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And now, picking up where the story left off, we have Chapter 05 of the Sylph stories. Not sure if anyone (except AlexG) here actually likes these or not (he wheedled), so thanksies and feedbacks are wanted…
{knock, knock, knock!}
“huh?”
{snrk}
“just a…{yawn!}…second!”
{THUD!}
“OW! stoopid, frakkin’, ratzen, ratzlefratch!”
Finally, the door opened and Wade stood face-to-face with the young woman in the doorway. The only thing was, it wasn’t the woman he had expected to see. Leaning in the doorway was a darkly tanned woman with lustrous black hair and the second-most stunning figure Wade had ever seen. His mouth dropped open and he just barely managed to keep his tongue from rolling out as he tried to find words to say.
“Hey, Wade,” she dimpled at him, obviously unoffended. When he obviously didn’t recognize her, she continued. “I’m Khalida. Why don’t you come on in while I find the coffee?” She pulled the door open and stepped back into the room. Stepping in after her, Wade turned to close the door and was surprised at how difficult it was. The door must have weighed a hundred pounds, but she had handled it easily with one hand.
“Um, I’m here to see Sylph…” Wade managed after he got the door closed.
“I figured that out, silly,” Khalida chirped at him. “Sylph said she might run down to the grocery store this morning to get some breakfast stuff. I’m guessing she’ll be back soon.”
Khalida evidently found the box with the coffee and the coffeemaker in it. It was under another box, moderately large. Grabbing it with both hands, Khalida the second box off of the first with a light oomph, then turned to Wade. “Here,” she grunted, “hold this.”
Without thinking, Wade reached out his arms to grip the box from underneath. She let go and Wade suddenly felt as if his arms were being pulled out of his sockets. He overbalanced and crashed to the floor, startling Khalida and pinning his arms under the box. Her eyes went very wide and she squatted down to lift the box off his poor, abused arms. “Omigosh! Are you okay?” she asked.
“Nothing broken, I think,” Wade assayed cautiously as she set the box on the floor next to him. Wade considered the enigma in front of him as she went back to setting up the coffeemaker and preparing the coffee. It took him a few moments. When he was in high school, she would have been a few years younger than him. “Are you, by chance, Khalida Matsoukis?”
“I thought sure you didn’t recognize me!” she exclaimed, obviously delighted.
“Honestly?” Wade chuckled, “I didn’t. Last time I saw you, you were this grass-stained, skinny tomboy that always had scrapes on her knees and elbows. You’ve really changed a lot.”
A rhythmic thudding announced the arrival of the room’s primary occupant. Sylph filled the doorway the way only she could, her vast, mind-boggling size made accessible by the genuinely innocent and caring demeanor that wore it. She was wearing what appeared to be an over-stuffed custom-made backpack, easily large enough to be intended as the duffel for a very long-distance camping excursion. She was wearing a pair of workout shorts, Wade saw, already under more stress than they could possibly be expected to survive, a surprisingly loose fitted top that must have used as much fabric as a standard four-man tent, and matching bracelets and anklets. Her entire body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, which Wade found mildly surprising given that he had a pretty good idea of how strong she really was-or, at least, he thought he did.
“Hi Wade, Hey Khalida,” Sylph panted, “let me put the groceries away and I’ll help with breakfast.”
“Sure thing,” Khalida agreed. “Hey, do you think you could do something about your weights? I tripped over them getting the door.”
“Oh, sure. Are you okay?”
“Well, I banged my chin on one of your crates, but other than that, I’m fine.”
As they sat down to breakfast (Wade only drank coffee, as he had already eaten), they talked about the schedule for the day. Wade promised to help them both with getting registered for classes and to show them around campus. Khalida reminded Sylph that she had promised to help her in the gym, and Wade offered to tag along for emotional support.
Class registration proved to be fairly anti-climactic. There were a number of core classes that they had to take- English literature, a humanities course- and then they had the option to fill up the rest of their schedule with a couple of electives. Sylph chose a survey drawing course and an introductory dance course. Khalida managed to get assigned to the same humanities course and the same dance course, although she ended up in a different lit class. Her other class was a teaching methods class called Characteristics of Learners. Looking over their schedules, Wade indicated judicious approval. They weren’t going to have an easy time, but they had good professors. “And I should tell you,” he mentioned, “you have an outstanding TA in your Fundamentals of Drawing class.”
They looked at him curiously.
“Me,” he said, buffing his fingernails on his shirt.
Wade led them around the campus, stopping in the student union for lunch. As the three of them chatted over lunch, a number of young men sat nearby and whispered comments to each other. Khalida was obviously upset by this, but Sylph appeared to be used to it. “Just let it go, Khalida,” she muttered, “it’s kind of what I get for being me.”
Khalida scowled at this, and Wade raised one eyebrow. “Just because you’re used to it doesn’t make it right,” Khalida whispered fiercely as Wade got to his feet and ambled over to the other table.
Looking up, Sylph blanched. Wade was obviously in good shape, but the men at the next table were what she would have described as prime specimens. Wade stood there talking with them for a few minutes, and Sylph waited nervously, afraid that violence might break out at any moment. Sylph couldn’t make out what they were saying, but Wade gestured to her a couple of times and several of the scowling faces turned toward her before returning to their quiet huddle. After another minute, the smallest—least large?—of the men at the other table got up from his seat and came around the table. Wade smiled at him amiably and led him over to Sylph and Khalida.
“Ladies,” Wade began, “please allow me to introduce Mike Pendergast, quarterback of the NYU Violets.”
Mike stood a good six-foot-two and was clearly in very good shape. He was quite lean, Sylph realized, his baggy shirt and jeans hiding a body that was undoubtedly corded with lean muscle and whippet-fast.
“How do you do, ma’am,” he nodded first at Khalida, then at Sylph. His accent was honeyed molasses, deep and rich to match his skin.
“Um, okay,” Sylph replied, glancing at Wade for a cue. He was as inscrutable as a Cheshire cat, and she silently vowed to get even with him later.
“We-” he indicated the men at the other table “-couldn’t help but notice you when you came in. We represent the offensive line of the Violets. Do you know much about us?”
Sylph had to admit that she really didn’t.
“Well, that’s not really surprising. NYU hasn’t had a varsity football team since the sixties. That’s something we’d like to change, though. We’re not slouches, athletically, but, well, it’s kind of obvious to us that you’re way beyond us.”
Sylph blushed.
“We were hoping,” he rushed on, “that we could talk you into helping us train. If you’ve got the time, of course.”
Sylph nodded, having trouble finding her voice. Khalida looked dumbstruck. “Hey, that’s awesome,” she began, then paused, trying to gauge Sylph’s reaction.
“Sure,” Sylph managed at last. “We’re heading over to the gym after lunch. Why don’t you guys join us?”
Ya ever have one of those days? Today was one of those days… I went to work and got started on formalizing Sylph’s profile. As I chewed over the text that I’d written, I realized I’d made an error in every single picture I’d released to date. Specifically, I gave her green eyes in Chapter 04, and then, when I started making pictures, I turned them into a warm brown.
Now, don’t get me wrong: I like the brown eyes… but I thought it might be a wacky idea if her eyes were actually the right color, so I went ahead and changed them… and then I went and redid all the pictures I had of her, to date. In case you really just want to see the pretty pictures- they are pretty, right?- or if you want to laugh at me for my ham-handed writing technique, I’m reposting all the links to the chapters in my dA account:
Sylph 01 in Morning Routine
Sylph 02 in Moving Day
Sylph 03 in Meet and Greet
Sylph 04 in Slumber Party
sometime after the end of the established timeline, Sylph in Heroine Appreciation DayAnd, of course, the previously unreleased Sylph Profile Page
Sylph
Height: 5’6”
Weight: 2,150 lbs
Hair: Chestnut Brown
Eyes: Light Green
Ethnicity: Irish/Slavic mixAppearance:
Sylph is, quite simply, enormous. Although her height is only average, her massive physique tips the scale at over a ton of dense, solid muscle. Despite her anomalous musculature, Sylph’s face is still remarkably feminine, with surprisingly delicate features, a round face, and a slightly pointed chin that seems reminiscent of typical depictions of elves. Sylph’s size is such that all of her wardrobe has to be hand-tailored, leaving a lot of room for expansion, and even so she regularly flexes out of her clothes by accident. Sylph’s outfits tend to be quite rugged, made primarily of leather and denim, although she enjoys the feel of softer fabrics when she can afford them and get away with them.Personal Quote:
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”
“I am NOT clumsy!”Background/History:
Sylph is the daughter of Bill, a modestly successful corporate lawyer, and Diane, a former amateur bodybuilder and current paramedic. Growing up in Cleveland, Ohio, Sylph was something of an oddity; she attended public schools, but it was quite clear by the time she was six years old that Sylph was far from normal. Even in preschool, Sylph was strong, but as she entered school, it seemed as if her physical power grew exponentially.This was not, naturally, without complications. Despite Sylph’s good nature and generally cautious way of interacting with the world, her outsized proportions, weight, and strength meant that things often broke in her presence despite her best intentions, and the repair bills for a daughter who could accidentally trip and knock a pickup truck onto its side quickly became significant.
In an effort to help mitigate the accidental damage that his daughter caused, Bill introduced his daughter to his martial arts instructor, who insisted on teaching martial arts as an immersive way of life, requiring Sylph to become centered as well as skillful. Additionally, Sylph’s mother, Diana, helped her daughter refine her tactile awareness so that she was less prone to causing catastrophes in moments of distraction.
Neither method was entirely successful, and Sylph remained somewhat accident prone, especially as her physical size increased and her strength more than overmatched her growth. People who knew Sylph quickly came to dread the sound of her chagrined “Oops,” usually immediately following a symphony of destructive noises that sounded like a percussive symphony.
Middle school and high school were particularly difficult for the titanic teen, and she was often accused of being clumsy, inept, or uncoordinated. Unsurprisingly, Sylph developed something of an aversion to being called clumsy, and a nearly certain way to send her past her boiling point was to say or imply that her size made her dangerously or stupidly awkward.
As an escape from such taunts and, also, as a way to prove to herself that she actually wasn’t unreasonably ungainly, Sylph began turning her attention to artistic pursuits. She had always enjoyed drawing, and she had a good eye for detail, but once she hit middle school, she turned her attention to oils, watercolors, and sculpture. Her favorite subjects were fantasies, especially those that involved faeries and unicorns, and her skill was sufficient that, despite her fairly juvenile subject matter, she caught the eye of several professors and the New York University School of Art, and she was actively recruited into their program.
The larger body of New York University was not as overwhelmingly thrilled to have Sylph apply, largely because her size pretty much guaranteed that the University would have to make extensive accommodations in order to provide services. They were gearing up to reject Sylph’s application when Bill invoked the ADA and worked out a compromise that they were, reluctantly, forced to accept.
Personality:
Sylph often seems shy and a little uncertain, but much of this is because she is exceptionally wary of accidentally hurting anyone. While Sylph is not a true pacifist, she will always seek a nonviolent solution to any conflict in favor of using force, provided the opportunity is present or can be made available. Sylph is, in fact, very confident in her own abilities and, further, enjoys showing off when she thinks others will appreciate the show. She generally appears demure, but the frequency with which her activities leave her half-naked have led many to suspect that Sylph has more than a little bit of an exhibitionist streak to her.Powers/Abilities:
Sylph is an enormously powerful young woman in a world where there are very few metahumans to compete with her. As of the current timeline in the story, Sylph has actually outstripped even the out-sized weightroom equipment that her father and the best engineers at Boglyn construction could devise. She has proven capable of stabilizing the central building support for a five story building, although the exact amount of weight involved (and how it was distributed to her muscles) is something that is still under debate. It seems likely that Sylph can easily manage in excess of a thousand tons, and the actual upper limit seems to be increasing almost constantly.Sylph’s enormous strength is, fortunately, balanced by her tremendous agility; while she cannot achieve truly superhuman speeds, except as a function of the power her muscles can exert against the ground, her reaction time greatly exceeds even the best of natural athletes. With the benefit of adrenaline, Sylph is capable of reacting to and responding to emergencies while others are still barely registering their perception of the events; it is this uncanny level of perception and reactions that has, to date, allowed her to avoid causing injury to another human being either through accidental action or inaction. Unfortunately, these reactions seem to be, at best, spotty, only truly coming fully into effect when another living creature is endangered.
Finally, Sylph’s endurance also far exceeds natural human limitations. This, specifically, is limited to her physical durability and resistance to fatigue from physical exertions; it does nothing to prevent her from being overwhelmed by mental fatigue or just getting worn out from a long day. On the other hand, while it has never actually been tested, it seems quite likely that Sylph’s body is probably immune to most small arms and probably even some more powerful weapons, as her flesh necessarily has a density that far exceeds any natural human.
Sylph is an accomplished artist, with a keen eye for color and form. She is skilled in most visual media, and is becoming a talented photographer and sculptor.
Sylph has a solid background in technical drawing, architecture, and mechanical engineering. Again, she is not an expert, but she’s naturally talented, has further enhanced her skills through education, and is wise enough to seek help when she needs it.
Sylph has trained in martial arts, focusing on Tai Chi Chuan and Aikijujitsu. While she is not a master, she is certainly an exceptionally talented student and takes her studies seriously.
Weaknesses
Sylph breaks stuff. This is almost never intentional; it is simply the result of being a proverbial bull in a tissue-paper China shop. It is not that she is clumsy (see above— she is not); it is simply that, even at her most careful, she cannot always adjust her strength to the flimsiness of the world around her.Sylph is generally very even tempered, but she can be snide, bitchy, or downright rude when she’s out of sorts, and the reasons for her temper are as varied for her as they are for anyone. In particular, she hates it when people suggest that she has become clumsy, and she has been known to make poor decisions when goaded, although she almost always regrets it immediately thereafter.
Sylph has a strong sense of personal responsibility, and will always try to make good on any damages that she incurs as a result of accidents or misdeeds. That Sylph is not independently wealthy has meant that she’s needed to take on a full time job as a construction-site supervisor in addition to her classes and spending time as a coach for the NYU Violets Football team. This has, naturally, left her without much time for romance, and that combined with her unusual physique has left her a bit insecure about her romantic prospects.
I think this one came out pretty well; Chapter 04 is not my favorite chapter of all the Sylph stories, but it’s not horrid, either.
{knock, knock, knock}
“Whup!”
{bump…CRUNCH!}
“Shoot! Every time… Be right there!”
There was the sound of heavy footsteps, then of something very big being dragged away from the door. Finally, the door swung inwards. Framed in the doorway was the most massive person Kalida had ever seen. The woman was neither tall nor fat, Kalida saw immediately, just unnaturally wide. Large breasts rested atop a pectoral shelf that appeared to be over a foot deep. Deltoids larger than basketballs were crowded against trapezius muscles that looked as if they had been drawn by an overenthusiastic geometer. Her triceps didn’t appear to be horseshoes; rather, it looked as if someone had decided that it would be less wasteful if they simply shoved the entire horse under her skin. In fact, all of her muscles appeared to be absurdly hypertrophied.
Tearing her gaze away from the woman’s body, Kalida looked into her face. The incongruity of such a youthful, delicate face on such an obviously powerful body was almost too great to comprehend. Her hair was a rich chestnut color, not extraordinarily thick, but not too thin, either. Her eyes were an interesting shade of watery green and very large set into a face that had the high cheekbones and aristocratic nose of a Tolkien elf. After staring openly for a few moments, Kalida found her voice. “Forgive me. I did not mean to be rude. I am Kalida, your neighbor.”
“No need to apologize,” the giant woman said. Her voice was rich and melodious- a low soprano or a high alto, Kalida guessed. “I’m Sylph. Won’t you come in?”
Sylph stepped back from the door and motioned for Kalida to enter the room. Kalida’s first impression of the room was that a very comfortable living space had just had a collision with a disastrous train wreck. The room itself was quite large, originally intended as a triple or possibly even a quad. Of course, given Sylph’s enormous physical presence, it made sense that it had been converted into a single. There was all of the usual furniture, but none of it was made to regulation specifications. Looking again, Kalida realized that wasn’t quite true. All of the standard furniture was present, but most of it was neatly stacked against the east wall. The exceptions were pieces that appeared to have been victims of a ruthless toddler with power tools.
For example, there was a bed against the west wall, but it was an obviously custom-made contraption, with extra-heavy bars and bracing, and thick lag-bolts securing the pieces so that it would take truly cataclysmic forces to so much as shift the frame. The mattress and box-spring were both king-size, and Kalida suspected that that barely made it wide enough for Sylph to sleep on comfortably. The original bed, while still in the room, had been separated into two distinct parts. The mattress was leaning against the east wall, while the frame appeared to have been bent into a letter ‘V.’ A spider’s web of cracks spread out from the nadir of the ‘V’-frame where the point had been embedded into the concrete floor by what appeared to be about six inches.
“Interesting sculpture,” she commented. “How did you get it into the floor? And isn’t the administration going to object?”
Sylph reddened slightly. “Sculpture? Oh, the bed. When you knocked I was in the process of moving it. You distracted me and I tripped over a box of my warm-up weights and fell on it.”
“You did all that,” Kalida indicated the twisted, mangled heap of steel, “by simply falling on it?”
“Well, I didn’t mean to,” Sylph grimaced.
Sylph looked a little embarrassed and quickly cast around for a new subject. “So, um… What brings you here?”
“Well, uh, a couple things. I noticed you came back to your room before they started serving dinner and you’ve been sort of cloistered in here ever since…”
“Yeah?”
“Well, they stopped serving dinner about an hour ago, and I made some pastitsio and some dolmathes. I thought you might like something to eat.”
“Hey, that’s really sweet of you,” Sylph said, looking genuinely pleased.
“Well, it’s over in my room- I’m just across the hall in one of the suites, and we have a pretty good kitchen. Why don’t you come on over and we can eat?”
“Sure. Would you mind waiting while I change into some clean clothes? I kind of ruined my dress earlier today, and I figured I couldn’t hurt it any worse moving furniture and stuff around, but I wouldn’t want to go anywhere in it, y’know?”
“Go ahead,” Kalida smiled, noticing for the first time what appeared to be oil-stains on Sylph’s shoulders and bosom. Sylph flashed another quick smile and quickly skinned out of her dress. If it was possible, Sylph seemed even larger now than she had when she was fully dressed. Sylph’s waist, Kalida realized, was actually larger around than Kalida’s entire torso, although it seemed almost waspish sandwiched between the dual pillars that were her legs and the monolithic superstructure of her chest.
Kalida watched as Sylph rummaged in her chest of drawers, eventually pulling out an enormous pair of very stretchy drawstring shorts and a vest that looked as if it could have served to cover the entire offensive line of NYU’s football team. Sylph sat on the edge of her bed and carefully pulled the shorts up over calves that more closely resembled full-grown steers, past her surprisingly dainty knees, and then gently, oh-so-gently stretched them to near-transparent thinness over her upper legs and butt. Standing once again, Sylph let out a deep breath and shrugged her arms into her vest. There was a slight popping sound as some of the threads around the armholes gave out, and Sylph looked despairingly at the overtaxed garment. “Looks like I’m going to need to insert another panel in the shoulders,” she mumbled as she tied the front together with a long leather thong.
Now dressed in clean clothes, Sylph joined Kalida and walked across the hall. Kalida’s suite was a bit larger than Sylph’s if you included all six living spaces, the small lounge area, the kitchen, and the dining area. There were no lights on, so Sylph waited in the hall until Kalida found the switch. Sylph was surprised to note how bare the entire area looked. “None of my roomies have arrived yet,” Kalida explained. “It gets a bit, um, lonely late at night.”
Sylph shook her head. “I imagine. I hate being in an unfamiliar place alone at night. It always seems so creepy.”
“Creepy?” Kalida asked. “Why that?”
Sylph laughed self-consciously, shrugged her shoulders. “Mom says it’s called achluophobia- an irrational fear of the dark. You probably think that’s pretty silly coming from me.” To her surprise, Kalida did not look in the least scornful, or even surprised. Instead, the emotions Sylph saw were those of sympathy and relief.
“Do you know,” she began weakly, “I thought I was going crazy the first time it happened to me. This fear doesn’t happen when I am at home, or when I am with a friend, but if I am alone, it can be very strong.”
Sylph found herself nodding as Kalida spoke. She remembered how her dad had given her Mr. Rickles and told her that the bear was a magic knight that would protect her from the night terrors when they moved into their new house. It was a silly story, of course, but she was six, and it got her through the first couple nights until she could become acclimatized to their new home. She knew her fear didn’t follow the typical pattern exactly, and it sounded as if Kalida’s phobia was very similar to her own.
Kalida shook her head. “Wow, that was uncomfortable. Let’s get some food on the table.” She went to the oven and pulled a large pan out. The slightly spicy aroma from the pastitsio filled the room with the scents of tomatoes and cinnamon. A second covered tray held the rolled grape leaves, which Kalida placed on the countertop.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Sylph asked.
“Sure. Can you go down the hall and get some ice? I thought we might have some iced tea with dinner.” Sylph nodded and headed down the hall to the ice machine.
Kensington Hall was one of the newest dorms on campus, and a number of incentives had been made available to students who chose to live there as part of the university’s way of promoting the chem-free lifestyle. Among the luxuries provided were hotel-style ice machines on every floor and brand-new high-capacity coke machines. When Sylph got to the small vending room, she saw that the workmen responsible for stocking and repairing the various machines had been through recently. This was apparent mainly because the new soda dispenser had been placed directly in front of the ice machine, completely blocking it.
Sighing, Sylph gently placed an arm on either side of the giant vending machine and squeezed lightly to get a secure grip. Squatting slightly, she lifted the half-ton box straight up and started to walk in over to a blank space on the wall. As she started walking, she felt the flat sides starting to slip in her grip, so she squeezed down slightly harder.
{krnk…sprang!}
{thud.}
{thud. thud.}
{thudthudthudthudthudthud.}
First one, then a couple more, then a torrent of Coke bottles issued forth from the vending bay, bouncing off Sylph’s knees and rolling around on the floor. With her vision completely blocked by the large dispensary, Sylph accidentally stepped on one of the loose bottles, mashing it flat and spraying the contents all over the room, but not before she completely lost her footing and went over on her back with a tremendous crash.
“I just can’t win,” Sylph grunted, still holding the Coke machine up over her body. Shifting the weight of the thousand-pound soda cooler, Sylph crunched her abs into a sit-up position, then brought her legs under her cross-legged. Finally, still with the giant box parallel to the floor, she stood straight up. There was another loud crunching noise, this time from the ceiling being compressed by roughly a foot. The overhead fluorescent lights exploded in a shower of sparks and the metal beams folded and accordioned, dropping broken plaster and dust in torrents. Sylph winced and slowly, carefully, set the Coke machine back on the floor to the side of the ice maker.
Looking at the ice maker, Sylph was chagrined to learn that there was a work order taped to its face. Looking over the work order, she discovered that the ice maker was due for maintenance because the blades which were supposed to chop the ice had malfunctioned, causing the machine to jam. The machine was still plugged in, though, and still connected to the building water supply, so Sylph guessed that there was probably still ice inside it. Examining the machine, Sylph figured she could probably get to the ice hopper easiest by stripping the top off it. The machine was not originally designed to be opened in this way, of course, but, at this point, that wasn’t really a huge concern. Digging her fingers into the metal side of the ice maker, Sylph carefully rolled it back as if she were opening a can of tinned meat, neatly tearing the metal apart from the front and back of the machine as she went.
Peering inside, she saw that the hopper was, indeed, full, but the ice had melted and refrozen into a giant lump. For anyone else, it would require either a long time with the power off or else a hammer and ice-pick to slowly and painstakingly remove the ice. Sylph grinned suddenly and cracked her knuckles. Balling her hand into a tight fist, Sylph plunged her arm deep through the mass of solid ice, causing the entire block to splinter. Taking her ice bucket, Sylph filled it from the shattered fragments left in the hopper. Setting down the bucket, she set about undoing the damage she had caused to the best of her ability- she flattened out the top of the ice maker, collected up the dropped soda bottles and set them next to the machine, and left a twenty dollar bill taped to the front of the Coke machine.
Returning to Kalida’s room with the ice, Sylph saw that Kalida had set everything on a low table in the lounge. “I noticed that you didn’t have any normal sized furniture in your room,” she explained, “and I figured the chairs in our dining room are pretty rickety, so I thought we might eat Asian-style.”
As they ate, Kalida and Sylph talked about a variety of subjects. Kalida mentioned that she knew Wade from high school- he was a few grades ahead of her- and had always had kind of a crush on him. Kalida was, apparently, a year older than Sylph, but had spent a year after graduating high school in Greece with her grandparents, thus putting them in the same class in college. Sylph mentioned that she was planning to major in visual arts and Kalida said that she was planning on studying dance, although she was concerned that she might not have the strength needed for modern dance.
“I can help you train, if you want,” Sylph offered. Kalida looked her up and down, obviously somewhat intimidated, and Sylph laughed lightly. “Don’t worry- I don’t think you could get as big as me if you wanted to. I have pretty exceptional genetics and I’ve been training since I was six years old.”
“Well, okay,” Kalida agreed, “but you have to promise not to kill me- I’m not superwoman, y’know.”
Sylph smiled gently. “Of course not. We’ll take it slow and easy at first. You’re probably stronger than you think you are, though.”
After they finished, Sylph helped Kalida clean up, then got ready to go back to her own room. Pausing at the door, she turned back to Kalida. “Um,” she began hesitantly, “I don’t suppose you’d like to come over to my room and spend the night, would you?”
Kalida paused in what she was doing and looked up at the much larger girl. Sylph reddened slightly, embarrassed. Finally, Kalida nodded decisively. “Sure. I’m glad you asked, really. Let me grab my covers and you can set up the spare bed so that we both have a place to sleep.”
Just another quick one for White0wlsuperheroine’s Heroine Appreciation Day:
Since she’d started working for Boglyn, the company’s already exceptionally good record of accident avoidance and worker safety had only improved, and Jesse Boglyn had no doubt that Sylph was largely responsible. For that reason, the construction mogul had done a couple of very intelligent things; first, he’d promoted her to site supervisor with a more than commensurate salary increase— he wasn’t about to let Sylph go without a fight— and, second, he started assigning her to jobs where her unique attributes could make the difference between a disaster and a spotless job completed. So far, he hadn’t been disappointed.
Well, that was a policy that was about to pay dividends; Sylph was just closing up for the night when she spotted a couple kids sneaking onto the site. They had managed to hotwire a forklift before she got to them, and they’d run off without disengaging the drivetrain. Unfortunately, the heavy machine had been aimed at a few barrels of propane, and Sylph, herself, just couldn’t fit inside the cockpit to turn it off.
She’d grabbed the back end of the lift with one arm and a wall with her other and, having learned since her first, ill-conceived attempt to resist both the weight and the power of the engine when she’d started working, hoisted the wheels off the ground. She remained in basically that same position for about an hour and a half until Wade, wondering why she hadn’t made it home for dinner, dropped by and rescued her.
“So… next time,” Wade quipped, “maybe you should call me before you engage in acts of stunning heroics, eh?”
“Smartass,” Sylph grumped, “you owe me ice cream.”
“What for?” Wade protested.
“For being an hour late!”
Probably the last one I’ll be able to do for a few days, as certain other responsibilities are piling up… Here’s Chapter 03.
{Cree-ee-eak…}
{Crash!}
“Oh, phooey,” Sylph grimaced. Obviously, the heavily built lounge chair was not as sturdy as it had first appeared. Glancing about, she saw that several people had already noticed the fresh wreckage she had created and were moving towards her.
“Hi there,” said a tall, sandy-haired boy. “You must be Sylph.”
“Um, yeah,” she admitted, reddening slightly.
“I’m Wade Thomas. I’m your student liason. Can I help you up?”
“Thanks,” she managed, “but I doubt it.” Ignoring his proffered hand, Sylph opted to stand unassisted. Sylph’s hand-tailored dress, a muumuu on any other woman, gripped her mammoth frame like cling-film. Wade suddenly appeared to notice the radical difference in their sizes and chuckled self-consciously.
“Sorry. I guess you might be right, at that.”
A very prim matronly woman with a silver bun had finally reached them and was wringing her hands. “Oh dear, oh dear. I do hope you’re alright, young lady. I’m so sorry. We’ll have someone from custodial come deal with this immediately.”
“I’m fine, ma’am. Really,” Sylph replied dusting herself off. “Nothing damaged but my pride.”
“So,” Wade cut in, drawing her away from the distraught librarian, “you’re an art student?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s neat. Have you seen our student art exhibits over in the Washington Square East galleries?”
“Not yet. I just got in yesterday, and I haven’t really had a chance to acquaint myself with the campus. I saw the Storefront/Forefront exhibit a couple of years ago, though.”
“Hey, really? I had a piece in there,” Wade remarked, proudly.
“Wait- did you do Missing Persons?” Sylph asked incredulously.
“Wow- you remember it?” Wade held the door open for Sylph as they stepped out onto 78th street.
“How could I forget? That was a fantastic piece. Very subtle, the way the shadows seemed to indicate more people than were actually visible in the painting- your medium is normally photography, isn’t it?”
“How’d you know?” Wade asked, slightly nonplussed.
“Your attention to detail! It was incredible,” Sylph gushed. “It was like the background was actually alive.”
“Huh,” Wade mused, looking up the street. “Well, I wish the critics agreed with you. I got pretty roundly panned, actually.”
“That’s so unfair,” Sylph snorted. “Maybe the critics just didn’t understand what they were seeing.”
“Maybe,” Wade conceded. “Shoot. I was hoping we’d be able to get a cab, but it looks like the streets are just too packed. It’s going to take hours to get across town. I don’t think I can even get to my car.”
Sylph looked at him sympathetically. “Where are you parked?”
“I’m in one of the student lots about a mile from here,” Wade grimaced. “If I can’t get my car out in the next fifteen minutes, they’re going to charge me another fifty bucks for overstaying my welcome.”
“Hmm. Tell you what. Why don’t we hike there and see if we can get you out before you have to pay any extra, and you can tell me all about yourself on the way.”
Wade shrugged. “I suppose it can’t hurt. And walking is good exercise, right?”
Sylph laughed. “That’s the spirit. Lead on, MacDuff!”
As they walked, they chatted and Sylph learned that Wade originally hailed from Nebraska, had grown up as a farmboy (his nickname throughout his freshman year had been “Cornfed”), and had originally come to NYU on an athletic scholarship for, of all things, swimming. Sylph noted that she used to enjoy swimming, but that she really didn’t like to go in the water much anymore.
“Why not?” Wade asked curiously.
“Well, look at me,” Sylph commented. Wade looked. She was, as he had already noticed, very, very big. Unnaturally so, if he was completely honest. She certainly didn’t look unhealthy, though…
“I swim with about the same skill as a brick,” she said wryly. “I just don’t float, anymore.”
“What, even with those enormous airbags in front?” he bantered.
Sylph stuck out her tongue at him. “Those are pecs, wiseass!”
Wade grinned impishly.
Arriving at the parking garage, Wade was dismayed to discover a traffic snarl that reached around the block. “Oh, no,” he moaned. “We’ll never get my car out in time, now.”
Sylph, on the other hand, seemed utterly unperturbed as they breezed by the parking attendant and into the lot. “Which car is yours?” Sylph asked.
Wade pointed to a green Dodge Caravan. “That’s kind of a cute car,” Sylph commented as she sauntered over. “Why don’t you hop in and we’ll see if we can get her out.”
Wade shrugged and unlocked the doors with his key. He hopped in the driver’s seat and reached over to the passenger side door when he noticed that Sylph was still on his side of the car. “Hey,” he called. “What gives?”
Sylph winked at him. “Better buckle up. I’ve never tried this with a passenger, before,” she beamed. Confused, Wade reached over his shoulder and fastened his seat belt. At about the same time, he felt the minivan suddenly tip sharply towards the passenger’s side. Looking out the windshield, it appeared as if the world had suddenly turned at a forty-five degree angle for a moment. The sensation passed quickly, though, as the passenger side also lifted free of the earth and the vehicle started to move forward out of its space.
“How’s the ride up there,” Sylph called from somewhere underneath him.
It took Wade a moment to find his voice. “N-not bad,” he said, attempting to sound nonchalant. “Might need to do some work on the shocks, though. I seem to be bouncing about a bit more than usual.”
Sylph grinned widely and sank into a half crouch, smoothing out her gait as she suspended the nearly two-ton vehicle above her head. “Is that better?”
“Much,” Wade replied in amazement.
Approaching the parking attendant, Sylph dropped much lower so that Wade could just manage to pay him by leaning out his door and dropping some change into the dumbstruck attendant’s hand. “You’re never gonna get that into traffic,” the attendant finally managed.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Sylph caroled. “We’re going to an art gallery. It’s only a couple of miles, so I thought we’d just walk.”
As Sylph turned onto the wide sidewalk, lifting the car far above her head so that she didn’t accidentally clip any other pedestrians, Wade leaned back out. “Are you sure about this Sylph? It’s more than just a couple of miles- it’s closer to, like, ten miles.”
“It’s sweet of you to worry, Wade, but believe me when I tell you that this isn’t really that much of a burden for me. Why don’t you just give me directions and we’ll see if we can’t find someplace to leave your car that’s a bit more amenable for us being away from it for a few hours.”
Wade, thoroughly enjoying his unique new perspective, graciously conceded to Sylph’s wishes and started directing her through the busy Manhattan streets, being careful to avoid areas with low hanging banners or other obstacles. Not far from the gallery, Sylph spotted a parking space on the street with a meter that someone had left nearly full. Carefully setting the minivan into the space, Sylph stepped around to Wade’s side and grandly gestured for him to step out of the car.
Smiling widely, Wade did as instructed, then turned to face the ravishing beauty who had saved him from the tyranny of New York parking fares. She was covered in grime and dirt from the undercarriage of his car. “Oh, no!” he wailed. “Hold on- I have some towels and some mineral spirits in the back. We should be able to get the worst of that gunk off before it completely sets.”
“I should’ve thought about this before I got under your car,” Sylph sighed. “I guess that’s another dress shot to hell.” Wade delivered the promised cleaning products and Sylph proceeded to quickly towel off her hair, hands, and face, wincing when the fumes from the alcohol got in her eyes. “Ow! That stings!”
Having cleaned up as much as she could, Sylph handed the soiled towels back to Wade and they proceeded into the gallery. Several hours later, thoroughly exhausted, yet strangely elated they exited the building. Wade thanked Sylph again for her help and asked her what her plans were for the evening.
“Tonight?” she mused. “I hadn’t given it much thought. I suppose I’ll go home and grab a shower, than I need to get some food. I’m famished.”
“So… Will I see you tomorrow?” Wade asked hopefully.
“You’d better,” Sylph growled playfully. “I still need help getting signed up for classes!”
And… chapter two is now available. This is Sylph in Moving Day
Enjoy!
“Ow!”
{THUD…}
{tinkle…}
{CRASH!}
“Oh, no. Sorry, Daddy!”
Bill rounded the corner to discover his living room in shambles and his beautiful nineteen-year-old daughter, as usual, at the heart of it sucking on her left index finger. I love the girl, he thought, but thank God she’s moving out today! I just can’t afford this on my income.
“Oh, honey…” he began, then started over. “What happened?”
“Well, I was stitching up some of my old skirts- you know, the ones I outgrew the other day?” Bill nodded. At least she was handy at crafts. They really would be out of money, otherwise, the way she kept getting bigger.
“Well, I missed a stitch and stabbed my finger.” That explained why she had been sucking on it.
“I jumped to my feet…” That would have been the thud. Unsurprisingly, a couple of floorboards were cracked under her trainers.
“Then I pulled the needle out. It hurt so bad I threw it across the room…” Bill looked. Sure enough, the needle had blasted through the television (the tinkle he’d heard) like a shotgun shell and embedded itself deep in the brick wall behind it.
“I realized what I was doing at the last second, though, and I tried to catch it, but I tripped on the sofa.” That would be the 16-foot reinforced steel-and-wood framed couch now lying in twisted ruins in the corner of the room.
Bill just shook his head and rubbed his forehead. Sylph meant well- she always did- but she was just built on the wrong scale for the relatively fragile world she lived in. “Okay,” he muttered. “I can see how it happened. But Sylph, honey, you’ve got to learn to control yourself better. I have to go out and pick up the rental truck and trailer. While I’m gone, I need you to pick up this mess and get it out to the curb.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she said, sounding genuinely contrite.
“And then I need you to make sure all of your things are packed and ready to go. Especially your weight room!”
“Uh-huh. It’s mostly done. I’ve just got a couple more things to box up and I should be ready to go.”
“Good job, then. I’ll see you in about an hour,” he said. He kissed her forehead and left.
Sylph sighed looking at the devastated living room and shrugged her gargantuan shoulders. Might as well start with the little things, she thought. Walking over to the television, she unplugged the mammoth box and gently set it to one side, being careful not to crush it further. There was no way it could be salvaged, she knew, but she really didn’t want to spend the morning sweeping up shards of plastic and ballistic glass…
Looking at the tiny head of the pin sticking out of the brick behind the television, Sylph realized that there was no way she could get a grip on it- it was simply embedded too deeply. Unfortunately, enough of it stuck out that someone could scratch themselves or possibly tear their clothes on it. She decided it would have to go. Carefully, oh so carefully, Sylph forced her fingers into the mortar around the brick, then proceeded to squeeze her hands together ever so gently until she had a firm grip. A sharp tug, and the mortar still holding the brick along its top and bottom cracked and broke away and left Sylph holding the brick, now completely separated from the wall.
Dropping it into the trash, Sylph turned back to the television. The television had been something of a major luxury purchase for her family- a 65” rear-projection HDTV that had been modified at her father’s request to include a much stronger metal-and-plastic frame and one-inch thick ballistic glass covering the screen. The theory had been that Sylph would then be unable to accidentally break the television beyond repair as she was wont to do with so many other things in moments of distraction. Well, it made it nearly a year…
Sylph hoisted it up onto her left shoulder, snugging it on her enormous delt between her head and her left hand, grabbed the trash can with her right, and carried them to the back doors. Sliding open the glass doors, Sylph squatted down as low as she could and shuffled out on to the back porch. She wondered briefly if she could jump over the three-story Antebellum-styled house, but discarded the idea because she might land on something-or someone-unforseen on the other side. Grumbling, she hiked around to the front and set her first load down near the street. She felt a little bad for the garbage men who would be called to move this stuff- they’d probably need three or four large lads.
Heading back to the house, Sylph carefully slipped in the double doors and headed back to the living room. Sylph remembered when the sofa had been brought into the house. Several workmen had made several trips bringing it in sections, then spent some time bolting and soldering the entire frame together. It wasn’t going to come apart the same way, as the frame had buckled and twisted when she accidentally flipped it with her heel. Considering her options, she decided that the best method to get it outdoors would be to compress it down to a more manageable size and then carry the whole thing out through the back once again.
Setting to work, Sylph first folded the back of the sofa down over the seat. She left the cushions in place, figuring they would be easier to get out if they were compacted along with the rest of the couch. The metal frame groaned and the oak supports snapped like so much dry kindling, but the process went quickly. Next, she compressed each section further by forcing opposite corners together. Even though the sofa had been designed to hold literally thousands of pounds and each section was supported by series of triangular crossbraces, it simply could not resist the titanic forces Sylph used when she applied her back and chest to the exercise. After flattening a section, Sylph proceeded to bend it in half before starting on the next section, effectively accordioning the massive couch. Gently flipping it over, Sylph then folded each of the legs in against the utterly destroyed frame. When she finished, what had once been a 16-foot, extremely comfortable sofa had been reduced to a roughly three-foot wide by four-inch thick slab with roughly the same density as a block of concrete.
After carrying the couch out to the street, Sylph saw that she was nearly done in the living room. She dropped the broken floorboards into the trash on her way to the garage, grabbed a couple of replacements (this was nearly a daily occurrence, these days) and a couple of flooring nails. She considered grabbing a hammer since her finger was still a bit sore from where she had stabbed it, but decided it would be a waste of time-and possibly more flooring materials, as well. Replacing the floorboards took a matter of only a couple minutes as she set them in place, carefully set the nails, and deftly flicked them deep into the hickory boards. She decided she would wait until after she had finished moving all of her boxes into the truck before polyurethaning them- it was entirely possible, after all, that she would be replacing several more boards before the day was done…
Finally all that was left to do was to sweep up the debris from the wreckage, a task that took longer than any of the previous tasks simply because it required precision much more than strength. Satisfied, Sylph went down into the basement to make sure everything was ready to go. The cargo crates her father had acquired were only rated for two thousand pounds, each, so she had had to use quite a few in the weight room. Most of her bedroom, however, fit comfortably enough within just two crates. The hardest part was going to be getting her bed out. NYU was willing to accept reasonable expenses for students with special needs, but Sylph’s particular needs went far, far beyond what anyone would consider ‘reasonable.’
Sylph proceeded to unbolt the frame, carefully holding the lagbolts with her left hand and using the awesome power of her right wrist to loosen and remove the nuts, only a couple of which, she was pleased to note, had been crossthreaded. She figured she would correct that little issue when she put it back together in her new dorm room.
“Sylph, we’re home,” caroled her mother’s voice from the kitchen. Sylph bounded to the top of the stairs and swept her mom up in a hug and swung her around.
“You got the day off work!” she cried happily.
“Yes, dear. Would you mind setting me down so I can breathe again?” Sheepishly, Sylph put her mother back on the floor. Sylph’s mother, Diane, was actually a little taller than her daughter at 5’8”, and it was pretty easy to see where Sylph got her genetic predisposition towards building massive muscles. Diane had been an amateur bodybuilder for several years, but had quit when judges started criticizing her for being too big. Given that she had been a ripped two-hundred sixty pounds at the time, she felt this was an indication that it was time for her to get out of the sport. These days, she worked as a paramedic attached to the Cleveland Fire Department, and was widely regarded as one of the toughest workers in the business.
“That’s better. Your father is backing the trailer up to the house. Why don’t we start collecting your boxes and get them loaded up?” It was easy to guess that Dad wouldn’t be much help, there. Although reasonably fit, Bill simply could not keep up with the amazing physical prowess of either his wife or his daughter.
“Sure, Mom,” Sylph agreed.
Loading things up went fairly well. Bill helped direct the much stronger women in order to make the most efficient use of space and strapped things down once they were in place. For her part, Diane carried up the lighter crates (of which there were only a few) and left her daughter to carry up the larger and heavier ones two or three at a time.
Looking at the impressive stacks of crates, Sylph’s mother cocked an eyebrow. “Geez, dear. Did you leave any for your old man and me to play around with?”
“A couple, I swear. Actually, I left one of my smaller weight sets- about 500 pounds in various denominations, a couple of short bars, a straight bar, and a curl bar. And, of course, all the old machines that Daddy likes to use.”
With the trailer finally loaded up, Bill tossed a set of keys to his daughter. “Alright,” he said, “your mom and I are going to take the trailer. You drive the Ford. Stick close to us and call us if you get separated.”
The Ford Bill referred to was the modified F-350 that they owned. The front seat had been adjusted and pushed back to accommodate Sylph’s deep chest. They had bolted a new set of restraints to the frame of the truck, and the pedals had been shifted to the center of the floor to make room so that Sylph could get both shoulders fully inside the truck when she was driving and extended by nearly six inches so that her feet could reach them comfortably.
They had barely gone a mile when one of the tires on the trailer, not designed for the fantastic load it was supporting or else slightly worn through overuse, burst. As Sylph watched in horror, the entire truck slalomed across the slow lane before coming to rest in the ditch. Sylph immediately put on her flashers and pulled up behind her parents’ inoperable vehicle. Bill got out and scratched his head. “Well, shoot. I think there’s a spare, but I don’t think I can put it on at this angle.”
Both Sylph and her mom looked at him bemusedly. “Somehow, dear,” Diane said wryly, “I don’t think that’ll really be a problem.”
“Huh?” Bill looked speculatively at the two women he loved best in the world. “Well, you could be right at that. I’ll get the spare.”
While her dad got the tire, Sylph went over to the trailer. Standing back a little from the ruined wheel, Sylph got a grip on the trailer’s frame, took a wide stance, and lifted.
“Oh God,” she grunted, “it would have to break under all the weights.”
Her mom came over and stripped off her floral blouse so that she wouldn’t get it dirty while she worked. Gripping the tread of the tire with one hand to steady it and the rusted bolts with her other, Sylph’s mom quickly removed all four and then the tire, handing each back to Bill in turn. Bill pocketed the bolts but nearly dropped the tire when the weight was transferred from his wife’s capable arm to his substantially weaker frame.
“Oops. Sorry, honey. I thought you had it.”
“No… problem…” Bill grunted through clenched teeth.
“Now to attach the spare,” Diane chirped, slapping the massive tire into place. Bill handed her the bolts.
“Be careful not to over-torque them, honey,” he reminded her. This was a serious concern, since they didn’t have a torque wrench that would release pressure when the maximum load was reached- all they had was his wife’s sensitive fingers and powerful wrists.
Finally finished changing the tire, Sylph gently set the trailer back on the ground, noting with some satisfaction that her quads were really feeling the burn. Moving to the front of the truck, Sylph and Diane each took ahold of the frame of the doors and carefully dragged the truck back out of the ditch and back onto the relatively flat shoulder.
“Hm. Looks like the spare is riding a little low,” said Bill, examining their work with a critical eye. Let me go get the pump.” Moments later he was back. There was no pump.
“We’ll just have to call triple-A, I guess,” he moaned.
“Umm. Maybe not, Daddy. Let me have a shot at it, okay?”
Going over to the slightly deflated tire, Sylph put her mouth against the valve and, using her tongue to just barely force in the plug, blew with all the force she could muster. The tire seemed to virtually leap to full inflation from the power of Sylph’s lungs. It took several breaths, of course, but the pressure she was able to create just with the contraction of her mighty diaphragm was more than enough to equal the most powerful of electric pumps. Her father, carefully testing the tire between her breaths, warned her when to stop to avoid over-inflating the tire.
Sylph got up and spit the taste of rubber and metal and road-grease out of her mouth. “Yuck,” she complained.
The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful, although they raised quite a few eyebrows when they stopped at a restaurant for lunch and Sylph and her mother together proceeded to wolf down in excess of five pounds of meat not including sides and drinks. Bill paid for everything on his credit card and they got back underway.
Arriving on campus, they spent the rest of the day unloading and moving everything into Sylph’s new dormroom, an immense single in the bottom of the chemical-free dorm. After another large meal, Sylph’s parents kissed and hugged their daughter and said their goodbyes.
“Any plans for tomorrow, young lady?” asked Sylph’s mother.
“I’m not too sure. I’ve gotta finish unpacking, of course, and then I thought I might check out the library. And maybe the gym…”
