Her Body of Muscle: Winter vs the Nanobots

Chapter 23

Jackson, somehow, managed to occupy the unfocused moments increasingly as time passed. Instead of the memories fading, Winter's continued introverted tendency towards isolation seemed to vivify his memory. She could not help but reexamine her almost involuntary reflex to push him away. She realized now it was not his doing. Instead, it was her own unwillingness to deal with pain and potential rejection that was the true culprit.

In a comically ironic way, her "bodyguard"/stalker, as she increasingly thought of him, became Winter's singular outlet against her onslaught of Jackson regret. At first, she had found it humorous to hunt down Dave's poorly hidden vehicle in the corner of a parking garage or at the far end of the street and hand him a coffee or red bull with a wink and a devious laugh. Watching his shocked face, mouth agape reaction never got old. Somehow, the massive brute after a year of Winter's mockery, could not wrap his mind around his surveyed victim actually knowing he was watching her.
Maybe it would have gotten old for Winter herself, except the massive man was ridiculously beautiful in a sort of cardboard action hero cutout way. It was an apt comparison; he was nearly as stupid as a piece of cardboard. Toying with her control over his psychological state was just plain hilarious. Any guilt she felt in the act was erased by the mere recollection of the diabolical nature of the organization he represented, having no qualms with killing two people for god-knows-what reason.

Everything about Dave was painfully broadcast for anyone with a grade school level of emotional intelligence. It was hard for Winter not to be a little pleased as she noticed he kept the window rolled down far more often than he did at first. Pasty large flat eyes ogling her as she sauntered up to his window. Glancing back over her shoulder, she'd smile duplicitously as he watched her go, both bemused and flattered but also a little annoyed at his juvenile brashness.
Hot summers gave more opportunity for her devilish games. After an excruciating workout, she'd walk powerfully up to his window draped in her now even more baggy sweatpants and shirt. Her musculature pinning and draping the abundant fabric like a steel column supporting a massive flag fluttering violently in the breeze. Handing him a cold beverage, she would say something blatantly obvious into his salivating eyes.

"Hot day, Dave, I'm sweating just walking over here. When are you going to park a little closer?" Knowing full well his eyes were plastered to each little sliver of skin that showed itself, she would dutifully and ever so slowly pull her sweatshirt over her head, a loose silky t-shirt clinging to the fabric, exposing massive tight abs as she did so. The baggy sweatpants hanging low supported more by the strength and girth of her upper thigh muscles than her waist. Struggling to get even the loose fabric over her wide lats with arms overhead, she would finally accomplish the project, separating the sweatshirt from her body as well as the static of the t-shirt underneath. The loose shirt fell back over her momentarily exposed midsection. The arms of the t-shirt pinned against broad muscular shoulders, tapering like an almost translucent wetsuit to vibrant powerful arms. The V-neck t-shirt swooping down between her massive breasts exposing soft flesh hovering deliciously above the deep sinewed muscle of her chest. Still slightly sweaty from a workout, perspiration quietly formed on Winter's collarbone as it streaked down and out of sight below her cleavage.

"My gawd..." Winter would protest. "Still hot. This is nuts right?!"

Repeating the motion, this time with her t-shirt, she would pull it expertly over her head, letting her long hair fall back as she caulked her head back, chin high in the air exposing the soft vulnerable skin of her neck. The thin straps of a sports bra somehow magically holding her massive boobs perkily, glistening as flesh reflected the sun, covering little beyond excited nipples and shivering areolas.

"A little better..." Winter wined and put hands on hips, stretching her shapely powerful glutes behind her, torquing her waist one way and her broad shoulders the other. Next, pulling arms up over her head stretching and yawning into the sunshine a mere foot from Dave's open window. Yawn and flexing stretch complete. Winter would bring her arms down, posing in a slight double bicep as she did so. Hands returning to hips, she guided the baggy sweatpants off with several sensual wriggles. Kicking the fabric off her ankles, she was left standing with only tight booty shorts, squeezing desperately against her massive backside.

"Ok, that feels better..." She'd breath relieved.
The sight of Dave's gaping stupid face. It flushed her with excitement every time. From her angle, she could see his tight khaki pants between his legs protesting as something snaked and grew, pushing out the fabric of his security guard attire. The first time she saw it, it took her a little by surprise. It was just so massive, it was impossible to ignore. Damn, that's impressive. She whistled to herself silently. More than once, she had noticed an embarrassing wet mark as the poor young meathead tried to control his overwhelming lust. You're terrible. Winter found herself thinking every time, but it was hard to help herself. It was both a cathartic way to get back at this mysterious group while affirming the delicious fruits of her own labors.

"I'll see you around Dave." She would finish, turning to go. Winter would fling her head away first, whipping her hair behind, and then twisting hips to follow. Her back barely tempered by the thin bra straps, only magnified the masterful etching of musculature, desperately stretching the bra's fabric across her mid-back. She did not have to look back to confirm he was watching every tiny subtle torque of her hips as she walked. The flexing of her rippling lower back on one side of her body then the next with each step. Her calves exploding and punching the victimized air with each toe strike as her hamstrings quivered and streaked. Winter's butt balled into a furious tension, with deep side ravines on each cheek that enhanced the shelf of muscle at the top of each glute. First the desperate tight shorts strained to contain a flexing right butt cheek, then the left, on painfully provocative repeat as she strode powerfully away.

The pure visceral stimulation that seemed to be a man's mind, particularly a juvenile one like Dave's, fascinated Winter. While she could understand the boundless mesmerizing intoxication of art and aesthetic beauty, the role it played for men seemed something other. Unchecked, attraction seemingly became to a man an all-consuming unquenchable fire of desire. The fire could be stoked and prodded with nearly puppet-master precision, and it only became extinguishable one primal way.

Dave afforded her the opportunity to train her own ability to contort and manipulate with tremendous precision. Her body lent a chilling power that she increasingly viewed both as exciting as it was terrifying. With each rep, set, increase in dumbbell weight, Winter realized she was the embodiment of something deeper in terms of sexual appeal. The biggest frustration for Winter was that it simply did not work in reverse – or, more to the point, that was not the motivation behind her relentless drive for improvement. For her, almost nightly orgasmic arousal was less a function of enjoyment of her body, as it was a representation of the joy of the work it took to get there. It was a celebration, in a sense, of the relationship she had with the effort required as much as the form and beauty it had produced.

As time passed, it was a the dream of a genuine relationship with someone that became more her romantic dream. Finding a willingness for someone to look beyond her physical attractiveness and care about her, and not their fatal attraction. Now that, she realized, would warrant a genuine relationship. Winter wanted her body to be an explosive opportunity to express a deep mutual love and trust, not the reason for the fireworks of sexual nirvana to begin with. And that meant Jackson. The one man who had avoided the ogling all along, preferring the person. In the absence of another, he remained a painfully slowly dying ember of a sacred memory in her soul. Maybe distance does make the heart grow fonder... Winter thought, more than once, as a spasming orgasm faded into deep slumber.

Winter's toying with Dave was fun, like a quick adrenaline hit. But it felt like her undulating interest in people's attention in general. She loved her almost monk-like focus. The level of clarity and healing that had transpired was undeniable. There was a refreshing predictability and mental stamina that had developed. But attention to her ever more time immemorably impressive physique was nearly unavoidable. Initially, following her break with Jackson, she had carefully guarded her progress from all onlookers. There had been a stretch where she had literally padded down her clothing for a globo-gym visit with pillows to try to simply look overweight. It had worked, in a way. But as her isolation extended, so also did her pent-up sexual energy.

She toyed with being less guarded in the gym. The almost constant cheesy pick-up lines and professions of ridiculous love she got from other regulars, both men and women, seemed like they would help scratch the itch. They had not. It wasn't lust she coveted but, well, something real. Love. And while the fawning and slobbering that followed her seemingly proportional to the amount of muscle she built and skin she showcased, satiated her longing for intimacy in the moment, she found herself in the same place every evening. Imagining Jackson, simply sitting next to her, arm around her broad shoulders, staring ever so slightly down into her eyes and simply asking: "How are you?"