Crystal

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STORY SAMPLE

As the family sat around the dinner table, every eye—whether they realized it or not—was locked on Crystal. They always were.

While the others poked at their neat little servings of steak, potatoes, and vegetables, Crystal’s plate was piled high with three thick, bloody slabs of beef.

No sides. No greens. Just pure fucking protein—and lots of it.

Mom couldn’t stop staring. Every time Crystal’s knife sliced down, the muscles in her forearm shifted and danced—rolling under the skin like a sack of angry snakes.

It was grotesque. It was hypnotic. It was gorgeous.

A soft, breathy sigh escaped Mom’s lips. Everyone heard it.

Crystal didn’t look up. She just smirked.

Then, without warning, she dropped her utensils and grabbed a steak with her bare hands.

“Ah, fuck it.”

She ripped into it like a lioness.

“MMmmm... Gotta feed these monster muscles,” she said, talking around a mouthful.

She wasn’t exaggerating. Just look at those arms. Veins like worms. Peaks like mountains. And she was only fourteen!

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

Mom was lost—eyes glassy, breath shallow—drifting over every bulge and ripple of muscle like she was being pulled under. Meanwhile, her brother just seethed.

Four years older, and yet she'd beaten him at everything. Sports. Lifting. School. Life. And he hated her for it.

“You really think you're hot shit just 'cause you’ve got those freak-show muscles?” he snapped. “You look like a guy!”

Crystal didn’t blink. She just stared at him with cool, amused eyes.

“Name one guy you know with biceps like these.”

She flexed—slowly.

Silence.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. No one’s built like this. Only me.”

Off to the side, Mom whimpered.

Crystal raised the steak again, bit off another savage chunk, and locked eyes with her brother.

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