So, in the weeks that followed, Regina got me to work on building the body of my dreams. She might sound sweet, but don’t be fooled; she’s a total slavedriver. It wasn’t just the time we spent in the weight room, but it was also the food I had to eat. One thing I really have to be grateful to her for is her cooking. She had a talent for cramming a ridiculous amount of healthy calories into a small space. If I had to do it the conventional way, eating something like a bowl of oatmeal and six eggs for breakfast, I don’t think I would have made it. Even Gina’s relatively small meals left me feeling like there was a basketball in my stomach.

Since our schedules didn’t have much intersecting free time our first semester together, Gina wrote up a workout routine for me and made adjustments as necessary. I was amazed at the sheer simplicity of it; three days a week, and just a little over an hour a day. I asked her about it, of course, and she assured me the quality of the workout was more important than the quantity. And to reassure me that she knew what she was talking about, she held out and arm and slowly curled her forearm. As that softball sized lump rose and pushed a pale blue vein to the surface of her tanned skin, any doubts I had were squashed.

The first time in the university’s gym…well, no, it’s not right to call it the first time. I mean, I’ve been inside them before, but those visits were for the occasional stint with the treadmills. That first time in the gym, not as a cardio bunny, but as a…hmm. They should really come up with a name for girls who lift. Anyway. That first time, I had barely any clue what I was doing. I found my way to the weight floor easily enough, and sure, I had Gina’s scribbling, but I had no idea what the hell a ‘deadlift’ was, and I was supposed to do 3x5 of them, whatever the heck that meant.

And just to compound my inexperience, the guys currently working the floor were huge. Looking into that environment, I couldn’t imagine that I had any place in there. There wasn’t a single other girl in there (they were on the upper floor, working the cardio machines). I might have turned around and walked out right there if the image of Gina’s thick forearm wasn’t fresh in my mind. I took a deep breath and stepped in. Since you had to walk through the floor to get to the staircase, I didn’t draw much attention from that. But, when it became clear that I was not upward bound, so many of the eyes in the room drifted ever so slightly towards me.

I exhaled nice and deep in a futile attempt to calm the butterflies in my stomach and decided to start with one of the exercises on the list that I knew: the bench press. Luckily, there was a bench open, so, after sliding two ten pound discs onto it, I slid myself under it. Somehow, I cranked out a full five counts, even if my skinny arms were wobbling furiously on the last one. I pulled myself back up for a breather, and I was surprised at what I found. While some eyes were still glancing over towards me, no one was really paying much attention to my feeble little effort. It brought me a nice calm feeling, seeing that everyone was focused on improving themselves.

I was able to finish off the bench press and the squats with my inhibitions released. It would have been nice if my body had gotten the same relief as my mind did, but eh, what can you do? There were still the deadlifts to do, and since I had no clue what they were, I did the only think I could do: ask.

The nearest guy was lifting dumbbells. He was a pretty big fellow and obviously strong, although his muscles didn’t have much definition. Looking back, he was obviously on a bulking phase, but I didn’t know about bulking and cutting back then, so I just figured him for a linebacker. I waited for him to finish his set before I asked, “ah, sorry to bother you, but could you show me a deadlift?”

I was expecting bad things. Maybe he would laugh at the thought of a girl doing a hard lift, or tell me that I shouldn’t do exercises that would give me ugly muscles, and so on. That was when I was really surprised. None of those things happened; instead, he nodded and showed me over to a hexagonal bar. He was so nice about it; not only did he show me the form, but he stuck around and watched me do it a couple times to correct a couple of the flaws in it. Once I got the hang of it, he wished me luck and got back to his own workout. It was so simple. My first day in the gym was such a pleasant experience. I wonder what that guy’s up to now…but I digress.

And that was how that semester worked. I ate Gina’s fiendish meals and followed her training regimen to the letter. As the weeks advanced, I put on weight at a pretty good clip, and it was filling out my frame very nicely. So nicely in fact, that when I went to the gym, the guys paid attention to me like I worried they would when I started. Not to laugh at me though; they were leering. And god help me, but I loved the attention.

After a month or so, I was on speaking terms with a lot of regulars (mostly men, but a couple of women), and thoughts of not belonging had long vanished from my mind. Still, I did wish Gina were there with me. One day, I was over at the squat rack, with 175 lbs. loaded and got to overhear a conversation two of the guys were having.
“Yo Mike, did ya hear? Gina was squatting 450 the other day,” the shorter one said. His name was Ethan. I liked him; he had an easy going personality and was always kind to newbies. He had actually been the one to show me the form for power cleans. He had the best smelling blond hair that could even overpower the odor of sweat on the floor. If I were going to be with a guy…um, but I’m digressing again.

Michael, on the other hand…well, he was a genuinely nice person deep down. Deep, deep down. But his flirting was awkward and even though I figured he didn’t mean it, I could never help but feel that he was being patronizing. “Fft, so what? She’s gotta be on a cycle of some roids, you know?” he said.

“Hey bro, don’t get all butthurt that a girl’s coming up on your record,” Ethan said, chuckling a bit as he said it. “She worked for it, just like you did.” Did I mention that I liked him?

“That shit just ain’t natural,” Michael said, persisting in soothing his ego. “Gina’s freaking huge. Now that there,” he said. My back was turned, but I could see in the mirror that he was pointing to me, “is what a woman oughta look like. Badunkadunk, know what I’m saying?”

It’s true that my butt had taken the most benefit from my working out so far. Even though I was in black sweats, the shape was still obvious from the way the fabric stretched around it, but fell loose coming down my thigh. Later I found out that I owed it to my form on squats. Apparently, it’s a big deal that I drop down past parallel, which puts the booty through the ringer. It just seems like good sense to me, but whatever.

Anyway, I pretended not to be listening, even as I saw Michael thrust his crotch suggestively in the mirror. Ethan just shook his head and walked over to his next station. Such a sweetie…still, it sat on my mind, what Michael said about Gina. It occupied my mind, whether I’d be able to deal with people talking behind my back like that when I got to be her size. Then, I realized that was still a couple years away and I was being presumptuous.

By the time finals for my first semester rolled around, I had put on the freshman fifteen. Plus five. That brought me to 112 lbs. I wish I could say I was a lovely sculpture of godly proportions, but no, I had simply added some meat to my skinny frame. When I walked, my thighs rippled ever so slightly as my quads pushed against my skin.

My arms were still nothing special when relaxed, but when I flexed, I could get a noticeable bulge out of them. Gina liked to put her arm up against mine and compare the difference. Where my bicep only rose maybe an inch, hers leaped high enough to cast a shadow over mine. And then I would start running my hand over it, and she would pump it, tossing my hand up and down along with it.

When we packed up to head home for winter break, she gave me a maintenance routine to use with my father’s dumbbells to keep me primed for when we returned. Of course, we had each other’s numbers and IM details so we barely went a day without talking to each other. I didn’t change much over that winter break; it was really just miraculous that I didn’t lose any of my progress, most especially the butt I had put so many squats into.

When we came back, we arranged our schedules so we had more free time in common, mostly in the morning. I wish we had picked the afternoon instead, because Gina, without fail Monday through Thursday, would come into my room at 7:00 to roll me out of bed and drag me to the gym. No, seriously, one day I was so lethargic, she actually carried me there.

That day, I had taken twenty whole minutes to just put on some sweats, she tossed me over her shoulder and marched us there. The whole way, she had one hand over my butt, which was propped on her shoulder. Every so often, her big hand would give a cheek a squeeze, which got a yelp from me.
“Gina, put me down!” I wailed. As annoyed as I tried to sound, I couldn’t help but giggle a little at my predicament.

“Maybe next time, you’ll get your pants on quicker!” she said, giggling just as much as I was. As early as it was, there was no one but the security staff and some early morning joggers to see as she walked us out of the dorms and to the recreation center. “Or maybe you want to repeat this little exercise?” she said, stroking my firm butt.

“Yeah right! You think I like having my nose this close to your butt?” I said. I certainly did not like having my nose there; protein shakes make for very powerful flatulence. But, I did like where my eyes were. Hanging upside down behind her like some beaten and bound prey, I had a close up view of her glutes. Unlike me, Gina loved showing off her body, so she wore lycra over her legs for workouts. With each step she took, I could see the material stretch as her butt muscles exploded and gnawed against their flesh prison. Somehow they held together, as they always did, and we made it to the gym, where she set me down. I recall being acutely aware of my pubic hair at that time.

Using the gym in the mornings, there was hardly anyone ever there. Gina’s admirers would often come by when word of her new workout schedule trickled around, but that was hardly enough to fill the floor. I have to admit, I did miss the attention I got from guys, but being able to see Gina work out was very worth it. Besides, I got into the habit of doing a light workout on midday Friday for my attention fix.
Gina was a very good friend of iron, or whatever the heck weights are made out of. There wasn’t a workout she did that she didn’t stack some mind blowing (at least to me) amount of weight. She was not kidding when she spoke of the quality of a workout; she followed a regimen similar to the one she made for me, though there were some more advanced exercises along with the core ones.

Towards the end of any workout, she would be sweating, and I’d be running to the water fountain with her bottle to fill it up. By the time she would be doing her last few sets, I’d be done and watching her. She usually saved an arm lift of some kind for last, so her arms would pumped with blood and the biggest I would see them. And the way the sweat rolled down them, those vein loaded lumps practically glowed. Whatever shirt she was wearing would inevitably get drenched and cling to her fleshy chest. If she was getting particularly good results that day (or if it was cold in the room), her nipples would poke through as well.

Gina had changed her major at the beginning of the semester I entered the school, and I knew exactly what I was doing, so we had about the same amount of credits to complete. Whenever housing had to be renewed, we requested each other as roommates and were always approved. That, combined with the fact that we both attended semester, ensured that we spent all of the following two years with each other, save for the short gaps in between semesters when we went home.

By what was technically my senior year, I had changed massively for the better. I weighed in at a hefty 138 lbs: some fat, mostly muscle. My best attribute was still my butt, which tormented any pair of pants unfortunate enough to be bought by me. It was like having two large coconut halves in my panties at all times. And they were firm too; not twisting off bottle caps firm, but they didn’t collapse under half assed squeezing. I drew so many stares walking around that year, I’m sure I must have given at least one person whiplash.

Just as good though, I had developed legs to match my growing booty. They didn’t have Gina’s girth, but they had gained a shape that was similar. My thighs were big enough that they could graze each other while I was walking if I turned a corner carelessly and were cut fairly well. There was a layer of fat that gave them a luscious, smooth look like Gina’s, but the striations in my quads could definitely be seen. My calves were much the same: cut, but not cut deep. I could swear my feet grew a little too, but I never had to change shoe sizes, so what do I know?
My lower body definitely got the bigger benefit of my two years of labor, but still, my upper body could still be envied by all of the non-athletic males on campus. And maybe even some of the ones that did work out. I had fantastic abs. I felt like I could take a cannonball to the tummy and have it shatter harmlessly against my eight-pack.

Now, Gina still dwarfed me in nearly department, but one thing I had on her was the fact that I had managed to keep my breasts. Actually, with the voracious growth of my appetite, they had grown to a nice C cup which were pushed out by my pecs. I could even make them dance, which made a fantastic party trick. Yeah…Gina eyed them pretty enviously, but at least I finally had something to offer her in return during our little groping sessions.

As for my arms, I had a pretty rocking pair of guns that measured fourteen inches. The shape was a little odd. Most of the bulge came out sideways rather than from the peak. Gina said that was because I work the reverse preacher curl too often and that it’d be easy enough to even out. Weird shape aside, I won way more than my fair share of drunken arm wrestling contests (with frat boys, not Gina).

I’m not really a show off, so I really took to wearing shawls as my growth progressed. It’s a nice piece of clothing that goes well with long pants, which I also exclusively wore. Between those two, my dress style only revealed my forearms, which were pretty thick, and my cleavage, which was pretty deep. Sometimes, if I yawned, my abs would show too. From a distance, someone might have assumed I was a big boned person that kept the weight off.

The thing I had lamented about my growth though, was that I hadn’t put on Gina’s imposing girth. It’s hard to describe, but I’d say my general outline was the same as it was when I started. My shoulder with was about the same and my thighs and grown more inward than outward. I could get my frame to bloat the way I wanted it to. I suppose that’s just a simple issue of bone structure I can’t do anything about, but it’s still frustrating.

Still, I had built a very nice body for myself. I was receiving attention that I had never gotten my entire life. Mostly good attention, though I did hear the occasional “fucking dyke” muttered. It didn’t really bother me. I did experiment with boys…fft, listen to me, “experiment with boys.” I was soooo gay.

Anyway, all things have to come to an end. Or at least, so I thought. Gina and I were both graduating, and we were talking one day. And by talking, I mean stripped down to our underwear, feeling each other up. It had become a casual thing by that point; just something to do during commercials.

“Hey Gina,” I said. She looked up from my breasts which she had cupped in her large hands and tilted her head, letting me say, “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Don’t start with all the goodbye talk now, you’re gonna make me sad,” she said with a mock whimper. “Hey, what are your plans, anyway Mary?”

I had my hands on the inside of her thighs, right where they met her bikini briefs. Pushing my fingers into the indentations, and poking the tip of my nails just underneath them, I sighed dreamily. “I found a job, here in the city. It pays pretty well, so I guess I’ll just rent an apartment.”

“You know, I found a job in the city too. And I need an apartment…” she said. Our hands stopped for a minute as we stared at each other. The same exact question was on both our minds, and really didn’t need to be asked out loud. Right there, we decided that we were going buy a nice apartment and split the rent.

“We’re still roomies!” we both screamed. Man, if someone had told me that we were going to spend the rest of our lives as roomies…well, that’s my story. I never did get that girth I wanted, but at my best, I was a solid 161 lbs and usually cut pretty deep. At her best, Gina was a mammoth 205 lbs. and some of the best years of my life were spent spreading oil over them for competitions.

Happiness has a weird way of finding us, growing on us. We started off sharing just living space, but we ended up sharing a hobby, our hopes, our dreams, and eventually, our entire lives together.