Muscle Comes With Age | Chapter 2 | Extending Invitations

by amnoartist95


In her attempt to get Imogen to reveal more about Kyle, Sinead's friendship with her new neighbour grows; Imogen's grandmother Agnes is revealed and makes an offer.

 
"average"      "muscular"      "tremendous strength"      "very suggestive sexual content"      "english"      "female outmuscling male"      "flexing/posing"      "muscle worship"      "magic transformation"      "no violence"      "teenager"      "adult"      "elder"      "growth"      "within family/relatives"      "with friends/enemies"      "parent and child"      "third person perspective"     


Muscle Comes With Age
Written & edited by Amnoartist95
Chapter 2: Extending Invitations

Two hours after “New Neighbours”

“So, how long’ve you been working out to get so buff?” Sinead handed Imogen a glass of orange juice, bent down over the deckchair. The buff brunette took the glass with a soft grin and placed it on the nearby deck table used earlier. Admittedly, Sinead was still somewhat perturbed from seeing a girl big as Sinead, and yet, there was a sense of curiosity about her. That said, there was the obvious fact her mother Vivien was considerably larger still. “A few years I reckon, right?”

Imogen pondered whether or not to tell Sinead the true nature of her growth ability – they had just met, after all – and yet, Imogen admired the blonde’s inquisitiveness. It wouldn’t hurt to tell someone, would it? “A few years would be putting it lightly” she stated as she reached for the glass Sinead gave her, took a sip and smacked her lips. It kind of tasted… different, off, actually, not as orangey as presumed.

Sinead noticed the brunette’s scrunched face and couldn’t help but laugh slightly. “First time trying vodka, huh?” She continued her subtle examinations, her eyes shifted over to the bare, capped deltoids so casually boasted draped in a purple, sweat-drenched sports bra.

“You put alcohol in this?” Imogen was horrified by her discovery given she – like the slender beauty by her side – wasn’t yet of legal age to drink. But at the same time, a slight thrill came from it too. “I can see you’re going to be quite the interesting neighbour.”

Sinead laughed. She felt the same way about Imogen, admittedly. She didn’t like the idea of muscle on chicks, but there was something about Imogen that made Sinead mull over the new neighbour girl. “What can I say? I like to take risks. Besides, you only live once, right?”

That might’ve been the case. But it wasn’t enough to convince Imogen to chug the juice like Sinead did afterwards. The brunette slid the glass aside and laid back on the deckchair, her beefy back pressed against its wooden frame so her skin pushed through the small gaps. “But to seriously answer your question: I’ve been working out for a year.”

Technically Imogen lied. But honestly, she thought better of her original plan and decided not to reveal the whole truth just yet.

Impressed, Sinead whistled. It wasn’t that hard to believe either; offering a quick glance, she watched Imogen’s pecs gesticulate in tandem with her calm breaths, the spring winds brushing her chocolate locks to one side of her face before she parted them with a blow.

“And where did you live before?” Sinead felt a sense of guilt strike her, under the assumption her questions, though merely curious, were perhaps getting too personal for Imogen’s tastes, which was true. It was better to get to know the girl better slowly, in baby steps.

Imogen flashed back to her previous house; an open-plan contemporary detached building with a conservatory and basement gym – naturally – situated in the middle of a small community. She loved it there, had lots of friends and was even in the midst of a long-term relationship. But soon events transpired that prompted the whole family to leave.

She shrugged. “That’s in the past, Sinead. I’d prefer to just look forward, you know?” She swore to herself not to touch the spiked juice again, but Sinead’s unintended mentioning of her past prompted otherwise. Gulping loudly, she downed over half of the juice before she wiped her mouth.

Sinead eyeballed Imogen’s distress about something. She put two and two together and presumed her initial curiosity about the rippling brunette’s previous home was the cause. Sinead was understandably torn over her own actions and hoped they wouldn’t dampen her relationship with Imogen. After all, she was the gateway to knowing Kyle better.

“I hope I didn’t upset you or anything. I can be so nosey sometimes.”

Imogen offered a gentle giggle, much to Sinead’s relief. She turned, her pecs pressed against one another, skin layer minced skin layer; tensed sinew pulled tensed sinew. “Nah, it’s alright. Just remembering is all.”

Relief still clung to her, Sinead sipped from her glass as she watched someone walk across the street. Her mind worked overtime on what next to ask the girl sat by her who playfully flexed her chest and watched a lone beam of sunlight grace her inches-thick cleavage.

“So, uh…” she had to choose her words carefully, not wanting to embarrass either herself or Imogen any further. “...is Kyle, ya know…” She let it hang in the air for a moment in the hope that Imogen caught on.

“What, single?” Imogen shrugged, clearly disinterested in the subject. But she couldn’t deny the amusement found in how open Sinead was. It was almost like an interrogation. “Dunno, honestly. You’d have to ask him whenever you next see him."

Sinead’s brow curved to suggest a plan of some sort was forming in her head: one to help get Kyle’s attention. She hoped he wasn't already taken by some other girl, but more had to be uncovered about the hunk first. “What does he do? Any particular interests?”

Imogen shrugged once again, the beefiness of her deltoids rolled with the motion; bulging and shifting. “The last time I had any interest in what he did was before I started, you know…” she casually flexed her calf, watched the respective ball-sized, heart-shaped muscle dance above the deckchair. “I’m pretty sure it was model-making or something.”

“Ooh, I love model-making!”

Imogen rolled her eyes then flourished a smile. “Yeah, suuuure. You forget I’m a girl too. Sure, I barely look like one, but I know how our minds work – we’d do anything to get a man on our side.” She glanced over at Sinead’s breasts and fought back a gulp. How did she not see them before? Her nipples casually poked through her bikini top, screamed for release from the pink material. “But I’m pretty sure if he saw those tits of yours, he’d come running” she added with a laugh.

Somewhat embarrassed, Sinead adjusted her bikini top before sharing in the same laugh her larger neighbour – and possibly friend – gave.

The Nelson’s front door opened and revealed a man in his early sixties dressed only in shorts grey as his hair. It was Fred, Imogen’s grandfather. He peered round the door’s threshold and spotted her relaxing next to this blonde stranger. He clearly didn’t know her, but Imogen seemed to be having a good time.

“Immie?” He crossed the grass barefooted until he reached the waist-height fence between both houses, hands on his hips. Sinead turned to face him and stared at the creases of age on his face for a moment before spotting the hint of a six-pack, rendered speechless by his stares. She eventually opened her mouth to speak, but Imogen beat her to it.

“Yeah, what is it?” Her voice was sweetly toned. Turned to face him, she smiled.

“Your grandma wants to see you.”

Sinead shifted her glances downward at the surprisingly large bulge this matured individual owned; it pressed against the fabric of his underwear. If Sinead wasn’t truly creeped out about Imogen’s muscularity before, she certainly was about Fred’s package.

Imogen sighed softly, pulled herself out of the deckchair and turned to Sinead with sincerity. She was upset about having to leave so suddenly – she’d rather stay and chat with Sinead some more – but ‘duty’ called. “I gotta go for now,” she grabbed her towel, “Catch ya later?”

“You bet.”

Before she took off, Imogen’s parting response was a brisk grin.

###

The door that led into the garage opened with a creak as Imogen crossed its threshold alongside her grandfather. They ventured casually across the stone slabbed flooring to grunts and groans of exertion.

The so-called garage had in a sense been converted. Instead of being an actual garage, the area had been converted into an en-suite for Imogen’s grandparents. It had all the essentials: bedroom, bathroom, gym. The Nelson’s were just lucky the room was big enough.

Imogen clocked her grandmother Agnes let a vast dumbbell with an absurd amount of weight drop to the ground before she stared into the mirror with a smile, dressed in a custom-sized bikini top, hair grey and fashioned in a fringe.

Behind the woman was Vivien holding a tape measure extended over Agnes’ bulging bicep; veins criss-crossed its entirety, thick and pulsing with energy, humming with life. To Vivien’s side was a small notepad on a table with numbers inked into it with a black pen. Pulling the tape away, Vivien penned a number into the open page: 56 +2. To other people the number would seem random, but to those in the Nelson clan it had meaning: The 52 was in reference to the circumference of the older woman’s bicep was at last measurement, and the 2 was an indication of how many inches it had grown since then.

Kyle was close by, too, doing the same thing with his mother; crouched on one knee, he made a measurement of her relaxed calf: 43.

“Making friends are we?” Agnes looked at her granddaughter through the mirror with a smile, her arm now lowered to her side relaxed and brushed against her hip. She made a quick glance at the garage door. “I could hear you talking. Sounds like a girl too.”

Jim squeezed between Imogen and Frank with a bottle of oil, placed it on the same table the notepad was, uncorked it and eagerly applied some of its golden contents onto his wife’s calf. Agnes pulled her own leg in behind, beckoning him to pay more respect to her own far larger form. The relaxed muscle was almost equal to the size of Jim's head!

“I’ll get to yours later, Agnes.” Jim couldn’t deny he’d rather much prefer to stop oiling his wife’s beefiness and go for Agnes’ instead, but if there was one thing the mother-in-law taught him over the years, it was self-control. “Got a massage lined up for you, too.”

Agnes pulled her leg back with a proud, almost narcissistic grin. “Good. These muscles of mine ache for a good rubbing.”

Imogen turned away for a moment, acting distracted; she focused on the coo-coo clock hung over the workshop. “Yeah, it’s just the new neighbour.”

“Sounds like you two could be friends. Am I right?” Agnes’s grin turned loving, her head cocked slightly as Vivien marked 58 into the notepad after measuring her calf. “Maybe something a little more than that?”

Imogen scoffed in her vain effort to laugh her grandmother off. The brunette was certain friendship with Sinead was on the cards, and nothing more. “Nah, Kyle seems to have caught Sinead’s attention.”

Kyle dropped the tape measure in utter shock, much to Vivien and Agnes’ amusement. Embarrassment took hold of him as he turned away. “She-she likes me?”

“Dunno. Hard to tell really.” Imogen had stopped caring about what her brother did with his time years ago, but he couldn’t stay a muted virgin all his life. She hoped he would listen to the advice she was to offer. “You should talk to her at some point. I’m sure she won’t bite – much.”

Kyle was clearly unnerved by the prospect of talking to a complete stranger – he always had been. But he also knew Sinead was going to be his interested neighbour for the foreseeable future. He muttered incoherently to himself.

Jim finished up oiling his wife and with a raging hard-on started spreading a fresh layer onto his mother-in-law’s door-wide back. He was too entranced by the task at hand to notice his erection poked Agnes’ glutes. She simply smiled and played dumb. Frank helped by applying a layer onto her calves. Both men were equally turned on, but due to Frank’s abnormally larger snake, he boasted the larger erection without doubt.

Agnes decided it was time to come to the matter at hand, talk about why Imogen’s presence was required. It was essentially a family meeting of sorts right now, and even though Frank was the eldest, Agnes understandably was the family’s head. “I assume you know why you’re here, Immie?”

The girl responded with a simple nod, the back of her neck rippling with the motion. She didn’t know for sure why she was summoned, but had a pretty decent idea.

“I need to remind you my birthday’s coming up in a few days.” Agnes extended her right arm out, which allowed Jim to apply some oil to it. He watched the liquid trickle down the broad limb and cascade to the floor in tiny droplets. “And you remember what happens to us each year as a result?” she added.

Again, Imogen responded with a nod, arms tucked behind her back, triceps casually popping with tension. It seemed she was right after all. Despite that, it wasn’t truly a waste of time on her part.

“So, my suggestion would be to invite this Sinead over for the festivities that occur that night.” Ages felt Jim’s rough hands knead the steely flesh covering her bullish neck, and casually gulped to let its respective muscles flex monstrously, pressing violently against his fingertips. “Let her get to know us better as a family.”

“And Kyle?” The girl offered. She was eager to help her brother finally get a girl. “She’ll get to know him better too, right?”

“Sure, sure” Agnes said caringly. She winced softly as Frank’s hard-on penetrated her glutes. She teasingly clenched tight for a moment before her grip was released.

Vivien pulled away from her mother with her notepad and measuring tape, Kyle in-tow. She looked at the measurements just recorded and was not surprised by the fact her mother had, in fact, grown again, though not as much as last time.

Kyle was disappointed by the results he’d recorded: only his mother’s calves had grown. He should’ve expected that to be the case, however, given it wasn't her “time.”

“Now, go all of you, bar Frank.” Agnes pulled her husband in close, his chest pressed against hers, his cock massaging her waist. It was miracle nobody noticed it. “He and I need to christen this new bed of ours.” She tossed him onto the bed and ripped off her bikini top like tissue paper – caring not for the fact it was just store-bought – to reveal her blade-sharp nipples and headstone wide pecs. Next, she slipped out of her undies and tossed them carelessly, where they landed humorously on the door’s handle.

Without so much as a proper’ see you later,’ the remainder of the Nelson family scarpered to leave Agnes and Frank to their strangely typical shenanigans, with Imogen closing the garage door in sync with the bed’s rhythmic creaking and Agnes' grunting.

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