[reaper0002000]

Thanks for the suggestion… I might do that after this story is complete (but it has a little bit to go, still)

Reap

[Lupus14]

'Fraid you won't have to wait for long… and just to aggravate Lupus, I'm totally not going to explain it. At all.

I will continue to enjoy your stories and have learned for myself that it is better to shut up and not ask any more questions or make comments.

[reaper0002000]

Hey Lupus, y'know i was just needling you a little, right?
My "sorta" comment was directed at the explanation part, not the kidding portion —  hope you didn't take it the other way, though I certainly can see how it's possible. My bad (in the immortal words of Optimus Prime in the new movie). What I was trying to imply was there'll be more than a glimmer of what makes Mercy "tick", but her rationale may be as psychotic as the girl herself…

I've appreciated the feedback from all of you, and have to say that the quality of work from the other writers here has forced me to try to keep up.

Kind regards,
Reap

[reaper0002000]

…cont'd…

Mercy looked at the floor, shutting her eyes. This was the part of the dream she secretly enjoyed, disturbing and grotesque as it likely would be to others. “I break him,” she smiled chillingly, eyes still closed. "All over. His spine, his legs and arms – with my bare hands, I snap his bones like toothpicks. The dream’s so vivid that I can actually feel how weak and brittle his bones are as they pop against my pumped-up body. I’m so much younger than him, but my muscles are just so much bigger and harder. And so, so strong.“

Her beautiful, smiling face was dreamy, bizarrely juxtaposed against the carnage she described. “But I don’t stop there. I even tear apart his ribcage, and I can see all his organs. I grab his heart with one hand, and rip it right out. Blood bursts out everywhere. It’s still beating, until I crush it to mush between my fingers.” Mercy’s voice rose, her grin still showing. All the hair on the back of the therapist’s neck was standing, and he’s shifted uncomfortably in his seat as his outlandishly muscled young client continued, eyes closed, oblivious to his fearful discomfort.

“Then I pull his entire body apart into dozens of separate pieces, limb from limb, rip off his head, his internal organs. I totally dismember him, and it’s so easy with all my muscles…” Close-eyed, Mercy spoke with a relish that was not only disconcerting, but utterly terrifying.

“I remember what I’m thinking – I’m only a 10 year-old girl, but I’ve literally broken and torn a boy twice my age into pieces with my bare hands. I flex my muscles in superiority, and I see myself in the mirror. At first, I’m still only ten, but then my reflection changes, and I’m seeing myself as I am today… There’s still all this gore and blood everywhere, but my reflection looks so powerful – I'm naked and I've got so much beautiful, sexy muscle! Pecs, biceps, lats, abs, legs all exploding with strength! I’m SO strong I can tear a man to death. And it turns me on, making me jack like you wouldn’t believe. That’s where I usually wake up. Wet with jack.” Mercy finally opened her eyes, and looked up, blinking. She sighed a little; as she halfway expected, the therapist looked like he’s having a heart attack, or a stroke.

He just stared at her. His jaw slack, his face sheet white. Unlike what Mercy thought, it wasn’t just the shockingly gory and sexual nature of her dream. He had no idea how the male gymnast had died, as he didn’t recall what the newspaper had disclosed all those years ago. But dear God, the dream was so close to what the report said. Apart from the sexuality in the dream, the similarity was inescapable: Gory, wanton dismemberment.

He didn’t want to think it was even possible that anyone could be so vicious. He was absolutely stunned by her account, and even more so by how Mercy seemed to savor her slaughter, even in its retelling. It was like a door had cracked opened into her inner life, and its darkness was utterly foreboding.  There was a discernible shift in Mercy’s presence, one that he’d only glimpsed when she stopped his slap, but that sense of mind-numbing, malevolent power was unmistakable. The psychologist tried to gather himself, but still found no way to respond.

…to be cont'd…

[iceman75]

Nice addition to the story, my friend, while I do like Mercy's strength a lot, I would have liked to see her do more in terms of lifting weights before ripping a male apart with her bare hands, but it was great, seeing her at 10 tear a guy limb from limb with ease. I wonder what else she could have done with her immense strength at 10 years old?

[Mermoz]

Very nice writting, but the "sexual" or so content from a 10 y.o. girl (even if she's actually an adult dreaming if it) is perhaps against the law…Perhaps it's more easy if she's over 18?
Anyhow thank you for your text.

[reaper0002000]

Thanks for the compliment! While writing about a fictional 10 year-old's sexuality is probably not illegal, I would say it's completely inappropriate… which is why I wrote:

At first, I’m still only ten, but then my reflection changes, and I’m seeing myself as I am today… There’s still all this gore and blood everywhere, but my reflection looks so powerful – I'm naked and I've got so much beautiful, sexy muscle!

to ensure that it was the college-aged Mercy having the sexual experience in her dream.

Out of curiosity, did anyone beside Mermoz not pick up on that? If there was, I'll have to make this much more clear…

Regards,
Reap

[stmercy2020]

Okay.  I haven't had the opportunity to weigh in on this because of moving and family obligations (I will be completely incommunicado as of tomorrow and lasting about a week- hopefully slightly less, but it'll all depend on the phone company where I'm going).  First off, as reaper stated, writing about the sexuality of a 10-year-old, especially a fictional 10-year-old, is not illegal in any state in the U.S. that I am aware of.  Child pornography laws seek to prevent the exploitation of actual children.  It is, generally, considered to be in poor taste, however, to write about child sexuality unless it is being used specifically to demonstrate a plot point- and generally, the only plot point that would be considered acceptable by the average reader is that sexually charged situations involving children are bad.

I didn't have any problems with the scene as reaper wrote it for two reasons.  1) this scene is not portrayed in a positive light.  It is presented as gory, bloody, and horrible.  Mercy is presented as fundamentally disturbed.  2) reaper made it quite clear in the scene that Mercy's perception of herself changes and becomes sexually charged only after she sees her dream-persona as a young woman, no longer a child.

All in all, great writing.  Gross, as a friend of mine once said, but cool.  I'm still of mixed minds about Mercy- she seems like a character who wants to be accepted, good, etc. al., but, at the same time, she's a monster who revels in her destructive power, her ability to unleash her fury with cataclysmic results.  A darkly fascinating character.

[reaper0002000]

What he said. [pointing at StMercy]
…

Thanks for the support, my friend, and good luck with your move!

My concern here is that if one reader missed it, then others surely did so as well. I should have really emphasized the change in Mercy's dream from from child to adult with more than a few words. Live and learn, huh?

Best wishes,
Reap

[reaper0002000]

…cont'd…

As the man opposite her made attempts to pull himself together, Mercy lamely added “It’s only a dream, I guess.” She awkwardly fidgeted a bit, and caused several seams to audibly tear under the bulges of her hardened bronzed brawn. The young beauty ignored the sound, and considered what the therapist had said earlier about dreams. Mercy pursed her lips, saying “In a way, I guess I have dealt with being molested. I think that’s why I now love building my body even more.” The psychologist eyebrows’ lifted at the remark.

She paused for a moment, and seeing she hadn’t made herself clear, tried to spell it out. “Because it makes me so strong. Strong enough to deal with ANY man who thinks muscles are sexy.” She thought that this conclusion, which she felt was insightful, might somehow spur the doctor back from wherever the hell he was to the here and now. But he still looked stunned. Absently, the powerful girl watched him take a deep, shuddering breath, visibly focusing on what she had just announced. Mercy cocked her head, waiting.

“That doesn’t make sense,” the therapist finally offered, objecting to the obvious fallacy in her logic. Mercy was so intelligent, he couldn’t believe she wouldn’t see it a mile away. “If you thought that muscles made you sexy, and you didn’t want the attention, you’d stop building your body. Not add to it.”

Mercy sighed, the side of her perfect mouth curling. “Doctor, my muscles… they're a given. A constant that can’t be taken away.” Seeing that she still didn’t make sense to him, the gorgeous young brute explained, “I can’t NOT be muscular. Like I told you earlier, I was born this way. It was written in my genes, and I’ve done as much research as I can to reverse it, but there’s no way I can see to go any further. Even gene therapy isn’t going to work on me.” She looked at him with a tinge of impatience, her blue eyes reading him – hadn’t he been listening earlier to everything she said about the projects she was involved in? She had talked about it in substantial detail.

Seeing that the man gave no response to her conclusion, Mercy licked her thin lips, and repeated herself for emphasis. “I’m always going to have muscles. It took a long time for me to accept it, but now I actually love my muscles again,” she said, and glanced down at her own massive, chiseled chest. A mere, slight tensing and both giant breastless slabs seemed to leap full inches. Mercy’s vest cracked, the material barely containing her unholy brawn. In fact, her shredded pectoral separations were clearly visible through the cloth, and her small areola were now fully outlined to the extent that the tiny tips of her nipples were actually exposed, pushing through the fabric. Just as the man thought that she was going to literally explode straight out of her clothing, Mercy relaxed, and her mighty chest receded, but only slightly.

She smiled at her awesome physical power. “Since I’m not going to be able to change, it’s not up to me anymore. The problem is men and their urges, it’s up to them. And men don't change — they all want the same thing. So to deal with whoever finds me sexy, I’m going to build even more strength and more muscle, more muscle than anyone can ever handle.” Mercy regarded him closely, and breathed out quietly. “Men will want me. And they will pay.” Her usually melodic voice was pointedly neutral, but there was a latent venom in those words… As he thought about that last statement with a shudder, he realized that the silence between them was again lengthening, and Mercy was regarding him quizzically. He swallowed nervously.

“Ultimately, I don’t think that muscles have anything inherent do with being sexy,” he told her, almost for lack of anything better to say. Still trying to make sense of all that had been explored, he went on, thinking things through as he talked. “It’s all in our heads, what makes someone sexual to someone else. For example, a lot of people don’t find girls with big muscles at all sexy. In fact, the effect is quite the opposite, I would say that it’s not attractive at all.”

Mercy opened her mouth, and then shut it again. She looked like she was about to make a rebuttal, but instead fell silent. She frowned, appearing upset and perhaps a little angry, but said nothing. Several full seconds passed. The hypermuscular girl continued to just sit on the couch, her smooth forehead furrowed in thought. Pondering his statement far more than he would have anticipated, Mercy pushed an errant strand of her brown hair back behind a broad shoulder with an absentminded flick of her wrist.

The therapist couldn’t help but flinch at the sight.

Just that simple, careless motion had orchestrated a rippling symphony in Mercy’s obscene, frightening muscularity. The coiling of her bare arm had made the huge, heavy bicep gather itself into an incredibly large, jutting mass, which the twisting of her wrist then further made explode into freakishly high, jagged steel peaks over the hanging bulk of her sculpted triceps. One enormous lat flared out, almost tearing through the armhole of her vest as it expanded under her arm. Her vein-strewn forearm had become a den of writhing snakes as she absently played with the ends of her hair, before tossing it back. As a result, her thick, sloping traps and bulging deltoids were also now exposed, the material of her sleeveless top clinging to a hulking ridge of ripped sinew that ended at a thick cap of brawn which showed chiseled vertical separations even when fully at rest. Her muscles were simply mindboggling. Without even trying, Mercy exuded unreal physical strength.

A drop of sweat fell from him as he tore his eyes away from the sight of her ungodly, casually mighty arm, trying to suppress the thoughts of what Mercy could do – what she had maybe done as a mere 10 year-old – with her incredible physique. With muscles like that, it actually wasn’t that difficult to imagine what she dreamed about being mortifyingly real. Not to mention that equally horrific and graphic report, descriptions of her vicious fearsome strength that he had read and prematurely dismissed as certain exaggeration.

…to be cont'd…

[Author]

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