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Description
The Beginning
Amy Jyn sighs happily and pops another pair of Hot Pockets down in rapid succession. It's amazing how many people are willing to buy her things just for an up-close and personal encounter-- very personal if she thinks they're cute-- with muscles like hers, and as for her cam show, well… It isn't going to be long before she could leave this three-room, one bedroom apartment.

Honestly, with the cash she's been getting, she could have left a week ago, but a lifetime of being ground down has left her without the impression that immediate effort or long-term planning are useful in any way.

She smiled at herself, bringing her telephone-pole-thick left arm up to level with her very-boulder boulder-shoulder, and then pumped her fist, trying to ignore the dust and wallpaper fragments already starting to shake and fall. Tucking her fist right back towards the bowling-ball sized bulge of her biceps and triceps-- forget twenty-four inch pythons; Amy's are twenty-seven…

Or rather, were, when at rest, before she curled her arm up and back, making the peaks rise like a volcano. There should be a growling sound-- well, there is, it's just not coming from her arm rising from the sea like a mountain-- to accompany the rise of such muscular might. Her whole body is ripped; just one thigh is as broad as the average man's waist

Taking a moment to enjoy the sight of her muscles, Amy leans over to kiss her bicep. She sighs happily as she sinks back, the sigh turning into a grimace as the growling starts. She tries to ignore it, thinking about how it all came together to finally work out her way.

IT'S, IT'S COMING OUT!

It was the In-Ordinate Mints that did the trick, Amy is pretty sure. Either her sudden growth to a better-than-bodybuilder size-- plus a rack and ass you don't generally see on that kind of frame without surgery-- and stress-eating her whole box was a total coincidence to the transformation or…

Cause and effect.

Before, she was a five-four, overweight latina with a deadend job, a series of poor life choices, far too much student debt, and a deep personal grudge against a world--

VIOLENCE IS NOW A WAY OF LIFE!

… A deep personal grudge against a world that she was absolutely, totally sure was--

THE SLEDGE'S MY TOOL TO TORTURE!

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Amy snarls, leaping to her feet and heading towards the phone to call up the lazy-ass building super. The building shakes even more than the bad cover band trying Hammer Smashed Face and only succeeding in mutilating it further; her body is actually denser per cubic inch than it was when she was chubby-- by far.

But her body really is so spectacular. Big, bulging lines of brawn that follow the ideal lines for this new form, rather than being bloated; smooth, taut skin, glossy and healthy as anything-- years of cheap food, erased from just... well, cheap food, honestly, but this time, it was worth the stomach cramps. And these abs!

SUFFER… THEN YOU DIE!

About the only weird thing is the greening effect. There's a bit of green under the brown in her skin tone, her eyes turned from hazel to green, and her hair went from "dishwater blonde" (light brown) to a green-white-blue thing. Because mints, apparently?

Honestly, she'd be pretty happy just sitting here, sucking down her favorite meals with a metabolism for which four times her old consumption rate still leaves her stomach growling, and occasionally showing off in front of the webcam. She hasn't even bothered to buy new clothes since the biggest ones she had mostly shredded when she grew a little bit more in them, and didn't watch what her thighs and lats were doing. She could be just fine without any further changes in her life, except maybe getting bigger.

But-- again-- whatever far-too-growly band Jack Peters is "into" this week is apparently insufficiently shouty, because he turns the volume up again… again. Making her teeth grind. Again.

She isn't sure whether Jack-- the dick next door-- is the cousin or son of the super, or what's going on there. She's sent notes, she's complained to mister "Did you put a poster up? That blue stuff can strip the wallpaper!"-but-never-fixes-the-showers, she's hammered the walls (more carefully now because she wouldn't want to break through, would she?

Maybe I should see if flexing at the super can get him to do his damn jo-- Her huge, powerful hand closes on the handle of the phone. Then she grins ferociously…

And lets it go.

---

BOOMcrackcrackcrack! Even Jack Peters's stupid stereo-- probably bought with a credit card or from some shady place, it looks way too nice for a guy like him-- can't drown out her somewhat clumsy punch through the wall. Not because her new body is anything but amazing athletically, but because she's never really punched anything she didn't want destroyed utterly since she got the new bod, and she doesn't want to take out the whole thing.

And she could, too-- that was barely a tap.. Every muscle on her body-- and it's really easy to see them given that her clothes are almost half as shredded as she is-- glistens under glossy, lustrous skin, but as it pumps and bulges, deep striations line each one.

"What the fuck?" he shouts, not even bothering to get his ass out of the chair, though she can barely hear that over the "music." Amy supposes she should yell something about a Slim Jim or quote the Kool-Aid Man but she can't be bothered.

The hole isn't quite big enough, so she lazily smacks the right side of it, ducks her head, multicolored hair brushing the jagged top, and lifts the treetrunk power of her incredible right thigh up-- and brings it over.

BOOM! "TURN THE FUCKING MUSIC DOWN, JACK!" she shouts, trying to cover up her own surprise as her heel nearly goes through the floor.

"You crazy bitch!" he shouts-- still not bothering to get up, like she's some chick from a superhero flick and he can just yell her away. "You broke my fucking wall!"

"My wall, asshole. And you're going to be the one to get the super--"

"Uncle Bob will have you thr--"

Oh, a nephew. Amy stomps forward and kicks his couch, too, knocking the disgusting, stained thing top over bottom into a tumble against the outside wall-- narrowly missing the radiator.

That gets him quiet, shrinking back,and staring. She points at the stereo and makes a slicing motion across her neck. Jack fumbles with the remote but complies. "You can't--"

Sneering, she marches forward, the sculpted pillars of her legs barging with more muscle than he's ever had in his life-- summed-up by itself, year to year. A single toe nudges his endtable off end over end, rattling the wall just behind him and to the side as it impacts. He all but leaps back in his seat, hands going high.

Outside, there's a bunch of running feet around, but she's come too far too back down now. All she has to do is raise one fist, just one fist, and he shuts the fuck up. Of course, she tightens up the fist and flexes real big, just like that one perv wanted her to do at the camera two days ago. The sudden monstrous bicep bulge and forearm force probably helps with the intimidation factor.

"You will get 'Uncle Bob' to fix the fucking wall while I'm out shopping tomorrow, Jack, or neither of you will like what I do next," Amy snarls, a bit flustered. She's been loud and aggressively assertive before, but that usually just meant forgetting that Tiana Richardson owned the local grocery store and asking to see her manager, then threatening to call corporate for the chain. Actually threatening someone...

Thankfully, the little wimp apologizes quick.

"That's right," she tells him, cutting through his panic. "You kept playing this trashy cover band bullshit-- you're as metal as a plastic sword, you know that, right?-- ungodly loud, now you're going to fix it."

Turning around, she puts a bit extra squeeze in her glutes and a little bit of extra power in her hamstrings as she moves. Then she twists her neck and craggy back, her traps bulging dangerously as she looks over her shoulder. Jack's eyes widen, his hands trembling as the weight from his own arms is too much to hold up this long.

"Oh, and since I'm so fucking nice," Amy says with a smirk, "I'lll let you cover the hole with your sheet, provided you get it now, it's relatively, clean, and then I'll put put that shitty couch up to block the hole, you perv, rather than making you get the fuck out and live with 'Uncle Bob' until the work is done-- tomorrow, while I'm shopping. Around noon or whatever, get it right."

He babbles something about only having one clean set, but she doesn't care. By the time she's turned back to head in her apartment and eat more greasy food while staring angrily at him-- hey, take your fun where you can, right?-- the cheers and applause have broken out all throughout the hall-- it sounds like everyone from no less than the near three floors has come down to hear Jack finally, finally get what's coming to him.

I could get used to this hero business…

---

Next

A series that was commissioned, story and pics, but Amy Jyn was granted incredible powers by a box of suspiciously tainted mints, but so far, she's mainly been camgirling it and living it up. There are no other superhumans to speak of on her Earth-- which makes the origins of those mints even more suspicious-- but Amy's got a lot more in store, for everyone.

Because she's still getting stronger.

Commissions are temporarily closed while I get some things settled in my life and take care of what I owe the last person who has been very patiently waiting for my RL drama to get together.

Description
The Beginning
Amy Jyn sighs happily and pops another pair of Hot Pockets down in rapid succession. It's amazing how many people are willing to buy her things just for an up-close and personal encounter-- very personal if she thinks they're cute-- with muscles like hers, and as for her cam show, well… It isn't going to be long before she could leave this three-room, one bedroom apartment.

Honestly, with the cash she's been getting, she could have left a week ago, but a lifetime of being ground down has left her without the impression that immediate effort or long-term planning are useful in any way.

She smiled at herself, bringing her telephone-pole-thick left arm up to level with her very-boulder boulder-shoulder, and then pumped her fist, trying to ignore the dust and wallpaper fragments already starting to shake and fall. Tucking her fist right back towards the bowling-ball sized bulge of her biceps and triceps-- forget twenty-four inch pythons; Amy's are twenty-seven…

Or rather, were, when at rest, before she curled her arm up and back, making the peaks rise like a volcano. There should be a growling sound-- well, there is, it's just not coming from her arm rising from the sea like a mountain-- to accompany the rise of such muscular might. Her whole body is ripped; just one thigh is as broad as the average man's waist

Taking a moment to enjoy the sight of her muscles, Amy leans over to kiss her bicep. She sighs happily as she sinks back, the sigh turning into a grimace as the growling starts. She tries to ignore it, thinking about how it all came together to finally work out her way.

IT'S, IT'S COMING OUT!

It was the In-Ordinate Mints that did the trick, Amy is pretty sure. Either her sudden growth to a better-than-bodybuilder size-- plus a rack and ass you don't generally see on that kind of frame without surgery-- and stress-eating her whole box was a total coincidence to the transformation or…

Cause and effect.

Before, she was a five-four, overweight latina with a deadend job, a series of poor life choices, far too much student debt, and a deep personal grudge against a world--

VIOLENCE IS NOW A WAY OF LIFE!

… A deep personal grudge against a world that she was absolutely, totally sure was--

THE SLEDGE'S MY TOOL TO TORTURE!

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Amy snarls, leaping to her feet and heading towards the phone to call up the lazy-ass building super. The building shakes even more than the bad cover band trying Hammer Smashed Face and only succeeding in mutilating it further; her body is actually denser per cubic inch than it was when she was chubby-- by far.

But her body really is so spectacular. Big, bulging lines of brawn that follow the ideal lines for this new form, rather than being bloated; smooth, taut skin, glossy and healthy as anything-- years of cheap food, erased from just... well, cheap food, honestly, but this time, it was worth the stomach cramps. And these abs!

SUFFER… THEN YOU DIE!

About the only weird thing is the greening effect. There's a bit of green under the brown in her skin tone, her eyes turned from hazel to green, and her hair went from "dishwater blonde" (light brown) to a green-white-blue thing. Because mints, apparently?

Honestly, she'd be pretty happy just sitting here, sucking down her favorite meals with a metabolism for which four times her old consumption rate still leaves her stomach growling, and occasionally showing off in front of the webcam. She hasn't even bothered to buy new clothes since the biggest ones she had mostly shredded when she grew a little bit more in them, and didn't watch what her thighs and lats were doing. She could be just fine without any further changes in her life, except maybe getting bigger.

But-- again-- whatever far-too-growly band Jack Peters is "into" this week is apparently insufficiently shouty, because he turns the volume up again… again. Making her teeth grind. Again.

She isn't sure whether Jack-- the dick next door-- is the cousin or son of the super, or what's going on there. She's sent notes, she's complained to mister "Did you put a poster up? That blue stuff can strip the wallpaper!"-but-never-fixes-the-showers, she's hammered the walls (more carefully now because she wouldn't want to break through, would she?

Maybe I should see if flexing at the super can get him to do his damn jo-- Her huge, powerful hand closes on the handle of the phone. Then she grins ferociously…

And lets it go.

---

BOOMcrackcrackcrack! Even Jack Peters's stupid stereo-- probably bought with a credit card or from some shady place, it looks way too nice for a guy like him-- can't drown out her somewhat clumsy punch through the wall. Not because her new body is anything but amazing athletically, but because she's never really punched anything she didn't want destroyed utterly since she got the new bod, and she doesn't want to take out the whole thing.

And she could, too-- that was barely a tap.. Every muscle on her body-- and it's really easy to see them given that her clothes are almost half as shredded as she is-- glistens under glossy, lustrous skin, but as it pumps and bulges, deep striations line each one.

"What the fuck?" he shouts, not even bothering to get his ass out of the chair, though she can barely hear that over the "music." Amy supposes she should yell something about a Slim Jim or quote the Kool-Aid Man but she can't be bothered.

The hole isn't quite big enough, so she lazily smacks the right side of it, ducks her head, multicolored hair brushing the jagged top, and lifts the treetrunk power of her incredible right thigh up-- and brings it over.

BOOM! "TURN THE FUCKING MUSIC DOWN, JACK!" she shouts, trying to cover up her own surprise as her heel nearly goes through the floor.

"You crazy bitch!" he shouts-- still not bothering to get up, like she's some chick from a superhero flick and he can just yell her away. "You broke my fucking wall!"

"My wall, asshole. And you're going to be the one to get the super--"

"Uncle Bob will have you thr--"

Oh, a nephew. Amy stomps forward and kicks his couch, too, knocking the disgusting, stained thing top over bottom into a tumble against the outside wall-- narrowly missing the radiator.

That gets him quiet, shrinking back,and staring. She points at the stereo and makes a slicing motion across her neck. Jack fumbles with the remote but complies. "You can't--"

Sneering, she marches forward, the sculpted pillars of her legs barging with more muscle than he's ever had in his life-- summed-up by itself, year to year. A single toe nudges his endtable off end over end, rattling the wall just behind him and to the side as it impacts. He all but leaps back in his seat, hands going high.

Outside, there's a bunch of running feet around, but she's come too far too back down now. All she has to do is raise one fist, just one fist, and he shuts the fuck up. Of course, she tightens up the fist and flexes real big, just like that one perv wanted her to do at the camera two days ago. The sudden monstrous bicep bulge and forearm force probably helps with the intimidation factor.

"You will get 'Uncle Bob' to fix the fucking wall while I'm out shopping tomorrow, Jack, or neither of you will like what I do next," Amy snarls, a bit flustered. She's been loud and aggressively assertive before, but that usually just meant forgetting that Tiana Richardson owned the local grocery store and asking to see her manager, then threatening to call corporate for the chain. Actually threatening someone...

Thankfully, the little wimp apologizes quick.

"That's right," she tells him, cutting through his panic. "You kept playing this trashy cover band bullshit-- you're as metal as a plastic sword, you know that, right?-- ungodly loud, now you're going to fix it."

Turning around, she puts a bit extra squeeze in her glutes and a little bit of extra power in her hamstrings as she moves. Then she twists her neck and craggy back, her traps bulging dangerously as she looks over her shoulder. Jack's eyes widen, his hands trembling as the weight from his own arms is too much to hold up this long.

"Oh, and since I'm so fucking nice," Amy says with a smirk, "I'lll let you cover the hole with your sheet, provided you get it now, it's relatively, clean, and then I'll put put that shitty couch up to block the hole, you perv, rather than making you get the fuck out and live with 'Uncle Bob' until the work is done-- tomorrow, while I'm shopping. Around noon or whatever, get it right."

He babbles something about only having one clean set, but she doesn't care. By the time she's turned back to head in her apartment and eat more greasy food while staring angrily at him-- hey, take your fun where you can, right?-- the cheers and applause have broken out all throughout the hall-- it sounds like everyone from no less than the near three floors has come down to hear Jack finally, finally get what's coming to him.

I could get used to this hero business…

---

Next

A series that was commissioned, story and pics, but Amy Jyn was granted incredible powers by a box of suspiciously tainted mints, but so far, she's mainly been camgirling it and living it up. There are no other superhumans to speak of on her Earth-- which makes the origins of those mints even more suspicious-- but Amy's got a lot more in store, for everyone.

Because she's still getting stronger.

Commissions are temporarily closed while I get some things settled in my life and take care of what I owe the last person who has been very patiently waiting for my RL drama to get together.