“Max, could you be a dear and get these weights off my ankles, please?” She said in a motherly tone. Her massive pecs pressed against the top end of her drenched shirt as they seamlessly led into her massive, striated shoulders. She continued to hold herself in the air as her 26-inch biceps quivered above her bulbous forearms and pumped-up deltoids. Her abs and legs stayed perfectly flexed as she slowly reached the end of her so-called leg-day routine. Each of her 24-inch calves was split into two solidified pyramids harder than steel that pierced the air below her legs as she pointed her toes. Her hamstring muscles formed light domes pointing towards the floor despite being fully stretched out. Strands of potent beef surrounded concentrated bundles of encapsulated strength that jutted outwards at all times. My mom’s 35-inch thighs barely being covered by her increasingly damp shorts, which were the only other piece of clothing she was wearing, flexed to their absolute limits whenever she swiftly lifted her legs parallel to the ground. I could feel the heat radiating from her abs down to her massive thighs and calves despite standing a few feet away from her. I watched as each smooth rectangular grouping of pumped-up mass visibly stretched beneath the cloth of her shirt with the lowering of her legs and contracted fervently with their ascension. Sweat continuously dripped down her bulging six-pack abs and everything below as they pushed against a tight, blue t-shirt she was wearing.
“456, 457, 458, 459, 460, 461…” my mom whispered to herself while her eyes were shut tight with her mind focused on the grueling task she was currently performing. The 6’ 5’’ tall woman exercising intensely before me had 25-lb ankle weights strapped to each of her thick ankles as she rapidly raised and lowered her muscular legs in quick repetition for her captain’s chair leg raise sets. I watched as my mom effortlessly suspended herself in midair in the vertical knee raise station she had bought for our family’s, well… basically her own personal, home gym. And despite all the muscles laden across her massive frame, she still retained her unadulterated femininity.
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Genes producing copious amounts of testosterone and MSTN proteins eventually turned my mom into the tall, ripped bodybuilder working out in front of me that exceeded the limits plaguing most professional heavyweight male bodybuilders.
My mom exercised every so often when she wasn’t trying to do well in her studies, but her bodybuilding journey really ramped up when she found out that she had the perfect genes to develop a body previously unheard of in the female fitness world at the age of 18. She longed to turn herself into a muscle-bound goddess like the gorgeous women on the numerous bodybuilding shows she watched. Her long-lasting muscle lust was further exacerbated when she discovered that female bodybuilders existed when she was nine. She always intently watched each striation visible to the naked eye bundle into rock-hard masses somehow laying on top of a human body.
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She loved watching bodybuilders on TV flex their bulging muscles in glamorous contests. My mom had always been obsessed with muscles when she was young.
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