[Mark Newman]

Pendant Changes

by Marknew (with scenes, ideas and other help by Nomdreserv gratefully appreciated and acknowledged)

FRIDAY

"Did you take my new CD?" Michelle asked sharply, confronting her brother, Joe. He was lying on his bed, listening to music on his portable player. The loud base was leaking out from the headset, giving Michelle a headache.

He lifted the headphone an inch. "What?"

"Do you have my new CD?" she asked again testily.

He shrugged, letting the headphones settle back. "Maybe."

She strode angrily over to him. "Give it back!" she snapped. "You know I’m planning to bring it to Sandy’s tonight." She was otherwise packed and ready for their sleepover. She looked around his room. At first she didn’t see, then she spotted it, half out of the case, on top of his dirty laundry. Ugh!

"When I’m finished," he said airily.

Overcoming her discussed she bent down and reached for it. It seemed just the excuse he was looking for. In an instant, he’d snagged her wrist hard, deliberately squeezing and twisting it in his hand.

"Oww!" she cried, trying desperately and unsuccessfully to pull away. "Let go!"

He just grinned. "Not until you apologize."

"Apologize?" she gasped, her astonishment overriding the pain. "For what? You took MY CD." She tried again to twist away, and he just held harder.

"I just ‘borrowed it," he corrected. "And Mom said I could. She said you can’t hog them when you’re not listening to them, remember?"

"That was yesterday," she complained. "I AM going to listen to it tonight!"

Abruptly, he pulled her onto the bed. "Wrestle you for it," he suggested, already pining her arms behind her back with one hand.

"You are such a SHIT!" she exclaimed, feeling completely helpless in his grasp, the grasp of her "baby" brother! It was SO annoying!

Joe was 18 months younger, but even at 15 he was a lot taller than his "big" sister, who was barely 5’3". And his adolescent growth spurt and gender had combined to make much stronger too, he seemed to look for more and more excuses to lord his physical superiority over her. It was so much fun! And natural for him to do it. After all, didn’t she lord over him her age, experience and verbal cleverness, not to mention her driver’s license and other privileges. And she USED to push HIM around. It was only fair that he took advantage in this area.

Michelle struggled, but it was no use. He was just too much stronger. "Oh well, you lose. I’ll let you know when I’M finished with it." He bent down and picked it up with his free hand and then let her go. She rubbed her wrist and glared at him, then stormed out of his room, slamming his door and then hers. He chuckled. "Girls get SO emotional sometimes! Must be her time of the month."

Juliet stood impatiently on the stage, her long arms crossed over her chest, her foot tapping, her eyes cast theatrically skyward. “If he can’t learn his lines, then WHAT is he DOING here?”

Bart looked helpless and stammered, “I’d l-like to know when you’re going to be —

Juliet stamped her foot loudly and put her hands on her hips, glaring at Bart. “That’s from the NEXT scene! Really Mrs. Paul. WHY do we have to put UP with this?” I TOLD you Bart couldn’t do this part. Jonathan is more suitable.”

“That’s just because ‘Jaws’ wants Jonathan to kiss her in the last scene,” Carol whispered to Emily, loud enough for all to hear in the silence.

Bart was shaking on the stage. He knew this had been a mistake. Juliet wanted Jonathan as her co-lead, and Juliet always got what she wanted, one way or the other, whether on the stage, the yearbook, the classroom, the golf course, or the 7-11. No one liked her, but that didn’t matter. They all feared her. Her wit, which could make anyone, from her parents, to her teachers, even Principal Gregg, look foolish. Her uncanny intuition of your vulnerability. Not to mention her black belt in Tae Kwan Do. And her willingness to use any and all of her weapons against you, maybe not right away, but someday, when you least expected it, when perhaps you had even forgotten that you’d crossed her. She never forgot.

He had been excited for a few minutes when he’d been chosen for the lead. All that time with Juliet. She was such a good actress, so beautiful and, so, well, sexy. Then he’d heard her loud groan behind him. He’d turned around to see her brilliant green eyes looking at the board, ignoring him completely, like he wasn’t even there.

“Bart can’t act. He has no PRESENCE. And he’s too SHORT to play opposite ME. No one would EVER believe I would give up the crown for HIM!” Then, with just the briefest of glances at him, she’d added, “I don’t think he’ll EVEN be able to learn his lines.”

He’d been determined to prove her wrong. In one week he had memorized the whole play. But somehow, whenever he shared the stage with Juliet, he never got past the first two words. She’d look at him, just as he prepared to speak, and rendered him a stuttering fool. Imagine that he, playing a handsome footman, would have the strength to seize her from her noble-born betrothed? With what will?

“I-I, um er, Jaw-Juliet’s right. I, uh, should just switch roles with Jonathan. I know his lines, uh, better than my own.”

Mrs. Paul was uncertain. “We have just three weeks to go. That’s a LOT for Jonathan to learn.” She looked over at him.

Jonathan looked back at Mrs. Paul and then at Juliet. What beautiful eyes she had. He’d heard things about her that weren’t pretty. To look at her, you’d never believe them, but then, James had tried to kill himself just after they’d broken up. Or was it just before? No one knew, since he’d changed schools soon afterwards. Jonathan’s eyes ranged down her slender bosom and her tight waist. Yeah, not that much meat on her, but she sure knew how to hold herself. He wouldn’t mind that last kissing scene with her. Not at all. Still, when would he have the time to do it? His folks were on him to get his grades up. It had been hard enough to get them to agree to let him do the small part in the play. If he told them he had the lead — no, forget it. “Well, Mrs. Paul. I do have a lot of schoolwork due next week and —

“Oh, he’ll do it. I’ll work with him every day. With MY help I’m SURE he’ll do just fine.” Juliet interrupted, looking at Jonathan sharply, her sharp features ablaze with her determination. "I just KNOW he’ll be great, and get all his work done too. WON’T you, Jonathan?”

Looking in her gaze was like being buffeted by the heat of a blast furnace. How could he say no to that passion, which seemed to fill him with energy and strength? Yes! I CAN do it! he thought.

"Yes, I CAN DO IT!!" he said.

Mrs. Paul seemed taken aback by his loud pronouncement. "Well, all right then. If you’re so sure." She glanced over at Juliet, who closed her lips in a tight, satisfied grin. That girl!

"You should rehearse without us today, Mrs. Paul. Act 1, Scenes 3-4 and Act 2, Scene 2, I think would be best. I’ll work with Jonathan. We’ll be ready with Act 1 Monday," she said, taking Jonathan’s hand and leading him out, not feeling any need to wait for an answer.

Sandy was just settling down at the two-handed curling station. At 5’7", she was the school’s best pole-vaulter and the top volleyball player, good enough for All State, and a good soccer player to boot. She leaned forward to set the weights. She noted with satisfaction that she was lifting ten pounds more than last year. It was really helping in all her sports. Just then, Frank put his hand over hers.

"Uh, uh. C’mon. Get up!"

"Hey, I wanted to use it!" Sandy exclaimed angrily. She suspected he just didn’t like seeing women use them.

And she was absolutely right.

"So?" he smirked. "You know the team has first priority."

"But you used them just this morning," she protested.

"And I’m going to use them again," he replied simply, flexing his arms and back to show off his remarkable musculature. "Don’t you think they need the work, babe?" he winked knowingly.

"Yeah, more muscle is JUST what YOU need," she grumbled to herself as she turned away, not wanting to show him how impressed she was … and more than a little jealous. It was all too typical: the boys got access whenever they wanted, and the girls were ignored. And they put on muscle so much more easily too. God, she hated that!

Pushing her aside wasn’t enough for Frank. "Hey Sandy, it’s not like it makes such a difference for you to use them anyway," he observed.

Sandy’s face burned. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded.

He laughed. "I mean, it’s not like you’re growing muscles, Sandy. I know you girls like to stay toned and all that, but, really. I lift forty pounds more now than I did at the beginning of the year. And what about you?" He looked down at the weight she had set. "If YOU lift forty pounds more, than you’d have started at less than zero," he smirked.

Sandy’s face reddened, but at the same time she had to blink away tears. Frank noticed and softened a bit. "Awww, it’s not like it’s your fault," he shrugged. "You’re a girl. No matter how hard you work out, you’ll never really bulk up. And that’s good. Muscles don’t look good on girls." But her reaction surprised him.

"That is such sexist crap," she all but shouted. "Women can train just as hard and well as men. And be just as athletic."

Two other players, Dave and Harold, had been working at other stations and visibly feigned trying to suppress their laughter.

"What?" she asked angrily, whirling around.

"Yeah, right," Harold jeered. "If you’re playing volleyball, maybe. Isn’t that your ‘sport’?" The sarcasm in his voice was palpable. "Let me know when you finish ‘training’ and can play some real sports." A wink to Dave. "We could use a water-girl for the team. But you’ll need bigger muscles to carry the water." They both laughed.

"Look," Dave laughed He walked around to Frank and her and lifted the weight bar with three fingers. "Can you believe she really was straining here."

Sandy flushed red and stalked from the room. The worst part was, there was nothing she could do. Although theoretically open to all, the weight room was considered a "football first" facility, since the funds to build the new facility had come entirely from alumni in the name of that sport. But still, it was incredibly galling, and unfair, to have them keep it so selfishly. And despite all the politically correct platitudes, there was still no question that girls’ sports were considered second best.

Evidence for that was all around them. The boys’ locker room was bigger. Their trophy case was bigger ("Only because we have better trophies," they would preen.) They got the best practice times. And most of the attention. Of course, that went all the way up to the pros. Sometimes, a woman’s sport might actually draw better than a man’s, but even when it did, she suspected it wasn’t because of the athletic quality so much as the "bonuses" such as in tennis, or more infamously, women’s beach volleyball – imagine a sport outlawing uniforms that covered "too much." If only women could compete equally in fact as well as name. Once again, she felt a mix of anger, embarrassment and helplessness at the physical inequities decreed by nature.

Sandy left the gym wing and saw the runners training on the track. There too, the men dominated, both by numbers and pace. Only Kimberly, the star of the women’s team, even tried to keep up with the first-team boys running, and even so, she always drifted slowly back through the pack. Most of the other girls trained by themselves on the rougher practice track so they wouldn’t get elbowed, or worse, ogled, slapped, pinched and tripped, by the boys that wanted to keep them in their place.

A few minutes earlier, Cecile was brushing her hair. Twice more would do. She checked her lipstick. Then she straightened her top and fluffed out her skirt. She had sat with Dave for fifteen minutes at lunch and then let him hold her between sixth and seventh periods. Practices for cheerleading and football were just an hour and a half away, but that was too long! She had a good idea where he was, and she liked him to snatch a little peek at her as often during the day as she could manage. Not to intrude, but to whet his interest. That was one romantic tip she loved to practice, because that meant she could see HIM too!

Fully prepared now, she emerged from the girls’ room and started her detour around the school. She knew she’d be a few minutes late for English, but that didn’t matter. She lingered for a few seconds past the trophy case. It would be so good to have Dave’s senior championship trophy on their mantelpiece when they had their own house! Now toward the weight room. She bet he was there! The door opened. Oooof! That Sandy almost ran her down! What was SHE doing in there again? She turned her nose in disgust. They shouldn’t let girls in the weight room. It must be so distracting for the boys. And there was such a big game this week! She looked back. There was that Sandy, looking at the trophies. Probably jealous. Well, there was no reason to worry. Look at her hair and her sweaty t-shirt. Cecile smelled her in just a second when she came out the door. What must the boys think! And that body! So boyish! Sure Sandy had breasts, but they were so small by comparison to her own and not nearly as round. She did nothing to style her hair. And she had muscles too, not real muscles like Dave had, but you could still actually SEE them. They looked so gross. She almost felt sorry for Sandy — no real muscles — like a guy’s — and no real breasts either. Well, Dave likes me the way I am, so soft and feminine and smelling that way too. Not that I’m weak or flabby. Everyone in the family was strong, although if you were smart you could keep your body from showing it. And you had to be fit for cheerleading. And Dave would hate a girl whose waist wasn’t trim, whose tits drooped or butt sagged or jiggled. But it was a matter of balance, of proportion. That’s what being a girl was all about, keeping everything in proportion and balance.

All that philosophizing was making her tired! She pushed open the door and leaned inside, letting her top pull tight against her bust. "Hi Dave!" she said brightly, watching with delight as the boys all swung their heads to look at her. Five seconds was enough, and then she left again. There! It was all a matter of balance.

Theresa stood in back of the school, looking over with some distaste at the sophomore boys playing frisbee on the field. They were so noisy. So full of themselves. She was dressed, as always, in leather. Black leather. The wrinkles clearly showed the stress marks around her bust and her hips, where her generous feminine characteristics pulled the material further than it naturally wanted to go. Michelle was sitting next to her, doing homework, and now Sandy was walking toward them, red-faced. She was early. Theresa stood up and waved. Just then Bob Gerren, a senior who was walking by, stopped short, staring at her.

"What are YOU looking at?" Theresa said frostily.

He rolled his eyes. "If you don’t know, then maybe I’ll have to come over and show you." His buddies whooped loudly. Theresa glared at him, and egged on by his friends, he stepped closer.

Theresa looked down at him, her 5’11" of natural height supplemented by three inch heels. "As if little boys like you had anything to show me! Other than the tongue hanging out of your mouth. Say ahhhhhhhhh?"

"Theresa!" Michelle muttered under her breath.

"You gonna let a junior talk to you like that?!" said one of Bob’s friends.

Bob scowled, regretting that he’d started this, but unable to stop it now. He grabbed her wrist and spun her next to him. "It’s you who’d be saying aaaaaahhh if you weren’t just a little cocktease, Theresa." Theresa’s hand whirled around to slap him, but quicker than she’d anticipated, he grabbed her other wrist, stopping her cold. "I KNEW there was a little heat in there. I bet you’d burn good once I got you started."

His honor restored, Bob let her go and rejoined his friends, who clapped him on the back as he walked away, a little awkwardly. There WAS something about that girl he liked …. But she was so stuck up!! He turned to see what Theresa was doing, but she was busy talking to her friends, towering over Michelle and even Sandy.

"What an asshole!" Sandy said. "I am so fed up with boys! This, like, happens all the time!"

"It’s like we can never win with them. And they know it. They have all the advantages," Michelle complained. "Even my brother gets away with everything now that he’s the bigger one. The world is so totally sexist. It’s like DNA and everything else just conspires against girls."

Theresa growled, trying to recover her dignity. "I know what you mean, but I don’t really think it’s sexism. I think so much sexism is really just sizism. Men are bigger, so they consider themselves better. Tall is better than short, but even though I’m tall, strong is still better than weak. No wonder we girls always doubt ourselves. We probably buy into it too. Deep down, we all think that boys are better somehow because they’re stronger. Like they deserve to be in charge. As much as I try to be otherwise around here, it’s just an act. And I’m sure the boys know it too. It’s a power game and we have less power. That’s all it is. Maybe someday things’ll change, although I can’t imagine how or why." She sighed aiming one more frosty look at Bob, who was too far away to notice. "Hey Michelle, that’s a really nice pendant. It looks Aztec or something."

"Good guess. My Aunt brought it back to me from Mexico. It’s been sitting around in my jewelry box and today I was so mad at Joe that the only way I could get myself out of the house was to wear something different. Do you really like it?"

"I do. I like the iridescence. It must be the light, but it looks very special on you. Especially with your hair."

"Thanks."

"I wish I had a pizza," Sandy said. "I skipped lunch."

"Let’s order some as soon as we get to your house. Joe always eats so much at home that I never get more than one piece." Michelle patted her hips. "Not like I really need it. You know, I think that’s what makes so many women decide to just forget about it," Michelle sighed. "There’s just nothing we can do about being bigger so we just work on being slim and cute. It’s always about denying ourselves things, instead of doing them. It’s so, you know, negative."

"Yeah, we try to get smaller, while guys are always so obsessed with their muscles and getting bigger. But that’s such a bore," Theresa complained.

"No it’s not," Sandy protested. "Exercise is really fun and it makes you feel good, and good about yourself. I know we don’t get the same results as guys do, but it’s still good for us."

"You have a point," Michelle said thoughtfully. "I really should. All the magazine articles say that too. Even if it wouldn’t make me as strong as a guy, working out more would make me feel better about myself. I really do wish I — no, not just me, that all of us women — enjoyed exercise a lot more than we do now. I think that would make a big difference. We could have more muscle power than we realize if we just exercised more and we’d probably look better too."

The stone glowed deeply but was unnoticed in the bright sunlight. All the girls felt an odd tingle or moving sensation, as though they’d changed position or something without noticing it. They ignored the apparent illusion.

"Maybe. But I still think it’s a power thing more than being attractive." Theresa said fervently. "I never get tired at looking down at guys, even if they are stronger. I just feel it puts them in their place, a little. And it always makes me feel good."

"Well, that’s not exactly an option for me," Michelle grumbled.

"I know. I’m sorry, Michelle," Theresa looked sadly at her arms. "But it doesn’t matter in the end. It’s like I said: Even if we all were taller and had more pride in ourselves, guys are still be stronger and would still act just as superior. You saw what just happened to me. You saw how much effort it took for Bob to ‘put me in my place.’ Guys don’t respect us because we’re weaker. It’s just so much easier for them to get muscles, and they start off bigger anyway."

Sandy nodded her head. "You should have seen Frank and the other linemen show off in the weight room just now. It made me so mad, even though he did look cute."

"Did he? Well, the worst thing is how SOME of them get so strong even without trying — like my brother! He really hurt me this morning and I still don’t have that CD I wanted to play for you! And don’t tell me HE’S cute." The girls all wrinkled their noses and shook their heads.

Sandy hugged her friend. "Poor Michelle. Just imagine what it would be like if things were different, if we were the ones who got a lot stronger when we exercised. I mean, with all the work I put in the gym I deserve to be stronger than the guys. Instead they just make fun of me. Oooh, it makes me so mad! I wish girls bulked up with exercise and got stronger — you know, so that our muscles really reacted to exercise and training — just like guys. No, more so! More even than those football guys do now. Lots more. And that it was guys who had to struggle to show results — ANY results. That would show THEM!"

The stone glowed even more brightly, seemingly on fire within. The glow persisted for several seconds before fading. Again, they felt a slight shifting as though from within.

"Now that would be cool," Theresa admitted, sighing. "I’d love to be able to make guys like Bob think twice about making ME mad, or better yet my asshole brothers." She got a faraway look in her eyes. "But still, not every girl works out like you, Sandy. Guys are born with more muscle, and most of them are taller. I can tell you it’s nice being tall. But I wish women were just naturally bigger and stronger than guys, and naturally more fit too. If guys had to deal with being the smaller, weaker sex from the very beginning, that would change their attitude. For sure!"

The girls laughed and slapped each other’s hands. The stone burned fiercely, then banked slowly, almost as though consuming itself. The girls were laughing at their thoughts, even as the strongest tingle yet was making them shiver with pleasure. But each thought it was just her own excitement at the silly idea. The idea that their playful fantasy could somehow be true.

"Can you imagine my brother looking up at me again?" Michelle smirked. "Like he did when I was thirteen and he was eleven!"

"Or the girls easily whipping the boys basketball team?" Sandy put in. "Hell, the football team? I’d love to wipe that smirk off Frank’s face by lifting twice as much as he could."

"I’d just love to see their faces when they found themselves having to be careful what they did or said around us, in case we might get mad at them and start beating on them. Not that we would, necessarily. But if they knew that we could. If they didn’t behave." Theresa finished, then added softly. "Well, that’s the way it should be, anyway."

"Yeah, you wish. We all wish!" Sandy said ruefully.

"Hey, there’s nothing wrong with wishing. Maybe we’ll all be millionaires by morning too," Michelle laughed. She put her hand on her pendant. "Pretend it’s a magic stone." She was surprised at how warm it felt. It must have been right in the sun. "I wish I had a billion…no, a trillion dollars. No, a google dollars" She clutched it theatrically, then feigned disappointment when nothing happened. "Darn," she said. "Guess it doesn’t work after all."

"Surprise, surprise" Sandy said, touching it. It seemed really warm from Michelle’s touch. She also looked at again. The stone now seemed oddly flat and lusterless. "Hey, what happened to all the sparkles and stuff?"

Each of the girls looked at it. The strange lighting and inner glow that had made it so remarkable seemed to have disappeared.

"Weird," Theresa admitted. "Must have had a gloss or paint that wore off."

"Just by wearing it?"

Theresa shrugged. "Maybe it was only the light."

They were interrupted by a boy riding up in a bicycle. "Pizza," he announced.

Sandy frowned. "We didn’t order any pizza." She turned to face her friends. "How much you want to bet some guy did this as a practical joke?"

The boy shrugged. "Do you want it or not? It’s already paid for, and this was the address I was given. As far as I’m concerned, it’s yours."

He handed it over, eager to finish his deliveries, and rode away.

And the girls stood silently, gazing at their unexpected windfall, and then slowly letting their eyes drift back to the stone still sitting comfortably between Michelle’s breasts.

Of course, the whole idea had been ridiculous, and the pizza had undoubtedly been just a freak coincidence (though a delicious one). Even so, they spent the next hour giggling and holding the stone in turn and making all kinds of wishes – everything from being rich and beautiful to having Brad Pitt walk to the back of the school to ask Michelle for a date. Eventually it grew cool and Michelle and Sandy went back to Sandy’s house to finish their homework together and talk late into the night. They knew better than to ask Theresa to join them.

At about the same time Sandy arrived, Cindy and Calley were on the opposite side of the frisbee game, spreading Cindy’s large denim jacket onto the ground as a blanket. Everything about Cindy was large. Even at age 14, she was nearly six feet tall. She was large boned but also, unfortunately, large-waisted as well, weighing more than two hundred ten pounds. Sitting down, her large ass took up nearly the whole blanket. Calley sat on the edge. They were an odd-looking pair; Calley stood just 4’10 and was as slender as could be, with straight hips and not even the suggestion of breasts even though she was already 15, having missed a year of school due to illness. Cindy opened her book bag and took out a bag of chocolate chip cookies, a bag of Three Musketeers bars and a Coke. She popped the top of the Coke and gulped down a third of it, then balanced it carefully on the grass next to her, putting the cookies and candybars on either side to support it, then began eating out of the bags, her hand moving from her lap, to the bag and then to her mouth every twenty seconds or so. Calley ignored it, careful only to be sure she didn’t knock over the Coke can; Cindy would get very upset if she lost any of her last can of soda.

"Isn’t he the cutest!" Cindy said in a loud whisper. Calley looked over at Joe, leaping up to snare a bad toss and nodded. "That’s the ONLY thing I like about high school. Joe!"

"He’s very good at catching them."

"But don’t you see how he’s grown over the summer? Now he’s nearly as tall as I am. You think he likes tall girls?" Cindy asked this every time the two of them saw Joe anywhere.

"I don’t know, Cin. He might."

"Oh he HAS to! But what am I gonna DO to get his attention?"

Calley looked at her friend. Cindy’s blond hair was flying, there was a wide gap between two of her shirt buttons, giving a broad peek at her bra, her shirt was halfway out of her skirt in back, the bulge from her stomach hung over the waistband in front, and her socks didn’t match. "Um, there’s a little bit of chocolate on your face, on the right side of your mouth. No, the other side. Yeah, you got it."

"Thanks Cal. You’re SUCH a good friend." She reached for Calley and mashed her face against her breast.

"What are friends for, Cin? ‘Cept I can’t breathe," she said, her voice muffled.

“Oh. I always DO that to you, don’t I? You’re just so small, Cal.” Calley gave Cindy a little apologetic smile. “That’s ok. It’s not your fault. I know you were sick. Maybe you’ll grow someday.”

“Yeah Cin. Oooh, that’s a bad throw!”

“It sure is,” Cindy said, as the frisbee rolled on its side toward the girls.

Cindy grabbed it. “I’m going to give it to Joe!” she said excitedly. She picked it up and started running toward him, bypassing three other closer boys who were expecting her to hand it to them. “No. It’s for Joe!” she said insistently, trundling along as quickly as she could, while on every part of her body something jiggled.

The boys laughed and called out, “Uh oh, Joe, here comes your girlfriend!”

When she was twenty feet away she called out happily, “Here Joe. I have it. I want to give it to YOU!”

Joe scowled. “Just throw it!” he said gruffly.

“OK,” she said brightly. She stopped, curled her arm the way she had seen him do it and spun the frisbee toward him, but it went just a few feet before turning on its side, curving and hitting the ground. “Awww! It went wrong. Stupid thing.” She went after it. Joe got to it first and bent down to pick it up, but Cindy couldn’t stop and plowed into him, knocking him over and ending up sprawled on top of him. Cindy felt momentarily embarrassed, but then the thrill of her sudden closeness to Joe overcame her. She might never have such a chance again! She put her arms around him and lowered her face to the back of his neck. Mmmmmm! He smelled so good! She was tingling all over and wanted to hug him closer.

Although not hurt, Joe was initially upset at being knocked down by this overweight girl then started having more complicated feelings as his face pressed against her floppy breast. Although he had enjoyed some furtive groping at parties and an exciting ten minutes with a girl at summer camp, whom he had just persuaded to unbutton her shirt when they were discovered by a camp counselor, he had never actually been in such close contact before with a live female breast (at least not since he was an infant) and he found it, and Cindy’s overall softness surprisingly arousing. He moved his cheek against it, feeling its weight and softness through the open part of her shirt and felt himself start to stiffen slightly. He was enjoying that, and pushing against her, slightly, when he suddenly realized, Shit! This is Cindy Barrett! Ugghh!

Meanwhile, Cindy had noticed a slight change in Joe. Was he nuzzling her breast? That was so cute! It made her feel like a real woman! And was he, like, humping her leg? Ohmygod! Just as her spirits started to rise she had an odd feeling, another kind of tingle, which quickly vanished, but Joe stopped moving while it was happening and he didn’t start again.

Just as Joe had remembered who he was rolling with an odd feeling went through him, leaving him feeling … he wasn’t sure. He looked up at Cindy’s chest and tried to push her off. Oooof! She was so heavy. And so soft, almost like there was nothing solid in her to push against! "Get off me," he shouted, although with his mouth against her shirt his voice was completely lost.

Ooooh, this wasn’t as nice, Cindy thought. He’s pushing me. It hurts! She turned her body slightly to protect her breasts and her soft belly. He was definitely trying to get her off him. Awwww, and it was feeling so nice. Well, let HIM do it. She may as well just stay on him as long as she could. Mmmm, what was that? Another funny feeling. That time it didn’t feel like it came from Joe. What was it?

Shit, the guys are going to think I’m doing this on purpose, Joe thought, feeling desperate suddenly. She’s so heavy. He maneuvered his arm against her and pushed to one side. He should be able to roll her off. Just then there was another odd feeling, almost like a draining feeling? Was he getting sick? Probably from her smell! Or maybe he just wasn’t getting enough air. Got to get her off him!!

Now he was REALLY pushing. Darn. It was never going to last. But he liked it, didn’t he? Ooooh, what was that? Another one. Never felt this way before. Uuuff. Now I’m on the dirt!

Finally! Jeez she was heavy. Joe stood up, wobbling a little, trying to catch his breath, hoping his budding hard-on wasn’t showing. He expected to see the guys gathered around, ready to mock him, but they all looked slightly lost, self-absorbed. He thought about calling them to tell them he got the frisbee, but he actually didn’t feel like calling attention to himself. Instead he looked down at Cindy. What a mess she was, shirt all out, hair messed up. Ugh! "What’d you do that for? Jesus! I wanted the frisbee, not a roll on the ground with a fat pig!" he shouted.

"But I … you –" Cindy blinked several times trying to hold back the tears and then got up and ran away, back to Calley, sobbing. "I want to go home! I want to go home now!" she cried, grabbing Calley’s arm and dragging her to her feet. They went a few steps before Calley reminded her about her jacket and snacks. Cindy sniffled and grabbed her jacket, then in a fit of rage, kicked the coke can at the boys and stomped on the cookies and candy, then went off with Cindy.

The boys watched with amusement. One started teasing Joe, but his heart wasn’t in it.

"C’mon, let’s play!" Joe called. But after a couple of throws he lost interest in chasing the disc. None of his friends wanted to play either. The mood seemed broken, so they ended the game, for now, and went home.

Theresa walked back home, getting grumpier with each step. Two blocks from her modest house she stopped in to McDonald’s. She waved hi to one of the cashiers, Cheryl Ann, a childhood friend of hers who had dropped out of school last year, and slipped into the rest room. There, she stripped off her clothes and slipped into the t-shirt and blue jeans she had put on when she’d left the house in the morning. She folded up her other clothes, packed them away then waved good-bye to Cheryl Ann, who was busy serving a line of noisy kids, and walked the last two blocks, more careful in this part of town.

As always, her three brothers were home already, in various stages of undress, drinking beer and watching beach volleyball on ESPN2. Their clothes were all over the room, as were the cans of beer, pretzel crumbs and bags. The weight set they always used while watching games was in the middle of the floor.

"Hey, Terri. You so fuckin’ late! When are we having dinner?" asked Dominic, the oldest.

She dropped her bag by the door and went to them, silently, bent over and picked up the pizza boxes and pretzel bags. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I … had a test and I had to talk to the teacher."

"What, you failed and you had to offer him a blow job to stay in school?" Alan laughed. "Give it up, Terri. It’s a waste of time for you anyway. You’re not going nowhere even if you do graduate."

"Don’t expect a prize or nothing for being the first in the family to do it," Charles added. He put his feet on Theresa’s back as she burrowed under the chair to retrieve one more pretzel bag. "Hey, stay right there! I’ve been needing to put my feet up all day!" Theresa tried to get up, but Charles tightened his legs around her chest. "Hey! I said stay there!"

Controlling herself, Theresa said, calmly, "I can’t make you dinner if you don’t let me go."

"Yeah, Charles. She got more important things to do now. She can be your footrest later."

Charles snorted, then pushed her with his feet so that she tumbled across the floor onto her back. "OK. But I’m hungry. I been working all day at the site and I don’t like waiting so long."

"I’ll put up dinner now." Theresa weighed her options carefully. More beer would keep them happy while she cooked, but it would make them rowdier later on. And money was short this month, again. She was sure her brothers weren’t putting enough in the food kitty. Of course, she’d be blamed for not shopping carefully enough, but there was nothing she could do about that, not with the amount they always ate. The only way to make it last was for her to eat less. She ought to pass that tip on to Michelle the next time she talked about dieting. Hmmph! But no, she wasn’t really mad at Michelle. It wasn’t her fault. No, she knew exactly whom to blame. And exactly how much good it did. It was a tough choice, but she’d try to get things ready quickly tonight, without the beer. She went to the kitchen. Another disaster area! But at least it was hers. She heard the door open. Her father was home too now. Most of the time he’d just settle in with the boys. If she was quick enough, no one would bother her for awhile now. She got to work on dinner. She would clean later.

Cindy pushed away the large slice of chocolate cake her mother had cut for her. Mrs. Barrett, two inches taller than her daughter but not nearly as stout pushed it back but Cindy made a face and pushed it further away.

“I don’t want it!!”

“But why, darling. Mommy made it just for you. Isn’t this your favorite?”

“Because I’m a fat pig, that’s why.”

“Did some silly boy say that? You shouldn’t listen to them! We love you as you are darling.”

”A few less pounds wouldn’t hurt,” Mr. Barrett cracked. “’Just as much love, more love per pound.” Mr. Barrett, a linesman for Penn State in college and who played two years in the pros before wrenching his knee, had kept his youthful muscle and form. He shrugged and took the rejected piece of cake. “Pity to waste it though.”

“Jim, I made that whole cake for Cindy.”

“I don’t WANT it!!!” Cindy yelled in frustration. “I hate being FAT!”

“Less candy, more exercise, less TV, more —

“Jim!! Stop pressuring her! Go do your exercise thing yourself!”

He shrugged. “Don’t feel like it tonight. Think I’ll watch the game.”

“Can I use it Daddy? If you’re not why can’t I?”

“She’ll hurt herself!!”

“I will not! Daddy!”

Jim stood up carefully. “Yeah, I guess. I’d have to show you how.”

“Jim!!”

He looked tiredly at his wife. “Shut up dear. C’mon Cindy. I’ll teach you how to lift.”

“Can I use the treadmill too?”

“All because of what some BOY SAID?” Mrs. Barrett said testily. "You know what these high school boys are like!"

Mr. Barrett glared at her. “Why not? With my knee acting up, it’s wasted on me. I’m sure a little fitness would be good for Cindy. If they get fresh, she can just push them away, right Cindy?”

Cindy smiled at her mother, barely resisting the urge to stick her tongue out, and laughed mechanically at her father’s dumb joke. She didn’t want to push anyone away. What she wanted was to kiss Joe … and kill him too. Hmmmph!! Her simple philosophy was, if it made her feel good, then it was good. Right now, without knowing why, she wanted to exercise. So now Daddy was her ally. Fine.

End of Part 1

[Lingster]

Just one chapter!?

[Anonymous]

Cool! A great start to a story, setting up some great characters and scenarios! Thanks very much, Marknew – look forward to seeing how this one develops. 😀

[Mark Newman]

More where that came from.

Mark

[Cowprobe]

Man those darn Aztecs. Leaving power relationship altering amulets around to be sold to tourists. 😉

This is beginning nicely Marknew. I like how you’ve given the girls actual reason to resent their starting situation. It’ll make any upcoming ‘changes’ a lot more interesting 😈

[Richard]

Very nice first chapter Marknew , looking forward to the next one.

[recycle456]

Mark

Looks like another good read! Looking forward to the next chapter. Thanks again for your work!

[pogo]

I already like the story. Many promissing story lines there. What will Cindy do to Joe? Shes already bigger them him 🙂

The most i like about your stories Mark is the slow shift in power that comes with the grow. And that is most of the time end up changing the world. Sometimes you stories end to quick where the reader has the feeling that is just the beginning. But since it is your style i wont complain 8)

[Author]

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