybe they’d forget about her little rebellion and wouldn’t spit on it, put their snot on it. Ugh. She hated them SO much! And she was so hungry.

    "Very good, Jonathan! I like the way you said that. Let’s do the last part once more! This time, the words and movements together. Make it real." Jonathan blinked with exhaustion. They must have done that part of the scene ten times now. What was the point of doing it again? "Jonathan! Let’s go!"

    He moved into position, his annoyance clear, while Juliet licked her lips in anticipation. "You’re not here for drink, Mi-Lady, nor for food. What you want is not what a tavern keeper can bring you. You want a man."

    "DO I? Are you MORE than a tavern keeper? Are YOU a man?"

    "That is what I am, Mi-Lady."

    "You have the arrogance of a man, clearly, and the strength of a man. That I can see. But do you also have the heart of a man?"

    Jonathan took her arms and pulled her toward him. "Do you doubt it?"

    Juliet pushed him away. "Harder, Jonathan. There needs to be more passion here."

    "I didn’t want to hurt you."

    "This is a performance, Jonathan. We can’t just go through the motions. It has to be obvious to the audience. Besides, I’m tougher than I look. I’ll let you know if you go too far."

    He rolled his eyes. "Fine then."

    "You have the arrogance of a man, clearly, and the strength of a man. That I can see. But do you also have the heart of a man?" He pulled her roughly toward him, but she stood her ground and he stumbled, losing his balance. "Come on, Jonathan. Harder. Maybe you DON’T have the strength of a man," she said, taunting him.

    "Who says I don’t?" he roared, pulling her against him with all his strength. Juliet resisted but eventually her arms folded and she fell into him.

    "Not I," she said, satisfied, and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply. "Now THAT’S passion," she whispered into his ear.

    Cecile looked at her arm again and frowned. She wanted to flex it once more, to see if it really was there, that biceps muscle she’d seen while brushing her hair. But she was afraid to do it. What if flexing just made it bigger? But what if she was just imagining it? Then if she flexed it and it wasn’t there she could relax. But if it was there she’d feel even worse. And if she flexed it and it WAS there and flexing made it grow even bigger then that would be the worst of all!!

    She blinked away tears and stood up. She paced her room. NONE of her clothes were fitting right. Her tops were too tight in the bust, but it wasn’t because of her boobs. It was her chest measurement. She’d checked that. And the shoulders were too tight too. All together it made crease marks in all her tops, like she was one of those cheap girls showing off their busts. She DID want to show them off, of course, but not to be OBVIOUS about it. The fact that her waist was tauter was no compensation AT ALL! She didn’t have a weight problem. Not since she was thirteen or so, at least!

    Had somebody slipped some steroids in her coke or something? It would be just the kind of trick one of those feminist girls would LOVE to play on her. Just because she didn’t go along with their silly ideas. Why couldn’t they let her be! Why couldn’t they let girls who wanted to BE girls alone! Were they trying to make her grow muscles like Sandy? She didn’t WANT muscles. But could steroids make her grow taller too? She was almost an inch taller than she should be. Last week she was 5’7", EXACTLY the right height. Dave was 5’11". But now she was 5’8"! What if she grew another three inches. That wouldn’t look right at all!

    She took three deep breaths. Calm down. You’re just being silly. Girls don’t grow muscles. At least, real girls like me don’t. You have nothing to worry about. You’re the same person you were last week, with the same body. There. She was calmer. Her heart was back to normal. Now. Slowly. Just flex it. Nothing will happen and then you can relax and go to sleep. And get that beauty sleep! She took another breath. Now she was completely calm. Completely rational. She held her arm out. Oh! It doesn’t look right. Stop panicking! Just do it. She bit her lip. And flexed. AAAGGHH! There it was! What was it DOING there? She never exercised, never lifted ANYTHING! She never even tried in gym, never volunteered to lift another girl in cheerleading practice. Why all of a sudden did she have biceps?!! WHY!!!!

    For Celia it was a typical end of her weekend, madly scrambling to finish her homework. She had slept almost until 1 and woke up feeling great. No soreness, not even a strain. In fact, as she lay in bed she started feeling tingly just thinking about getting back to her workouts. Even better, her body had gotten even stronger overnight. She held her arms in the air while laying on her back and flexed them. Sweet! She swung her legs out of bed and worked out for an hour. Already the little "furniture workouts" were getting too easy. She’d need to go to the gym if she was going to keep at it. Ugh! But once she’d started it was hard to stop. The day had flown by. Between working out, eating to keep the hunger away, and finishing up just enough homework to keep the homework notices away, she felt like she was on the run all afternoon. At least she could do isometrics with one arm and her legs while she was reading or writing. Math was too hard, though. If she had to go to the gym to work out, she’d never have time to do everything she wanted.

    Now, a little reluctantly, she logged on to her computer. It was usually her main friend, but now it felt more like an obligation. There were only a few people on her buddy list who were online. That was strange. At least there was Lisa! She IM’d her.

    C: Hey, you there?

    After a pause.

    L: Uh huh. Did you go out or something?

    C: No.

    L: You weren’t on all night. I checked back. Getting zzzzzz?

    C: Working out.

    L: Oh yeah!

    C: Where is everyone?

    Long pause

    L: Doing what you’re doing. Me too. I’ve been "away" mostly. Haven’t wanted the distraction. But I’m eating now. typing with one hand.

    C: Oh. This, ha ha, Lady Volcana. Did she say anything else?

    Long Pause

    L: Hang on. I’m getting it.

    L: The branch, pulled back and released, snaps back to its place,

    The laborer, driven to exhaustion, rests only to complete her task the next day,

    The balloon air, twisted, contorted by the clown, when untied is freed but still confined

    Not us.

    We are released from our bindings,

    And take flight

    We are the branch that has snapped, never again bound, taking root, outgrowing the tree.

    We are the laborer lifted to the throne.

    We are the air, watching the collapse of the confining balloon, while we expand, surround, soar and spread, become

    the wind.

    The mighty wind.

    L: What do you think?

    C: Ummm. Wait.

    C: Sounds good I guess. Anything, um, more practical?

    L: Not much. Mostly she’s kind of crowing, bragging. She’s never been like this before. I read her old posts. This one was kind of interesting.

    L: Six days to create the world, then He rested.

    Five days will remake it.

    Let him rest.

    L: I think that means the changes will be finished after five days.

    C: Or will start in five days. When did she write this?

    L: Friday.

    C: Guess you’re probably right. How would she know?

    L: She’s connected.

    C: To what?

    L: The spirits. You don’t get it do you?

    C: Ummm. No.

    L: It doesn’t matter. I have to go.

    C: Me too. C U

    Celia signed off. That was weird — and not very satisfying. She was losing interest in chatting. Exercising felt much better. She got down on the floor and started her pushups. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. She felt like one of those marines in the movies. Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! It was so easy! She stood against the wall, her palms at hip level, pressing up against it, feeling the pressure in her biceps and her pectorals. Look how it was pushing her breasts out! Three minutes more. She closed her eyes and felt the burn, and then, the delicious way it turned into the nicest feeling ever. Well, the second nicest! She fed it, pushing harder, relaxing, then harder again, the waxing and waning of pleasure filling her, creeping into every crevice of her being. She wanted more. Wait a minute! That exercise equipment in Bob’s room. What if it were hers?

    It was ten o’clock now. Her parents were out again, probably at some friends’ playing bridge. She watched her chest rise and fall. Look at that chest! How high her tits were standing, how strong the muscles beneath, how tight her waist. She walked across her room and felt like a battleship, her breasts plowing the air in front of her like the prow of the ship. Now was as good a time as any. Her bright yellow shirt would do. It was tight on her last year. Now it was skin tight, low in front, showing her cleavage, her new cleavage. Faint outlines of abdominal muscles showing through the bottom. The sleeves stretched to cover her biceps. She tied her dark hair back in a pony tail. Time to be SuperPest.

    Bob had gotten ready for bed and was watching television in his PJs. The sports shows were filled with pictures of bloopers. Short passes, missed field goals and points after, strange fumbles, and sloppy, tired play all around. The only good playing was the women’s tennis, which was on now. Damn, what did Celia want? "I’m here!" he called. She probably wanted help with homework. So typical for her on a Sunday night after chatting on the computer all weekend. She pushed the door open.

    "Bob, you finished the ice cream! You’re supposed to take just two scoops, you know, and there was at least four left this afternoon. I’m telling Mom!" She put her hands on her hips.

    "What’s the difference? She’s going shopping tomorrow. Just –" Good god! What’s happened to her?

    "But I wanted some tonight. You know what she said last time you did this. ‘If you can’t take a fair share your share will be nothing.’"

    "Celia! Don’t –" He stared as she leaned on the chair, letting her new arm muscles bunch up and her cleavage pop out of her top.

    "Don’t what? What’s wrong Bob?" she said, feigning ignorance and enjoying his discomfort.

    "Nothing. I … you look different."

    "You think so?" She shrugged. "Maybe it’s just this old shirt. It’s kind of tight. Why? Is it giving you the hots for me?"

    "Celia! Give me a break!"

    She walked around the chair toward him and crossed her arms, making the sleeves ride up on her expanded biceps. "Oh, I don’t know. I’ve seen that look on your face before. Like when you’re looking at certain TV shows." She raised her eyebrows and laced her hands behind her head. She flexed her biceps and watch his eyes dart from side to side. Oh Bob, you are so toast!

    "Wh-what do you mean?"

    "I’m just saying that you probably want some things to be kept a secret. Between you and me. Like the ice cream. And other things."

    "What are you getting at?" he said suspiciously. She was right next to him now. She seemed bigger somehow. Everything about her was bigger. And why did her arms look so thick? His female muscle antenna was beeping loudly. He tried to think about something else.

    "Just, I think you should be nicer to me. And I don’t think you should be looking at me this way."

    "What way?"

    She pumped her muscles a few times. He couldn’t help himself. This was fun! "You know what I mean." She looked down at his crotch. His thing was pointing up through his bottoms, right at her. She stuck her finger right back at it. "That!"

    Bob turned bright red and turned away. Celia put her hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. He didn’t resist.

    "I know what you’re about, Bob. I’m getting stronger. I’ve got real muscles now." She flexed them hard. "Bigger than yours I bet, and I want to get bigger. So tell you what. You’re going to give me the exercise set. You’re going to tell Mom and Dad that we’ve worked out a deal, that I’m going on some exercise kick or something and you wanted to help motivate me. And if you’re good, I won’t tell Mom about the ice cream, or the other ‘cream’ that was dripping in here last night." She grinned. "Maybe I’ll even let you touch my biceps every so often. If you’re good."

    "Celia! This is ridiculous."

    "Think so? You want to see what I’ll do?" She brought her arm up slowly and flexed. Bob was transfixed, his hard-on bobbing. Just then Bob saw the digital camera Celia had set up on the ledge, clicking every thirty seconds.

    "Damn you!" He moved to get it, but Celia grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

    "I’m stronger than you are already! And your equipment’s just going to increase the gap. I mean the stuff in your room as well as that little pointer down there. Oh, I’m going to get so strong. Either way, Bob, whatever you do. But you better think carefully about pissing me off. I know what you like. Either I can make it nice for you or awful. I’m not just Celia the Pest anymore. I’m SuperPest!" She laughed. "So?"

    He glared at her. What a nightmare. And yet he had no choice. What if she had pictures from last night too? He cleared his throat. "Well, it’s not like I use it much. If you’re going to start on an exercise program, then sure, why shouldn’t I help? I’m your brother, after all."

    She laughed. "And don’t you forget it." She collected her camera. "Excuse me while I take care of these pictures. I’ll met you in your room in, say, ten minutes so we can move it." She smiled. "Thanks a lot, bro’" She made a kissing noise and left.

    Bob looked down at his still turgid member. "Fuck!"


    Wow another amazing part to the pendant sage, cant wait to see what happens with cindy 😉


    Holy shit. Super Pest. Wow…

    Evilest sister EVAH 😳

    Good work Marknew all sorts of verboten concussions of need going on in this here yawn.

    Thanks for the continued effort.


    Fantastic stuff yet again, Marknew. Thanks for all your hard work!


    I love the depth of your character development Marknew

    a b

    eewwww! forced incestial thoughts!!


    these stories are really good, though. keep it up.


    Great stuff, best muscle growth story I have read in a long time. I can’t wait to see how far the little pest goes.


    😀 😀 Hi Marknew,

    I know you are on or are going on vacation. I just want to say how good the stoy is so far and I’m looking forward to the next chapter,

    Have a great vacation.

    Rodman 8) 8)

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