worship The Mass of Us - part 2 (TEASER)

[PumpCulture]

CW: FMG, muscle worship, f/f. 

 

Thick white suds and streams of cold water ran down Ellie’s gargantuan body, steam rising up from her overheated muscles in the dim fluorescent light of the butcher’s kitchen. The abandoned facility was the largest room with running water that they could find. Ignoring the vicious meat hooks still hanging in rows along the ceiling became a necessity. It might seem like a cruel space, but it was the only space big enough to bathe Ellie in, except for the freezing lake a mile down the mountain.

Ellie hadn’t used a shower since she was 16. Far too cramped. At age 17, she was already too wide for most doors. Now, at age 18, Dina had to hose her down and use a brush and a sponge at the end of poles in order to scrub off the sweat and mud from her bruised and stretch-mark-scarred skin. Dina daren’t stick her hands between the deep crevices of those freakishly bloated muscles. The bones of her fingers might snap with an involuntary flex. Ellie couldn’t always control what her body did.

But Dina didn’t mind. Sure, things were different now…

When Joel had first introduced the idea of getting stronger in order to survive -- We’re put here on this godforsaken Earth to survive, at all costs, he would say -- the idea of putting on some muscle seemed novel, if not hilarious. Ellie was nowhere close to muscular four years ago and none of them could’ve imagined how much weight she continued to gain.

Rapidly.

If anything, the rate at which she packed on more mass had increased over the years, not diminished.

At first, Ellie and Dina, girlfriends, teased each other about the differences in their weight. Dina always thought the new definition and toning was attractive. Then Ellie’s mind began to change, growing more obsessed as her body grew larger. At some point, Dina began wondering where it would stop as it became apparent that Ellie’s body was responding better than anticipated, but that was long before it spiraled out of control.

Now Dina was bathing her like she was cattle. At first, baths were fun and new, even as Ellie’s muscles became frighteningly, alarmingly extreme. They played with the water, shot each other with the hose, and giggled, sometimes wrestled.

Now? The air was thick with vapor and humiliation. They didn’t laugh. They didn’t even talk. They were disconnected, clinically so. Dina assumed the role of the nurse. Ellie was the patient. They didn’t look each other in the eye. Dina could tell that it bothered Ellie to have to be washed like an animal, like a semi truck, but she couldn’t find it in herself to comfort her. All there was was the writhing muscular barricade of the body her girlfriend was trapped in.

Sometimes Joel talked about Ellie’s miracle, the thought of a cure residing in her genes, how maybe it was her genes that turned her into… this.

Next spring, he estimated she would outgrow the butcher’s kitchen. He talked about designing a shower system for her with the bulldozer and a water tower. Joel talked about a lot of things. Mostly survival. Being prepared. He was disconnected in his own way. When he looked at Ellie, she felt like he was looking at someone else, either at somebody from his past who she reminded him of... or somebody he was trying to shape her into.

Ellie, staring at the puddles on the cement floor, raised one of her colossal arms. Even a task as simple as that had become difficult, nevermind properly bathing herself without assistance. Dina adjusted the gray strap of her tank top while she waited, bravely enduring the creaking noise of Ellie’s bones hefting all that weight, and the tightening sounds of Ellie’s muscles contracting and stretching. She grabbed hold of one of the big stainless steel hooks, lightly. Ellie’s bicep, the size of a couch cushion, grazed across the side of her cheek, brushing an errant strand of her brown hair over her cute, freckled face.

For a moment, Ellie’s green eyes looked up at Dina and their gaze met. Only for a moment. Ellie looked down at the floor again as Dina got to work scrubbing her girlfriend’s armpit. Shame but acceptance. Survive, at all costs...

 

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