[Mark Newman]

To: Marilyn Knewsome (marknew742@gmail.com)

From: Arnold Baum

Dear Marilyn:

It was really nice of you to offer to answer questions we have. This whole time is very confusing.

What Harold said in class really captured my feelings too. I HATE my body now. I hate looking at it. My sport is tennis and I used to have so much fun playing. Now my game really stinks, and none of my friends seem to want to play anymore. It’s weird, but exercise just doesn’t feel good now. What am I supposed to do? Just watch TV or play video games? The truth is, seeing the way guys USED to look just makes me even more depressed, because I feel I’ll never have muscles again.

TO: Arnold

From: Marilyn Knewsome (marknew742@gmail.com)

Dear Arnold:

I completely understand your feelings. It’s not your fault. Research has already shown that there is a chemical reason why you and other boys are not enjoying athletics as much now, even apart from your relative lack of prowess. It seems that male bodies are producing a lot less of the endorphins than they used to. This means that the biological basis for the "feel good" factor boys and girls would get from exercise has been substantially reduced for boys. Paradoxically, female bodies are producing much higher levels of endorphins, giving them an even greater incentive to exercise their bodies. I know this seems unfair, but this is a fact.

What you do with this fact is up to you. Exercise is STILL healthy for boys, and even if you do not get the same physical satisfaction out of it, intellectually you should know that your body will still benefit from keeping in shape. And even though your muscles are smaller now, and you can’t hit a tennis ball as hard or as fast as you used to, the game still brings a lot of challenges to it, both physical AND mental. You will have to get used to playing differently, but once you do you will still find the game enjoyable. And given the fact and more and more girls are playing sports, you will find it a good way to stay active socially.

The issues you raise about body image are difficult. We all have mental pictures of ideal body images. These are unrealistic in the best of times. For boys now, who may hold on to the images of the way they SHOULD look based on the "pre-change" male body, they are impossible. There is no easy solution to this. Time will help. But you must recognize that these ideals were almost never achievable anyway. All I can say is you must be realistic. For some boys this may be a serious problem. Some boys will feel they are so small, so "unmasculine", that they will withdraw completely from social intercourse. These boys will need real psychological help to get themselves over the transition. Hopefully you are not one of them, or if you are, that you will seek help. But remember, a masculine body is a body that boys have, and now, there is nothing unmasculine about being smaller and weaker. It is an unpleasant thought for you I know. But there is nothing unmanly about your body.

Best of luck!

Marilyn

[Mark Newman]

To: Marilyn Knewsome (marknew742@gmail.com)

From: Carol McKenzie <CMac>

Dear Marilyn:

I usually don’t like to talk in class but when you said we could email you with questions, well, I have one. It was too embarrassing to talk about in class.

My boyfriend is a senior. We’ve been going out together for three months. Now that the changes happened, well, everything has changed between us. He used to be very aggressive with me. Sometimes too aggressive, you know, but I didn’t really mind. He never went TOO far and he’s a very good kisser. But now he never makes the first move, and when I try to do something he acts like I’m oversexed, or being too pushy. What should I do? Do you think this is the way ALL boys are going to be from now on?

To: CMac

From: Marilyn Knewsome (marknew742@gmail.com)

Dear Carol:

No I don’t think that’s the way boys are going to be from now on. But I do think that it will take awhile for boys to adjust to being the smaller ones and to learn how to be sexually aggressive in a new way.

Before the changes, boys did not have to differentiate between being aggressive in a sexual way and being aggressive physically. In each case, they saw themselves as imposing themselves on others, usually someone weaker than they are. (Think about it: how often do you see a weaker boy initiate a fight with a stronger one?) I’m not saying that taking the sexual initiative is a form of bullying. But making the first move does have risks. Think about it from the boy’s side. What if his move is unwanted? It’s a lot safer to try it with someone smaller and weaker than someone who can knock you out with one punch.

Before the changes, it took a while for adolescent boys to mature and learn how to initiate things with a girl sexually in a way that was appropriate to a girl’s feelings and didn’t intimidate her. Now girls will have to learn the same kinds of skills, while boys will have to develop the confidence that they can approach a girl in a subtle way that doesn’t offend her (or endanger him).

I’m sorry that you didn’t feel able to talk in class, but I’m glad you took advantage of my offer. Best of luck!

Marilyn

[Mark Newman]

All in good fun, of course. I’m always going off course in my stories. This whole genre is off course. One of the things that makes it fun.

Not to mention the pure eroticism of well-muscled females robbing us of the power that was rightfully ours — until you stepped into MY universe.

[Mark Newman]

You have to follow your inspiration off course.

Thanks. I hope I won’t take things too far off course. 😉

I thought the girls overloaded the pendant by wishing for pizzas.

Naaah, that was just the warm-up. It was Theresa’s wish that women were "just naturally bigger and stronger than guys" that wore it out until Tuesday night.

I was actually hoping the pendant would be left alone. I just think it’s too much fun reading about the changes that have gone through, to want to see it change over and over again.

I agree. It would be tiresome if things keep changing. I don’t intend to make this story just like alt.univ. The focus is on the people, not the pendant. But then the characters’ attitude toward the changes and, for those who know, toward the pendant is part of their reaction to what’s happening to them. I’ve tried to keep the right balance in the next parts and I’m sure you’ll let me know if I don’t succeed.

[Mark Newman]

Very enjoyable. I look forward to more as well.

Thanks for contributing.

Mark

[Mark Newman]

Looks as though I hit a limit and the posting of the first part ended before it should have. Here’s the rest of Wedneday until Lunch.

"I wasn’t finished," Mark said. "I just said that as an introduction. My point was, even as a fantasy, this whole thing feels … weird." He held out his thin arms. "I keep saying to myself, ‘This isn’t me. These can’t be my arms.’ But they are. I can’t really believe it."

"So, you’re saying that even though this fulfils a fantasy you have, it still isn’t the way you see yourself."

"Uh-huh."

Kimberly raised her hand. "I don’t get it. He’s saying, for some reason, that he fantasizes about girls being really strong, stronger than boys, like we are now, but now that it’s happened he doesn’t like it. Oh, I’m Kimberly. I’m sorry, but that just doesn’t make any sense."

"I’m saying that I never wanted to be a weakling!" Mark protested. "I just like, uh —

"Thinking about it while you jerk off?" Celia said, laughing. She leaned back in her seat, puffing out her chest and flexing again. "Well, THIS will give you something to think about, I bet." Mark’s face turned deep red, but he still looked at Celia in rapt amazement.

"That isn’t the kind of contribution I’m looking for, Celia. Now, it does make sense, Kimberly. It’s not unusual to have a fantasy and to keep it compartmentalized from daily life. Many adults have secret fantasies. Women may even have rape fantasies, for example, without wanting to be actually raped. Usually a fantasy includes an element of control of the situation, which is not the case here." At this, Martin shot Michelle a look. "Well, thanks for your contribution, Mark."

"Well I DEFINITELY am not seeing myself this way," said Harold. "Suddenly I’m a flabby black boy with a beer belly, and I don’t even drink beer. I can hardly stand to get out of bed in the morning looking like this," he said glumly. "I’m supposed to be a football player. How am I going to go to college now? I’m just a shrimp. A weakling, like Mark says. I want somebody to give me some reasons why I shouldn’t end it all as soon as I get home. I mean, what am I supposed to do?"

"Your name is –"

"Harold. Harold Simmons."

"Thank you, Harold. That’s a very difficult problem you have, a terrible problem. It’s not just a matter of self-image you’re talking about, although that’s part of it too. Your career plans, your college plans, your daily life cannot continue as they have. Somehow you have to come up with a new plan, and it won’t be easy. I hope no one underestimates how hard this adjustment is for the boys, and for some, who relied heavily on their physical prowess, it is even harder than for most."

Kimberly looked sympathetically at Harold. "That IS tough Harold. Well, maybe you can play other sports?"

Harold scowled. "With this body? And even if I manage to get it into shape, what are schools going to do about sports programs for boys? All the money, all the attention is just going to go to girls now, like you and Sandy."

Sandy looked down at her desk. Kimberly replied, "I know that seems unfair, but the other side of it, you know, is that Sandy and I never had those opportunities. Maybe now we will. I’m sorry for you, but you have to admit that you’re just having to deal with what we’ve always had to do. I mean, no matter how good we were in sports, with just a few exceptions we’d never be able to make a living out it. Now we might be."

"Oh, I’m really happy for you," Harold said sarcastically.

"Yeah, well I’m not gloating, Harold, but, you know …." Kimberly said.

"There are probably a lot of sport-related things you could do, even if you can’t play well anymore. Maybe you could be a coach," Cecile suggested. "Or a scorekeeper? Or a cheerleader?"

There was an uncomfortable silence…. Marilyn spoke up. "This is very good. You’re all doing very well expressing yourselves. Identity, you know, is a fluid thing. We get our identity from the way we look, the way we think, what we do, how others look at us. Whenever any of these changes, and they do change frequently throughout our lives, we’re challenged to rethink our sense of ourselves. I want to turn now to the second statement to explore another side of identity. ‘Now that this has happened, I’m not a real girl/boy anymore.’ Who has some thoughts about this? Cecile, would you like to add more to what you said before?"

Cecile shrugged. "I don’t know. Um, my first reaction, you know, was that I wasn’t a real girl anymore. Not with these big muscles that kept growing, whatever I did. And not with being so much bigger than my boyfriend."

"And now?"

"Well, I guess it still doesn’t feel very, you know, feminine. But like I said before, my boyfriend still likes me, so maybe it’s ok."

"Maybe your boyfriend is a little confused — like Mark here," Jacob smirked. He looked around. "I’m Jacob," he announced.

"So, Jacob, does that remark mean you don’t feel like a real boy anymore?" Marilyn asked.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Isn’t that obvious? ‘Cause I’ve got muscles like a girl! Because girls like Celia there can beat me up. Easily. That’s why." He glared at Celia, who shot back a look of complete indifference.

Marilyn noticed the tension between them and decided not to pursue it, at least not now. She looked around the room to move the discussion elsewhere. "I see. Juliet. Do you have an opinion about this?"

Juliet shrugged. This topic didn’t interest her. "I don’t think having muscles or height should have anything to do with feeling like a girl, or a boy. So I disagree. Strongly."

"But height and muscle ARE secondary sex characteristics," Marilyn replied.

"Yes. Secondary," Juliet repeated, with emphasis. "I’ve always been taller and stronger than most girls, and even some boys. I don’t feel any less feminine because of that. I’m also pretty aggressive. Is that supposed to make me feel less like a girl? You’re tall and athletic. Does that make you less of a girl?"

"No, but we are talking about feelings here, Juliet, not facts," she said, trying to speak gently. "We are all individuals, with our own reactions. Jacob’s feelings aren’t wrong, nor are yours, mine or Cecile’s. You may have a different sense of what being feminine means than Cecile, but they are both proper subjects for our discussion."

"I suppose. But to me it’s irrelevant. The whole situation is pretty simple. I used to be a strong woman. Now I’m even stronger. I can’t see anything bad about that. And from the perspective of the boys, well, there’s nothing good about being weak. They can either build themselves up again or, if they can’t, then they’ll just have to live with it. They’ll have to adapt. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is."

"Adapt is a good word. How have you all ‘adapted’ so far to the changes? Or what have you seen other people do that makes sense?"

"Theresa. Well, I’d say my brothers sure have adapted. They used to make me serve them. And they would beat ME up whatever I did. Now the tables are turned. Completely. And I’d say they’re adapting VERY well," she said, pleased with her contribution.

"So, what are you saying? That boys have to be subservient to girls now? Their slaves?" Martin said angrily. "Just because all of a sudden girls have these fucking big muscles."

Theresa laughed. "YOU don’t have be, Martin. It’s not up to me. I’m just saying it worked for my brothers. And, to be honest, I think a lot of guys will find it’s their only option."

"So, that’s what you girls wanted?" Martin asked.

Several replied at the same time.

"Of course not, Martin!" Michelle said.

"Well …." purred Theresa.

"Hey, why not?" said Sandy. "Guys could learn a bit of humility and how to please, instead of being so pushy and arrogant."

"Sounds good to me," said Celia.

"Well, this isn’t exactly what I was talking about," said Marilyn. "Think about the little customs and patterns society developed in the past to deal with the differences between men and women. Rules about boys not hitting girls. Rules of courtesy."

"Rules that were broken all the time. At least in MY house!" Theresa said hotly. "Fucking big muscles are a lot more useful than your little customs!"

"That’s a fair comment, Theresa. And I of course don’t know the specifics of your situation. But most of you don’t live in such a difficult environment. Most of us are a bit lost in finding new ways to relate to each other that reflect the changes in our bodies. We don’t know the new rules. No one does. And while force and muscle can be one way to set rules, in a civilized society they hopefully will not be the final word."

"I’m Michelle. What about places like we were talking about in our last class? Like Saudi Arabia. Women are like slaves there, or at least they were, right? I don’t exactly know what’s going on there now. Are you saying those places aren’t civilized?"

"Hmmmm. I do have an opinion on that, of course, but I’ll leave that for your history class, or some other one. I’m talking about the way we live here. In this town. My point is just that what has happened to us was beyond our control. What is within our control is how we react. Some people react by taking advantage, using their new muscle to force others to give them what they want. Some who have lost power may react by hiding in fear, withdrawing from confrontations they are bound to lose. Neither is a healthy response, not in our society. We have to find ways to adapt, new ways to behave. We have to accept what is beyond our control. But not everything is beyond our control."

"A lot less than you think!" Martin muttered.

Michelle turned to him in horror.

"What was that, Martin?" Marilyn said.

"Oh, nothing. Some people here know what I mean," he said.

Michelle turned deep red.

Everyone noticed.

Marilyn cleared her throat. "Well, I certainly don’t. Unless you want to clarify that, Martin, I want to move back to the point about adapting, just briefly before we have to break for lunch." She looked at him and Michelle and when they didn’t respond, she went on, "Can anyone think of some positive adaptive behaviors that you can adopt?"

"Like girls opening doors for guys? Or carrying things when they’re too heavy?" Cecile suggested.

"Possibly. Any others?"

"I still think guys have to learn to consider more what girls want. Most of the times you guys just do what you want and assume the girls are going to go along." Kimberly said.

"What, because you’ll beat us up if we get it wrong?" Jacob said.

"No. But, the fact is, well, Celia and Theresa have a point. Even when guys don’t, I mean didn’t, directly use their strength to make us do stuff, we always knew they could. So you kind of had to learn how to keep them happy. Since we DON’T have to do that anymore, and they, at least in the back of their minds, are going to have to. It’s just going to happen. So I guess they are going have to be more intuitive about what girls are thinking and feeling. That’s an adaptive behavior, right?"

Marilyn nodded. "It probably is."

Sandy spoke up. "Well, I feel bad for Harold too, but guys are going to have to find things to do other than sports. Or at least male sports are going to be a lot less important. And we girls are probably going to have a lot more opportunities that way."

"Absolutely!" Kimberly agreed. "Exercising, working out is so much more fun for me now. I can’t explain it, but when I start running I get this exhilarating feeling right away. That’s going to make me work out even more and get even stronger and in better shape." Several of the girls were nodding in agreement. "Yeah. So I think that girls are going to end up much stronger than boys EVER were, and the differences between male and female sports will be much more than they ever were before. I run every morning, and the number of boys going out is going down every day. This morning there were just two of them. Maybe what’s happening to them is the exact opposite of what happened to us, and they get no pleasure at all from working out. If that’s right, I bet boys will get totally discouraged and drop sports completely and end up even weaker. So we can’t assume males and females will just switch roles. It’ll be even more extreme than before, with girls just getting so much stronger than guys."

Mark was looking at Theresa and at Sandy and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He put his hands in his pockets.

"That’s all just your speculation," Harold said. "You don’t know that."

"Maybe," Sandy said. "How much time have YOU spent working out this week?"

"I can’t. The training room’s been locked."

"And that’s the ONLY reason?" she said, goading him. "Already I can lift more than you and Frank ever did. And it’s been just six days since –"

She stopped abruptly.

"Since what?" Jacob said.

"Since, uh, since I started feeling different," Sandy said, with less enthusiasm. She looked quickly at Michelle and Theresa and then down at her desk.

"These girls act like they know something," said Jacob. "What’s going on here? Some kind of female conspiracy?" He looked at Michelle, then Sandy and Celia and back at Marilyn. "What aren’t you telling us?"

"There’s no conspiracy, Jacob! Of course there isn’t," Marilyn declared. "I can understand why you boys feel angry about what happened, but there’s no reason to think the girls caused these changes. How would they?" The room was silent. "At times like these, many people do want to find someone to blame. But honestly, boys, how could anyone here in this room be responsible for something that happened all over the world? It’s not logical."

"Yeah, it would have to be, like, magic." Martin said sarcastically. Michelle first glared at him, then her eyes softened into a pleading look. He grimaced and turned away from her.

The bell rang. "Right. I think we’re exposing some real concerns here. We should continue this discussion when we come back. Right now I have to run, but please, everyone, let’s start right at one-thirty. This is an issue of keen interest to many of you." Marilyn packed up her papers and dashed out. Juliet tried to catch her, but could not get by the crowd of students that filled the hall.

Still in the classroom, Michelle took Martin’s arm. "Why are you DOING this?"

He looked up at her and didn’t answer, then turned his head, looking straight into her chest. "You’re hurting me," he said, quietly and firmly. Sandy and Theresa came by. "What? Are you all going to threaten me?" he said more loudly. "Like Celia does?"

"If Michelle told you something, you’re being really stupid, you know, for saying anything," Theresa said. "There’s nothing you can do about it now. It’s not going to make any difference."

"Let me go!" he said more loudly. Michelle, shocked by his tone, released his arm and watched helplessly as he walked away angrily.

"You’ve got to get him to shut up. He’s being a real jerk, Michelle," Sandy whispered.

"What I am supposed to do? He has a point, you know. We had no right —

"Ssshh. Not here," Theresa said, looking around the classroom, which was not yet empty. "Let’s go outside." Michelle went out the door, wanting to go to find Martin, but reluctantly went with her friends.

From opposite corners of the room, both Mark and Celia had watched Martin and the three girls, Mark’s eyes rarely moving from Sandy’s muscular body. Now that she left, Mark looked over at Celia, but, noticing that she was watching him, he looked away and packed up his books. Celia walked up to him quickly and stood in front of him. "Wait," she said.

"Yeah?"

"You know who I am? I’m Celia."

"I know." He looked her up and down a bit nervously. "You’re, uh, the new bully around here?"

"I can be," she said, standing closer to him, her breasts just beneath the level of his head. She leaned against the wall, stretching her arm to let her tight sleeve pull higher to show more of her biceps and watched his eyes dart toward them. "But I don’t have to be. Not all the time. You said you dream about girls getting muscular. Was that, like, a daydream or a nightmare?" She tensed her arm slowly.

He looked away. "Um, well —

"Come on, Mark. I think it’s cute. I think YOU’RE cute." She touched his chin, gently moving his head back towards her, keeping her biceps flexed. "I’m sure you’ve never felt a girl’s biceps. Certainly not muscles like these."

"Well, no. Of course not. I mean no girl’s ever had biceps," he looked down at the bulging muscle just beneath his chin and swallowed, "like those."

Celia took his hand and placed them on top of her biceps and pumped them a few times. "I guess not." Mark squeezed them as Celia tightened her muscles as much as she could. "They’re hard, aren’t they?"

"Like a rock," he said admiringly. He looked up at her eyes.

"Do you want to have lunch together?" she asked.

"Uh, sure," he said.

They walked out together, Mark moving somewhat stiffly. "You have a hard on!" she said in his ear. "Because of me?"

He exhaled nervously. "Yeah, because of you," he replied. She moved closer, her swaying hips pushing against his waist as they walked. They sat next to each other at the end of the lunch room, no one paying any attention to either of them.

"Do you think I’m really bad, for what I supposedly did to Harold and Jacob?" Celia asked.

Mark laughed nervously. "Supposedly? Uh, pretty bad. I don’t think I’d want to be caught around with you if you did anything like that to me."

"Oh I wouldn’t," she said quickly. "I was just playing around with them. I have sort of a history with them, and some other kids at this school. You don’t know about it, being new here. Nothing serious though."

"Oh. Really. I guess I can see that. I’ve never been one place for that long. My Dad makes us move every couple of years."

"That’s too bad."

"In a way. But I like seeing different places. It’s just hard in the beginning. Having to figure out what’s going on. What people are like."

"Yeah. But then you can also be a different person when you start someplace new. You’re not, like, stuck with a reputation."

"That’s true. I never really thought about it that way. But what’s strange — now — is no one here knows me the way I looked before. I wasn’t always this, you know, scrawny. Really."

"Oh, I’m sure," she said, looking at him closely. "It’s hard to imagine though, looking at you now." She touched his arm and squeezed his small, soft biceps.

"Hey, easy!" he said as she continued amusing herself pushing his flesh around between her fingers. "So, uh, you seem like you really like having muscles, don’t you?"

"Oh yeah. I love ’em. I want to make them as big and hard as I can." She laughed and spread her legs to touch his. "So, does that turn you on, thinking about that?"

"Um, well, yes. A lot, if you really want to know." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Do you think that’s weird?"

"I don’t know. Maybe. Kind of a nice weird I think. Given what’s happened, it’s good you can enjoy it."

"Yeah. Nice weird. That’s OK. I guess." He took a few bites of food and watched her biceps jump each time she lifted her fork to her mouth. "So, do you think at all about what happened to everyone? I mean, why it happened?"

She reached over and took Mark’s hand, playing with his fingers. They were so small. His being so small made her feel in charge, like he was completely helpless in her hands. And anyway he seemed like he was completely mesmerized with her muscles. Even without using her strength, she could probably get him to do anything she wanted if she played it the right way. And she’d always have the strength to use if she wanted to. "I read some stuff on the ‘net on some site called Femme Volcana. Really mystical and strange. I don’t know if I believe it. I guess I don’t. The site was getting all sorts of traffic on Saturday. But now it’s gone. I don’t know what happened to it. Maybe something mystical."

"You think? You have to give me her web address. Or I could google it. Maybe she just exceeded her bandwidth. I’ve been looking at a lot of sites too. There’s, like, an internet site where guys talk about this kind of stuff all the time. Some was about real muscle girls and some of it just imaginary, I mean, you know, fantasies and things. But now that this is happening they’ve all gone completely crazy, speculating about magic and aliens and things being the cause of it. It’s almost impossible to keep up with all of it there’s so many posts."

"I bet. But they’re all guessing, right? I mean, you haven’t read anything that really makes sense, have you?"

"No. It’s really the same stuff these guys always talk about. I’ve, uh, looked at these sites before."

"It would be nice to know how it happened, for real, wouldn’t it." Mark nodded. "Wasn’t that really weird in class? Right at the end, with Martin and Michelle? Like they knew something."

"Uh huh. I noticed that too. But it would be too strange. Who are they? Why should they know anything?"

"I don’t know. But I know when people are acting like they have something to hide. Michelle’s not good at hiding anything. She’s not very smart you know."

"I got that feeling."

"And Martin’s really pissed about something. I bet if you talked to him, you could find out what he knows."

"Why would he tell me anything? He doesn’t know me."

"Oh, he would. He doesn’t have any real friends, except for Michelle, and he’s mad at her. So if you talked to him and you were smart about it, you could probably find out something. But you’d have to do it soon, before they made up."

"That sounds kind of sneaky."

"No it’s not. It’s — shit!"

Mel and Beth and four other girls had walked up to Celia and Mark and now surrounded them. "Hey, Seal, I thought you were going to be one of us, now. We all eat together every day, and if you’re in, then you eat with us too. This is Sheree, Jill, Billie and Bonnie. They’re all in. So who’s this little bozo? Your boyfriend?"

Mark looked up at the hulking girls and started to get up. "Um, if I’m interrupting something —

Mel pushed him back down. "I wasn’t talking to you, shrimp. Seal, you can do MUCH better than this guy. Who is he anyway? I never seen him before."

This was just what Celia didn’t want. "His name’s Mark. Listen, about that thing. I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s not such a great idea."

"What?! After I told everybody? You said you wanted to be one of us."

"No I didn’t. I said —

"I DON’T like being messed around. Listen. That exercise thing you showed us really worked, and we’re gonna to do it. We’ll be unstoppable, untouchable. So, just because I’m nice, I’m gonna to give you another chance. But if you don’t do what you said — well, you just see. And Mark here will see too." Mel flexed her biceps. "Pretty good, huh? Just you wait to see how big I’M gonna get, sister. Then you’re gonna wish you were one of us. Come on, girls. Let’s let Seal here discuss it with her boyfriend."

One of the girls reached under Mark’s bottom and pinched him and they all left, laughing.

"Fuck! What’s THAT about, Celia?" Mark said, frightened. He moved a few inches away.

"It’s bullshit. Damnit! Celia pounded the table. "I said something stupid to those girls. We were all in the Principal’s office, ok? I was a little … scared of them, ok? We were just talking, I mean — Shit! Listen, you have to help me."

"Help you? What can I do? The smallest of those five could take me easily, and who knows what they’d be like if they keep working out —

Celia put her hand on Mark’s arm to stop him. "I’m not asking you to fight them. If Martin knows what’s going on, then maybe we can use that somehow. THAT’S how you can help."

"I don’t … oh, right. I get it. You’re saying that if he really does know something about how this all happened, or Michelle does — and that’s only like a trillion to one — you think you can somehow get control of it and use whatever kind of magic force to protect yourself?" Mark sighed. "These things never work out right, you know."

"What do you mean ‘never work out’? Like you have some kind of personal experience? Like you’ve tried it before? Like this kind of thing has ever happened before?"

"No. Of course not. I mean … in stories. Movies. You know. Tampering with forces too powerful to control."

"Mark! Come on! What difference does THAT make? This isn’t a story or some kind of fantasy. This is real. Besides, you want to wait around to see what that gang does to us? To you? What ELSE are you going to do to protect yourself?"

"This is ridiculous. You think they’re really going to beat me up, just ’cause I’m having lunch with you?"

"How should I know? You heard her." Celia shrugged. "Maybe they will. Maybe they won’t. I don’t know." Celia moved closer to Mark. "Listen, you can talk to Martin, or not talk to Martin. I just thought from what you were saying before that you might be curious. You might find something out that we can use. I mean, we think the same way about this, don’t we? I want to be strong, and you … you want me to be strong. Either way we win, right?" She looked into his eyes and he looked back, breathing hard. She HAD him. She KNEW it. "Anyway, come over my house after school. There won’t be any new homework today. You can watch me work out. And we can hang out together. You know." Mark looked at her, his eyes slipping over to her biceps, her chest and then back up to her face. "Don’t you want to?" she asked more sweetly. She touched his cheek with her biceps and then flexed them gently. "You know you do," she said more quietly. "I mean, am I your dream girl or what?"

"You’re not bad," Mark replied, trying not to smile. "Look. Isn’t that Martin getting up from lunch? Maybe, uh, maybe I can have a little chat with him. Before class." He stood up.

"Sure. See you later," Celia said with a smile.

[Mark Newman]

Wednesday is so long that I’ll be posting it in three parts. The next part is nearly all written and will be up during the week of April 4.

Enjoy.

Mark

[Mark Newman]

Thanks for the offer. I do enjoy illustrations of growth and "reversal" scenes, whether from my stories or from others. Matt ‘n Emma has a few scenes that would look great in a few panels, in the first and last parts when Matt is getting progressively weaker while Emma grows and grows. The same with Give and Take and Tennis.

Many of the others I’ve written take place too slowly to work graphically. But I would be tickled to see any artist conceptions of the characters I’ve created. I also love to see the animations people have created of FMG or muscle transfer. Leyla did some great animations like that, but they’ve disappeared from the web, mostly, or are now on pay site that I haven’t paid for

So, that’s what’s on my wish list.

Mark

[Mark Newman]

Wednesday is going extremely well. I have just two more scenes to write, one of them quite short, but due to travel plans I may not get a chance to post it until the first full week of April. It depends on business, unfortunately, but the ideas are all worked out. That’s why I can’t accommodate RevTekkx last thought. But he will get his wish, in a fashion.

After that, I’ll have to think about how far to take this story or whether I should move on to the next project. I do like playing with these characters and the situation.

[Mark Newman]

It will be a sad day when you hang up the keyboard… [shudder]

I’m happy to say I have no plans for that.

[Author]

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