Winter's pursuit of female muscle triggers unprecedented growth. But she's caught in the crosshairs of a major tech acquisition with perplexing, mysterious and increasingly dangerous complications. Can an impossibly beautiful woman devote herself...
Pursue your passion and work becomes play. Or so at least she had been told. It always felt like such a colloquialism. But after receiving her final paycheck in the mail and a studio apartment paid for through twelve months, Winter had nothing to lose. She threw herself headfirst into learning. At the Warehouse, she absorbed every kernel tossed her direction. From supplements to recovery, drop sets to split routines. rock bottom had given Winter an opportunity. Either wallow in resignation or push in.
After months of repetition she started to wonder if her old clunker could have found its own way to the gym. Weeks ago winter had turned off her alarm as her schedule turned into clockwork. Bed by 9pm, up at six, a protein rich breakfast mixed with healthy fats and balanced carbohydrates. There was always something more to learn and she dove in headfirst over post breakfast coffee.
Always one to excel with study, she went right for the uncompromising hard science of body anatomy. If she was going to be her own experiment, she figured, she had better know the basics. The more she read, the more she started to respect her own attraction to feminine muscularity. At its core, while men certainly had different inherent biological constructions, it became glaringly transparent that there were far more anatomical differences simply in body type and natural chemistry, than when generally just segmented by one's sex.
Muscularity and strength had never been a male birthright. Societal preconceived notions clearly became more an evolution of male chauvinism and superiority complexes rather than a biological mandate.
Having quit her job the day after her first workout at the Warehouse, Winter would head to the gym for a lift. Slowly, her intensity and workout length elongated. It raised eyebrows and surprised herself. More than one hardened gym vet sat her down early on explaining the benefits or rest and over-exertion. Winter agreed completely, so often less is more, particularly when pushing towards utter muscular fatigue. She found, however, that her body was unusually adept at suffering. She could spend nearly three minutes under extreme pressure, isolating eccentric motion and yet sufficiently recover to blast the same muscle group 90 seconds later.
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Still, she reserved two days a week for complete rest and relaxation. Her changing composition happened more slowly and, if she were honest, after several months left her heartily frustrated. While her body fat dropped steady at first, it hovered between fifteen and twenty for months on end. Despite her quickly accelerating anatomical knowledge, she couldn't help but expect significant muscle growth. Instead, two months of relentless consistency and she'd lost 40 pounds and build a physique that resembled more a middle distance sprinter than the magnificently muscles woman she emulated at the gym.
After increasingly long and intense morning sessions, she'd return home to more study and a steady diet of chicken, rice and vegetables. Remarkably, minor variations in spice choices, or cooking methods, made a world of difference. Still monotonous, however, Winter's ferocious self motivation steadied any boredom. What's more, the sensation she had falling to sleep in the evening, knowing she'd not just worked her body but fed it to peak performance, left a transcendent feeling of satisfaction. Well worth the sacrifice. Of course, at least once a week she left it all out there and spent all afternoon cooking with YouTube workout videos blaring in the background. A one week feast seemed to continue to fuel a burning metabolism and balance out the monotony.
