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Sylph Chapter 13

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Sylph in Weighty Matters

>BUMP!<

>cr-ee-ee-ea-kkk!<

"Oh-"

>tek-tek-tek…<

"Look out!"

>BOOM!<

>Krsshk!<

>tszsh!<

>tszsh!<

>tszsh!<

"Yow!"

"Sorry!"  Sylph covered her mouth with one dainty hand, blushing furiously at the carnage created by her casual turn.  The massive shelving unit had first twisted, then tottered on one side as the bolts fastening it to the floor had sheared and torn free.  The entire structure proceeded to smash into the shelving unit opposite it, smashing the larger glass candles instantly.  The smaller candles, votives in decorative glass globes, had been hurled an impressive distance by the impact, shattering and spraying shrapnel across the nearly deserted store's aisles.

Wade winced and touched her arm with a gentle palm, his large basketball-player's hands nearly lost on the vast expanse of Sylph's ridiculously thick forearm.

"I- I'll pay for that," Sylph offered lamely as the various store clerks blinked and sputtered at the insane destruction that promised to close that section of the store for at least a week while repairs were negotiated.

A small man in a cheap tweed jacket stormed up to her.  "What-  what did you do?  Young lady-" he sputtered, puffing his somewhat diminutive figure to a less-than-impressive display as he attempted to catch Sylph's eye.

Wade stepped in front of him, cutting short the man's tirade as he was forced to look up and further up to reach Wade's face towering above him at nearly six-and-a-half feet tall.  While Wade was slender, he was undeniably fit and his long frame was surprisingly imposing when he used it, as now, to command attention.  "She said she'd pay for it," he said quietly, his voice cutting through the man's hysteria, "and she will.  Is there anything else?"

The flustered manager was saved from having to respond by one of the stockboys coming up behind him.  "Oh my God, Mr. Menchkyn," he breathed in an awed whisper, "that's Sylph!"

The store manager blinked in confusion, clearly unaware of his guest's celebrity status.  "Ah- that is," he stammered lamely, "the damages are quite extensive- if you can cover it, well, we certainly appreciate your patronage…"

Wade smiled, turning on his not inconsiderable charm like a light.  "Why, thanks, Mr. Menchkyn," he sallied, "why don't you send your damage estimates to Sylph's employer."  He handed the man a card with the words BOGLYN Construction and the name Mike Boglyn along with a phone number.  The man looked at the card blankly.  "I'm betting we can get you a pretty competitive estimate on repairs and maybe throw in some improvements…" Wade offered, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

                                         *****

Carrying a few rather sizable canvas bags that she had taken to using for groceries, Sylph turned apologetically to Wade in the parking lot.  Wade glanced curiously at the titanic girl- woman, really, although he sometimes had trouble remembering that because she was so much shorter than him.

"Sorry about that in there," she grimaced, her shoulders slumping.

Wade cocked his head.  "What for?  Nobody got hurt and it's not like the store's going to lose any money long-term because of this."  He grinned suddenly.  "Heck, if Menchkyn plays it smart, he might even make some money on this deal."  Sylph had gained a small degree of celebrity from her Intranational Vindicators competition and the subsequent donation of a considerable cash prize to the Agape Foundation.  While she was far from a superstar, she was well-known locally and surprisingly popular.

Sylph smiled wryly.  "You're sweet, Wade, but I doubt me doing in-store appearances in a store I nearly wrecked is really going to boost sales."  She snorted in frustration.  "It's so weird!" she sighed, "it's like my muscles have gone into overdrive since I got into college."

She gently flexed her right biceps.  The leather thongs holding the sleeve together stretched and little pinging noises warned her that her custom-tailored t-shirt was near the end of its usable life.  She'd just sewn it a month ago, and she thought she'd made it extra-large…

"Okay," Wade said after a moment.  He gave his head a little shake to help himself focus.  "So… what's really bugging you?  I mean, I thought you loved being big and strong."

"I do, I do," Sylph protested, holding out her hands, "but…"

"But?"

She shrugged again, causing enormous slabs of pectoral muscle and giant pumpkin-shaped deltoids to ripple.  "I dunno," she sighed irritably, "Just forget it."

Wade nodded.  "M-hm," he murmured.  He let the subject drop, but his thoughts kept circling back long after they'd parted.

                                         *****

After dropping her groceries off at home, Sylph puttered around putting things away.  Her phone rang twice, but she ignored it, still feeling a bit out of sorts.  Once her kitchen was squared away, she changed into workout clothes and headed out.

Growing up, Sylph started by training with her mother's weights after seeing her first competitive bodybuilding show at a very young age.  Although her mother had long since retired from the scene, she was still far and away the most powerful woman- or man- Sylph had ever seen.

Sylph far surpassed her mother.  Even at a very young age, it was clear that the girl's body possessed a potential unmatched in the rest of human society.  By the time she was a preteen, she had a muscular physique that outstripped athletes half-again her age.  At thirteen, she could no longer buy clothes off the rack- she was bigger than champion bodybuilders and growing at an incredible rate- and loving it.

She'd always felt at home doing anything physical, but never more than when she was throwing around iron and lead in staggering poundages.  She was less confident socially; while she'd had several girlfriends her age, she'd had trouble relating to boys.  As a teenager, she'd only dated a couple of times and, while they hadn't gone exactly disastrously, they weren't roaring successes, either, and her romantic life had gotten scarcer and bleaker as she got older.

As always, working out sustained her and she grew more massive and stronger through high school and into college.

So why, she wondered as she pulled down on the reinforced cables, wasn't it working now?

She yanked down hard of the reinforced cables of her highly specialized pec-deck, then slowly eased the weight back into position.  She was being resisted not only by the physical weight of the steel discs- 2,000 pounds each, five on a side- but also by the massive electromagnets secured under the foundation of the building.  She grunted as she completed her eighth rep, was sweating hard by the time she'd finished twelve,  yet the weights still rose to the top of the stack with a shattering clang before floating back down to the ground.  She wasn't being as gentle or as controlled as she ought, she realized, noting the dull thud of the weights and puffs of dust from the impact tremors as the plates hit the floor.

She grimaced and shook out her arms.  She kept at it for nearly two hours, but she just couldn't get into it.  Normally, she'd be in the zone ten minutes into her workout, but today it just seemed like the minutes were crawling by.  Sensing that she wasn't really doing herself any good, Sylph toweled down and changed into her street clothes.

"Mrrr?"  The thick head of a heavyset orange tabby pressed insistently against her calves and she squatted down to give the thick, rich fur a thorough scratching.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.  "Not your fault, Fatty," she murmured, "I'm just grumpy."

Although LaFayette generally lounged around Dr. Markolis's lab, he'd recently taken to following Sylph around when she was on campus, probably because she could generally be counted on to have various meat snacks hidden on her person and she was always more than willing to share.  She did so now, pulling a strip of turkey-jerky from her backpack and handing it over to the happily purring feline.

Fatty took the meat snack in his paws and nibbled at it daintily, as if he wasn't a good ten pounds overweight already.  Sylph giggled and the cat looked up at her curiously, a long string of dried turkey dangling from his jaws.

She took his head in her hands and rubbed his furry chin vigorously, much to his delight.  "There you go," she teased the big cat, "you can be my boyfriend.  We don't need anybody else, right?"

She chuckled, feeling a little more herself, pulled another chunk of jerky out of her backpack's stash and lobbed it to Fatty who caught it daintily in midair.  She chuckled and got to her feet.  If she couldn't get a proper workout, she thought, maybe she could at least get some decent work in.

                                         *****

Khalida was waiting for Sylph by the time she pulled up outside her studio.  The dark-haired, dusky-skinned beauty was quickly becoming Sylph's favorite model to work with, despite Khalida's initial reluctance.  In part, it was her dancer's training- she took physical instruction exceptionally well and could hold a pose without moving, generally, for as long as Sylph needed.

The fact that she was, by any objective measure, stunningly exquisite didn't hurt, either, Sylph thought to herself with a slight, rueful pang of jealousy.  Khalida didn't really date very much, but she could, easily.  If she wanted, she could be fighting off boys with a stick.

Only way I'm likely to get a date, Sylph thought to herself, is if I kidnap the guy and tie him up in the back of my truck.  She snorted at the idea.  It presented an amusing visual, but she just couldn't really picture herself ever being that aggressive with anyone, even as a joke.

Sylph opened up the garage door that served as the entrance to her studio.  Inside the entry, the actual space was a bit odd; Sylph had started with a two-story garage she'd bought on the cheap from her boss, then torn out the ceiling.  She'd built in a gallery so she'd still have a space to work on more traditional projects, bricked over the windows, added lights on stands and tracks, and hidden a variety of props and painted backdrops against the back of the room.  Despite the size of the room- 12 feet wide and 24 feet wide with eighteen foot ceilings- it still felt a bit on the crowded size when Sylph was moving around inside and working.

Khalida followed her big friend in.  "So…?" she inquired raising her eyebrow as Sylph stood, staring blankly.

"Hm?"

"What's the plan, Stan?" she teased.  When Sylph still looked blank, she added, "What's cooking, good-lookin'?  The story, morning-glo-"  She stopped because Sylph had started crying.

"Hey, hey- it's okay," she said, stepping over and grabbing Sylph's hand, "What happened?"

"It's nothing," Sylph sniffled, swiping an enormous forearm under her nose, "it's stupid."

"Uh-uh," Khalida countered, "you don't get to go all weepy on me and tell me nothing's wrong.  Something's wrong…"

Sylph shook her head mutely.

"Don't make me play twenty questions, Sylph.  I'm your friend and I'm gonna fig-"

"I WANT A BOYFRIEND!" Sylph bawled.

Khalida gaped at her friend, mouth hanging open, utterly incapable of finding the right thing- or anything- to say.  After a long moment, staring at each other, Sylph started to giggle and Khalida started breathing again.

"That's it?" she asked, snickering.

"I told you it was stupid," Sylph averred between giggling fits, "and it's not funny!"

Khalida shook her head and tried to catch her breath.

"I mean," Sylph groused, "it's easy for you- boys practically fall all over themselves trying to ask you out…"

Khalida thought about telling Sylph about how much time she spent every morning making herself presentable, but decided that wasn't the point.  Instead, she grimaced.  "Yeah," she agreed, "emphasis on 'boys'."

Sylph sniffled.

"Have you tried," Khalida inquired, "actually asking someone out?"

Sylph shook her head.

"Well, duh, then, dummy," Khalida snorted, "no wonder you don't get dates."

Sylph shook her head.  "It's not like I haven't thought about it," she admitted, "but… what normal guy would want to go out with someone like me?"  She waved a hand demonstrably at her massive physique; giant muscles had to get out of the way of other inhumanly-sized slabs of beef just to allow the simple movement.  Khalida opened her mouth, but Sylph bulled on before she could interrupt.  "I mean, schmoes, sure, but… I don't want someone who only looks at me because I can bench press a battle tank."

"Probably going to have to get used to the idea that the man for you is going to be at least a little infatuated with your physicality," Khalida noted dryly.

"Yeah, I guess," Sylph shrugged, "but it seems like the choices are 'loves my muscles and doesn't care about the me' and the alternative, where the guy is afraid I'm gonna turn into some sort of raging muscle monster."

"Hey Sylph," a light voice came from the entrance to her studio, "anybody ever mention you're an idiot?"

Sylph's eyes went wide.  "Wade?" she gulped, turning around.

Khalida rolled her eyes.  "She's the idiot?" she tossed back, "You've been mooning after her for over a year and she's the idiot?"

Wade winced.  "Touché," he admitted.  Sylph's blush went clear to her roots.

"All right, you two," Khalida growled fiercely, "do it right, this time, or I'ma whap the both of you!"

"Well, I wanted to, but-" Wade began, but Khalida frowned at him and held up a finger.  He sighed.  "Um…

"Sylph?" he tried, "I'm sorry for calling you an idiot- I meant that as a friend-" he caught the warning look in Khalida's eye and hurried on.  "I- well, would you wanna go out with me?  I have tickets to Strawberry Fields this Sunday…"

"But," Sylph began, "I don't want you to take me out just 'cause Khalida's making you…"  The Mediterranean woman rolled her eyes, walked up behind her friend and smacked her in the back of the head.  "Ow!" Sylph complained.

"Quit being stubborn," her friend ordered.  "He's had those tickets for a week and he's been trying to figure out how to ask you; sometimes everybody needs a push."

"Or a kick in the ass," Wade agreed under his breath.

Sylph blinked.  "Um… in that case," she said, chewing her lip shyly, "um… yes!"
This chapter's been a long time in coming- literally years, mainly because I simply couldn't get either Sylph or Wade to give me the full scoop, so I had to just keep pecking away at them to get the details. I mean, I got some general descriptions, but I guess they were both a little embarrassed about how bone-headed they'd been. Fortunately, I chanced to run into Khalida at a Whole Foods while I was visiting my folks in Michigan, and she filled in enough details that I was able to weasel the rest out of them.

For those of you expecting a lot of action and flexing and muscle-worship and whatnot, well, I apologize. That just wasn't in the cards for this story. Wade ensures me that the story of their first date more than makes up for it, though, so I'm looking forward to that when I can pry some more free time out of Sylph's (and my) schedule.

I want to thank Satsuruo in particular for putting up with my exceptionally slow turnaround on this story- he's been asking for it since I started posting these narratives over on Amaz0ns...

The cover art was by Kulli- I commissioned the piece ages ago and I'm still planning on doing a story where I can discuss a bit about her enjoyment of physical activities other than weightlifting- and colored by alphatango.

The Previous chapter is here:  Sylph Chapter 12 part 3
Ralf drove Sylph, Tetsuko, Sonya, Wade and Khalida up to the same warehouse that FOY had purchased to use as a heavy duty gymnasium for the girls.  He brought the van in close to the front doors and hopped out.
“Be extra cautious,” Sonya warned them, “Slade’s certain to know we’re coming for him by now, and he’ll have had time to get ready.”
Sylph nodded soberly.  “After seeing what he did to the show, I don’t wanna know what he’d do when he wasn’t trying to be subtle.”
“It’s like a comic book,” Ralf joked nervously, “To Hell with subtle.  Let’s get ‘im!”
Tetsuko stepped in front, clearly marking her place in front of the group, raising a small protest from Sylph.  “Uh-uh, Sylph,” she answered quietly.  “I know Slade already and, no offence, but I’m pretty sure I’m tougher than you.  I can take a bullet- can
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