Muscle Comes With Age | Chapter 1 | New Neighbours

by amnoartist95


The Nelson's move next door to Sinead.

 
"average"      "muscular"      "tremendous strength"      "no sexual content"      "english"      "female outmuscling male"      "flexing/posing"      "no violence"      "teenager"      "adult"      "within family/relatives"      "parent and child"      "third person perspective"     


Muscle Comes With Age
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 1: New Neighbours

Spring had finally arrived and Sinead couldn’t possibly have been happier knowing that. The winter that just past was regarded the worst in the last five years. There was no doubting that.

But positively, today was much different. The long-haired blonde felt the first rays of spring sunlight grace her cheeks as she lay back on the deckchair in a stylish bikini top, undies and a pair of sunglasses. She had the sense to oil up first; her skin shone a golden hue and seemed to sparkle with each breath she took.

To her immediate right within arm’s length was a small varnished deck table with a small glass of wine. She wasn’t even the legal age to drink, but that didn’t hinder the young woman’s ability to take matters into her own hands and do it before then. But with a few years’ practice under her waist, she’d developed the willpower to hold her drink well enough. She was just lucky enough to be alone for now.

She flexed her toes as she turned the page of her book, birds hiding in the trees tweeting mutedly in sync with her contented sigh before taking a sip from her glass. The neighbours to her right were in the middle of having some well-deserved laughs after the gruelling winter by playing in the blow-up pool. Sinead offered a brisk grin as she watched Darcy, the youngest member of the family at four; giddily bounce across the grass from the front door, reminded of how she acted as a kid her age.

The house to the left, though… well, there weren’t any. Not since Sinead’s friend Kate left a few months back unexpectedly. Well, maybe not “unexpectedly,” rather suddenly. Her father wasn’t so caring as usual and, well, things took a nasty turn, prompting Kate and her mother to leave. The father, Jim, left not only after – hopefully leaving Kate and her mother alone.

With her typically bouncy steps Darcy giggled as she offered Sinead the first dandelion of spring over the fence, her cheeks rosy and dimpled as always. “Look, Sinead! A dandee… dandee…”

Sinead took the flower from Darcy and smiled, twirling it within the smooth velvetiness of her thumb and index finger, and then turned back to the raven-haired girl before her. “A dandelion? Why, thank you, Darcy. I shall cherish it and put it somewhere safe.”

Darcy nodded with an open-mouthed smile. “C-C-cherrish, she repeated” before darting off back to the pool.

Sinead looked at the flower once more, this time more carefully. Darcy gave her a flower at least once every week, and Sinead always put them in a box in her room. It was just a shame they always died.

Placing the small bud on the deck table, she returned to her book when a removal truck turned sharply, the container unit on its back fishtailing and whipping round the corner. It was larger than most other removal trucks; three times the usual width and lugged along the street as two other vehicles of a similar nature veered round alongside a large people carrier vehicle, possibly a family car.

The trucks stopped suddenly just outside Kate’s old house, engines purring and lingering for a moment before their ignitions were disengaged in unison with the car driving past them and took the lead before it, too, stopped outside the house.

Sinead put her book down on the table and watched the forthcoming events with an unnatural silence. It seemed her lips were sealed shut the moment all the vehicles halted. The trucks’ shutters automatically rolled open in unison - one of which revealed to be filled with nothing but stacks upon stacks of food - allowing their respective ramps to slowly lower onto the road. Sinead cocked her head slightly in an effort to catch a glimpse of what was inside the nearest truck, but its interior was blocked by shadow and the intense burning sunlight.

The front doors of the car opened, the nearest of which revealed a man in his mid-forties to Sinead, smartly dressed in a grey pressed suit and black shoes as if he were a businessman. He withdrew himself from the car and took in a long whiff of fresh air. Unbeknownst to Sinead, he had been cooped up in the vehicle for the better half of three hours.

Next his wife revealed herself from the buckling vehicle as she pulled herself out, who, well, suffice to say, certainly got Sinead’s attention in at least one manner. She was covered head-to-toe in bristling, clothe-hugging muscle. The fabric clung to her bulky frame for dear life as if just a single miscalculated move or breath would be enough to shred it all to pieces and reveal the flesh underneath.

She turned to face the house –their new home – and spoke. “It’s beautiful.” The woman inspected the building in further detail, looking for any abnormalities in its structural integrity, yet found none. Despite that, a small frown formed on her visage, “but could do with a little extending.”

Her husband laughed, pulling at the lapels on his suit. “We’ll get to that eventually, I promise.” He and his wife then moved across the front garden to the door, completely unware of Sinead’s presence. She looked at the woman’s legs; massive, muscular things big as cantaloupes with thick veins and an unprecedented degree of definition. They were impressive in their own right, but Sinead was completely repulsed by the sight of them; she fought back the building urge to gag.

“Well, come on you two!” the woman called back to the car.” Sinead followed her gaze and glimpsed two other people still seated in the car, presumably sulky teens. That would often have been the case for any young people having to move home. “We haven’t got all day.”

The leftmost back door of the car swung open in such a way that Sinead assumed the person – the boy who opened it was angry. She was right, of course. This “boy” was roughly her age; a hint of stubble on his chin and muscle on his frame that clung to his shirt like his mother as he walked. He was in no manner the same size as or more so than his mother, but that didn’t stop Sinead from ogling like a perv.

The complete stranger – the new neighbour boy clocked Sinead as he walked across the grass, biting her lip lustfully with one leg up on the deckchair to better expose her undies, practically calling to him. But he wasn’t in any way distracted by her. If anything, all he did was offer a half-hearted wave.

And then – finally – the right side back door of the car opened slowly to reveal a girl the same age as Sinead; brunette with lone, bare muscular legs underneath crazily tight denim short shorts, possessing the ever sought-after sweep across her quads, veins thick and prominent like her ball sized arms, dressed in a top exposing her thick midriff that seemed to bulge with her every breath.

“Fine, as long as I get to train first” she spoke, trudging disinterestedly along the pavement to the nearest removal truck, her voice velvety; contrasting just about everything else about her. “I need to get some chesticle work in” she added, entering the vehicle.

Sinead blinked, somewhat freaked out by the fact the unknown girl’s chest seemed to flex on its own at her very mention of wanting to work out, twitching and throbbing under the pinkish confines of her skin. The blonde pulled away from the stranger, looking down aimlessly at the grass for a moment, and then pulled up hoping to find Darcy nearby, but she and the rest of her family had packed up and gone back inside.

“We all do,” the mother reminded, reaching into her bag to find the new house key. After a moment of struggle with the new lock, she stepped inside her new home, taking a whiff of its unique scent and eyeballing the small wall-mounted mirror to her right. There would be a ton of posing in that over the years to come, she was certain. “Just… remember we’re not all here yet.”

“Yeah, when’re gran and grandma supposed to arrive here anyway?” The nameless brunette returned with a large brown box full of assorted homey items labelled “Living Room.” As easy it looked for the unknown girl, Sinead surmised she would undoubtedly struggle with carrying a box that heavy; it allowed the girl’s biceps to pop and bulge to the point where their sides pressed against the box’s side!

“Oh, you know how your gran is: Always looking for a reason to work out some kind of muscle” her father said, walking toward the trucks, his suit jacket now removed. One of the truck drivers approached him with a clipboard and pen, prompting him to sign off unloading the contents inside the vehicles. “She decided to walk it over, if you can believe it.”

“So she won’t be here until around five?”

The father scoffed. “Yes, probably.” Realising his daughter might’ve taken that the wrong way; he swiftly turned with a pointed finger. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll get to work out first. You’ve still unpacking to do.”

The girl groaned, realising her day-long plans just might’ve been thwarted.

Tired of knowing her new neighbours were still more or less unware of her existence – excluding the hunk she tried and failed to get attract – Sinead purposefully coughed, attracting the attention of the family’s daughter.

“Oh, hey there. Sorry you had to hear all that.” The two girls greeted each other with a handshake, Sinead watching as the entirety of the bulky girl’s arm bulged in response to the simple act. “Name’s Imogen.”

“Sinead.”

“So, what’s the neighbourhood like around here? Prone to burglaries and such or what?” Imogen eyeballed Sinead’s glances up and down her muscular frame, trying to take in as much of it as possible, even though she was freaked out about the idea of seeing a girl that kind of… ‘big.’

Coming out of her trance, Sinead blinked and felt her face turn beet red with embarrassment at what she just did. “Oh, um.. I’m sorry about—”

Imogen chuckled softly, her chest beef popping in and out with each exhale. “That’s alright. I get that a lot.”

Sinead felt relief fill her. As much as she didn’t like the idea of a girl with muscle, she’d hate to get on the bad side of her new neighbour – especially when it’s someone who could probably pick her up with just the one hand. “But to answer your question: no, we don’t get a lot of burglaries around here. Besides, I reckon you’re someone who could handle themselves, right? You, or your hunk of a brother.” She knew Imogen’s mother could do a far better job, but Sinead just couldn’t stop thinking about her brother and his bulging muscles, wanting to feel them.

Imogen’s respondent laugh was so energetic, Sinead felt a tinge of uncertainty creep up her spine. “Who, Kyle? Nah, he couldn’t stop a burglary even to save his own life. Don’t let the muscles fool you; he’s a real softy inside.”

It came as no surprise Imogen’s revelation about her brother dampened Sinead’s first impressions of him. That said, she still had to talk face-to-face with the guy, get to know him better from his own mouth - in more ways than one, in due time.

Just so long as he’s not soft where it matters, the blonde said inwardly.

Assuming Sinead’s silence to be a bad sign, Imogen thought it would be best to leave. Like Sinead, she didn’t want to leave a bad impression either. “Well, listen; I gotta get back to unpacking my stuff. Maybe I’ll come by later?”

Sinead nodded, to Imogen’s relief. “Yeah, sure. Got a few more deckchairs here if you wanna tone up a bit.”

“Oh, I’m already toned” Imogen jested, giving her right arm a slight flex to bolster her point.
---
Sometime later in their garage after unpacking had come to an end, the Nelson family had found themselves to be in quite the rare predicament: one that Jim, Imogen’s father, had unfortunately overlooked when scouting for a new house the family would live in. To be fair, it wasn’t exactly easy for him to keep track whether this particular issue would arise. His wife Vivien was particularly flustered.

“Just how exactly is she going to get into the house, Jim?” She threw her arms over her chest, pressing her biceps against her twitching chest, breaths shallow yet retaining a hint of frustration. “You saw how big she’s gotten lately. You can’t just overlook something like this. I knew I should’ve come with you to scout the house. But nooo, I trusted your judgment.”

Jim rubbed his neck with embarrassment. He had to admit he hated himself, right now, and that there was no point in trying to justify his mistakes. While beating himself up over this, however, his mind was working overtime over how the issue could be rectified. But to no avail.

Kyle glanced over at the clock hung above the workshop. It was four-thirty, meaning it would only be half an hour before his grandparents arrived. Some kind of resolution to the family’s problems had to be found before then. He turned to the garage door.

Imogen shared his emotions, though not for the same reasons, itching at the bit to work her chest.

And then it dawned on Kyle. The solution was practically staring at him in a sense. Having said that, a solution only truly is that if it works, and only through trial and error would they know that it did. There was only the one opportunity.

“How about the garage door? Can’t she get in through there?” He looked to his parents in the hope their respondent expressions implied his suggestion was the key. And, sure as fate, it was. He thought it was a silly solution, admittedly, but that wouldn’t be the case if it worked. “I mean, it’s more than wide enough.”

Vivien turned to Jim with hopefulness. “We don’t really need the garage, do we? There is the driveway out front.” She stared at him with dog eyes, pleading to her husband.

“You want to convert this into the room?” he speculated.

“There’s more than enough space” Kyle pointed out.

Imogen scoffed. “That’s under the assumption we don’t have to move again.” She didn’t like the idea of moving for the fourth time.

Vivien turned to her daughter with comfort. “Don’t worry, sweetie, we won’t have to.”

Jim guesstimated the garage door’s width, muttering to himself incoherently before smiling. “It’s doable- getting her in and the conversion.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile. “I’ll call the guys and see whenever they’re next available. Should be okay for tomorrow, though. Until then, your grandparents will have to sleep on sheets.”

“No. I found a couple of spare beds in the back room. They’ll do just fine” Vivien revealed, before realising she’d slipped up somewhat. “We’ll, they’ll suit my Dad okay at least.”

Jim offered a small laugh. “Okay, we’ll use one of them for him then.”

“But what about Gran?” Imogen’s heart ached at the thought of her gran laid on a cold slabbed flooring overnight.

“I’m sure she’ll manage” Jim said, keying numbers into his phone. “She always does."

Average:

  ø 3.33

Originality:      
  ø 4
Satisfaction:
  ø 3
Overall:
  ø 3

1 user rated and 0 users favorited this story.





© Brawna 2.0