How you’d ended up here was still hidden behind the wall of fog that seemed to surround your memory. One minute, you’d been finishing up a set of lat pulldowns, the familiar burn in your back a comforting sign of effort. The next, a shadow fell over your entire world, and a bombshell of a brunette walked into your peripheral vision, cutting through the gym's mundane hum like a lightning strike. Your focus had shattered.
She was an athlete, undeniably. Even from your normal perspective, her presence commanded attention. But then came the dizzying, sickening lurch—a disorienting shift that sent your perception reeling. The next thing you knew, you were looking up at her…and not the way you’d wanted to be.
Instead, it was like looking at Everest in the gym as a towering, seemingly endless wall of sculpted abs stretched out above you. Each defined ridge and valley of her stomach glistened in beads of sweat, catching the harsh gym lights like tiny, wet pearls. They weren't SUVs, but from your new, terrifyingly minuscule vantage point, they seemed the size of gumdrops, then pebbles, then small river stones – each one a potential landslide if it decided to roll. The wall of this woman’s stomach expanded and contracted with her powerful breathing, moving dangerously close to…wait a second….
A small, pathetic whine, barely a whisper of sound in the roaring expanse of the gym, escaped your lips. You felt the ground sinking below you, a viscous, sweet-smelling muck slowly engulfing your feet. A familiar, cloying scent wafted into your nose, thick and rich. Chocolate. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you whispered, the words lost in the vastness. A protein bar. You were slowly, irrevocably sinking into a protein bar!
The wrapper, a crinkled, metallic-foil landscape, had been peeled back roughly, exposing the dense, dark-brown mass. You realized with a growing horror that you were waist-deep, then chest-deep, in a partially eaten, high-density fuel bar. How you ended up in it was a complete, terrifying mystery, but it wasn’t the most pressing matter right now. The biggest concern was that you were about three bites back on a snack that this giantess would be digging into as soon as she finished this set of dumbbell curls she was working on.
You cried out in a futile attempt, trying to lift your legs from the dense, sticky muck clinging to them. The effort was excruciating. It felt like the thick, sweet adhesive was going to rip your skin clean off the bone as every move just seemed to drag you in deeper. Like a mammoth stuck in tar, or a fly caught in amber, the more you struggled against the chocolatey quicksand, the more you seemed to sink into the unyielding mess of cocoa, oats, and various binding agents that coated this confection. Each frantic pull only served to create an air bubble that immediately popped, sucking you further down with a sickening gurgle.
Above you, the rhythmic, thunderous cadence of her workout continued.
CLANK. WHOOSH. CLANK. WHOOSH.
Each repetition of the dumbbell curls sent tremors through the entire protein bar, jostling your already precarious position. You tried to identify her, to make sense of this new, terrifying reality. Her outfit was typical gym wear – a black sports bra with thick straps, revealing a vast expanse of her midsection, and a pair of form-fitting dark leggings. The fabric, from your perspective, was like a coarse, woven landscape, emphasizing the incredible musculature beneath.
Her physique was astounding, even magnified to this god-like scale. Her shoulders were broad and rounded, a testament to heavy presses and rows. As she moved, the biceps and triceps bulged and contracted with smooth, powerful efficiency. You could see the subtle flicker of her veins beneath the surface of her skin, a roadmap of strength. But it was her core that was truly a marvel, now looming over you like a mountain range. The tight, defined abdominal muscles were a series of sculpted ridges, separated by deep valleys. Her obliques, carved and strong, were visible even as she stood upright. This wasn't just strength; this was years of dedicated, punishing training. This was Mal O'Brien. The realization was a cold, sharp blade of terror.
THUMP! THUMP! The final repetitions finished. Something as colossal as her shouldn’t be able to move that quickly, that deliberately. And yet, here you were, looking at her body bent over, her back wide and rippling like a turbulent sea as she gently placed her dumbbells on the floor. Her trapezius muscles were mountains rising to her neck, and her latissimus dorsi flared wide, hinting at immense pulling power.
Her dark brown hair, usually tied back for intense training, was now a wild, untamed mess. Thick, dark tree roots against the glistening pale flesh of her upper back, which pulsed with her heartbeat. The air around you was thick with the stale scent of her sweat, a potent mix of effort and humanity that poured down her body in rivulets, forming tiny streams that would be a flash flood to you. You were a deer in the headlights. Struck in awe at something your little brain couldn’t comprehend. And, just like a deer caught on a dark country road, your hesitation, your morbid fascination, was going to become deadly.
A hand, no longer a baseball diamond but still an unimaginably vast landscape of flesh, flew in your direction. The skin was tanned, healthy. Thick fingers with calloused, almost rough digits, began blindly tapping their way closer along the small ledge your sticky protein bar prison was perched upon. The bar vibrated with each fingerfall, a miniature earthquake, sending shivers through your trapped form. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for impact.
A digit, immense and oblivious, slammed down onto the peeled wrapper with a dull thud, creating a small dent in the foil as it paused. Then, with a sudden, casual jerk that sent your world spinning, it yanked the entire snack closer to the rest of the massive hand! Falling backwards from the sudden, violent lurch, you found yourself completely submerged, then flung violently upwards, now waist-deep in the cold, thick chocolate as your stomach was pressed painfully into your pelvis. The bar was airborne.
You were heading towards the…surprisingly baby-faced young woman who dominated your skyline. The air rushed past you, carrying the scent of her skin, her sweat, and the faint, sweet perfume she must have worn earlier. As the bar arced upwards, you rose past her shallow, neatly pierced navel, past the washboard abs, past her surprisingly petite breasts that still held a clear, powerful musculature beneath. You swept past the column of her strong, muscular neck, which you might soon be squeezed down. You found yourself buffeted by her warm, moist breath, a gentle hurricane that ruffled the chocolate surface around you.
Her tongue, a massive, pink ridge, ran along the twin barricades of her full, pink lips, a gesture of anticipation. Her eyes, dark and intelligent, looked down. You braced yourself as… the world tilted again, and a shadow loomed.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
