Feeling Ill            Musclefan_UK

 

“You better call your mother to take you home” said the concerned Maths teacher.

I was in the final year of my studies, only weeks to go until my exams, that’s maybe why I had gone into college that morning. I had woken up with a fever, but knew how vital today’s lessons were, and had foolishly gone in.

 

My mum came along in her new 4 X 4. She felt my forehead with her cold hand. I heard a group of my classmates giggle, I didn’t care, I just wanted my bed, and a hot water bottle. I slept for the best part of 2 days.

 

I awoke on Wednesday morning feeling a lot better, but still far from fit to go to school. I gingerly made my way downstairs with my quilt over my shoulder. I must have rattled given the number of tablets I had consumed. I slumped onto the sofa. My mum came over immediately with a Lemsip and a re-filed hot water bottle.

“You rest up son” she said, “forget the school work, and just concentrate on recovery”

 

Her words were reassuring. I was relaxed, to the point of falling asleep again on the sofa. I was woken up by mum at 11am, she was about to leave for work.

“Now you needn’t worry, here is my mobile number if you need me, but I have allowed your sister to stay off school to look after you.” She informed me.

 

I scowled at my mum. My sister and I never really got on. In fact, we tried to stay out of each others way where ever possible. Mum left for work, and then Sharon came downstairs and flicked over the TV.

 

“Oi, I was watching that” I complained

 

Sharon just ignored me. I hadn’t really been watching it, but it was the principle, her cockiness. Sharon was only 15 and still at high school. She was exactly 2 years younger than me, yes, we shared the same birthday. We were like chalk and cheese, never really got on, but of late, she had developed the typical teen cocky attitude. In years gone by, most of our arguments ended up with me bad mouthing her, and she running off in tears. The past few months though had seen her stand her ground a little more. This frustrated me, not being able to reduce her to tears anymore.

 

The remainder of the morning saw Sharon wind me up. I asked for some orange, she brought blackcurrant. I asked for the newspaper, she gave me yesterday’s edition. It was obvious that she was almost taunting me into a confrontation. Eventually, I had just about had enough. I was still ill, and not in the mood for these games.

 

“What do you want Sharon?” I asked

 

Sharon perched herself on the arm of the sofa. She had a menacing look in her eyes

 

“Well?” I said as I prodded her with my foot

 

“Well big brother, looking at how weak and frail you look with this fever, I thought we might have some fun” she informed me

 

“What are you on about you silly cow!” I shouted with my chesty voice

 

“Arm wrestling!” hollered Sharon, “Let’s have an arm wrestling match”

 

I began to laugh. “Ok, why not” I replied

 

This would take my mind of daytime TV for a while. I was way bigger than Sharon. I knew I was weak from my illness, but didn’t think that would be too much of a disadvantage. Sharon was a slip of a girl, very slim. Maybe she would leave me alone if she got her ass kicked.

 

Sharon dragged the coffee table across as I sat up. I was a little dizzy due to the fever, but given a minute, my head cleared.

 

“Can we make it a forfeit match?” I asked

 

Sharon surprisingly agreed.

 

“Right, well if I win, you have to do everything I ask until mum gets back” I told her, she nodded

 

“And when I win” started Sharon, “You have to give me a rematch when you are fully fit”

 

I laughed as I agreed to her request. I knew she couldn’t win, and even if she did, it would be down to my illness and a 100% version of me would beat her in 2 seconds.

 

I walked across to the armchair and put my arm up on the coffee table. I hadn’t really eaten for 2 days since I got ill, and this already began to show. I was a pretty slender build anyway, but 2 days of food had left me looking very drawn. Sharon in her tracksuit top gave nothing away about her build. As I said before, she was a thin girl, 5’8 maybe. Her long brown hair made her look even slimmer than she was. We locked hands. I suddenly felt very faint. The effect of the fever was greater than I had thought. I wasn’t even able to move her arm back at all. I knew immediately I was in trouble. Sharon laughed as she waggled my hand back and forth. I tried to resist but couldn’t stop her. I knew she was going to win; I was so weak because of the illness, why didn’t she just end it? She was enjoying this moment. Even if it was tainted, she loved it, finally being the one in control of our sibling rivalry.  Eventually, she took my hand down. I immediately pulled my arm away and rubbed my aching bicep.

 

“YES!!!!!” Exclaimed Sharon, she was over the moon.

“How does it feel to be the weak one for once?” she teased

 

“Yes very good Sharon, you beat an ill man, enjoy your glory” I rasped back at her

 

“You may be ill, but that was pathetic, I can’t wait to take you down for real when you’re well again” she shouted

 

I suddenly felt faint and lay back on the chair. I had forgotten about our ‘rematch’ clause. Sharon had felt so strong, but surely that was down to my weakness, she wasn’t strong really, was she? I was about to get a taster.

 

“You need to lie down, you look really flush” said a concerned Sharon. Despite our arguing, she did care about me, and while she enjoyed her little victory, she was concerned that I had maybe overdone it in my condition.

 

I tried to sit up, but collapsed back into the chair, I felt really weak and light headed.

 

“I can’t get up” I laughed to Sharon. I wanted to lie back on the sofa, but was too weak to get up. It was then that Sharon was to show me her strength. Not as a boast, but in a genuine act of kindness. Before I realised what was happening, Sharon had leaned over the chair and scooped me up into her arms. Was I delirious? No, Sharon was carrying me in her arms across the front room. She lay me down on the sofa.

 

“Better now?” she asked

 

I gasped for breath. “How did you just do that?” I asked in amazement.

 

“Easy, I just lifted you up, you’re not heavy” said Sharon, obviously not impressed with her feat of strength

 

I was slim as I said, but was about 160 lbs; I know I wouldn’t have been able to lift someone of my weight with such ease.

 

“I lift my boyfriend all the time, he likes it” laughed Sharon

 

Visions of my sister with Colin were not what I liked inside my head, but Colin was probably a bit heavier than I was, so just how strong was Sharon?

 

“Well, thanks for the lift anyway, you are pretty strong for a girl” I joked, but she didn’t like the sexist element

 

“Yes, strong for a 15 year old girl, and in a few weeks, when you are well, you will see just how strong” snapped Sharon as she walked off leaving me pondering just how she could have lifted me so easily.

 

 

It was about 7 days before I felt well enough to return to my studies, and about 14 days until I felt anywhere near 100%. I was back playing soccer and not feeling any side effects of the illness. Life was back to normal really, until I returned home from college one Friday night. Sharon was home alone, and appeared to have been waiting for me. I dropped my backpack in the hall and made my way to get a soda from the kitchen, but she blocked my path.

 

I tried to push her aside, but was a little disturbed to find I couldn’t move her.

 

“What do you want?” I snapped

 

“Only our rematch” she smiled as she spoke

 

I had forgotten all about this.

 

“Oh come on Sharon, why lose to me now, you can live off your last victory” I laughed, but she wasn’t smiling now

 

Sharon went and sat by the coffee table and gestured to me

 

“I still aren’t feeling that well you know” I said

 

Sharon didn’t want to hear it. She knew I was fit, I knew it too. She wanted a real, fair contest.

 

I guess I had agreed to this, so I went on over and sat opposite her. Thoughts of her lifting me had gone as I looked up and down at her skinny frame. I chuckled, she couldn’t beat me.

 

Sharon caught me looking her up and down. She slowly unzipped her tracksuit top. Her vest top revealed 2 long arms. They still looked skinny as they always had been, but they seemed to have an outline to them, almost like a 3 defined sections. I laughed; my mind was playing tricks on me. I put my arm on the table, but she hadn’t done with showing me what she was doing. She slowly lifted up her right arm in a flex pose. Still, it looked skinny.

 

I laughed, “Wow, muscle man” I mocked

 

Sharon smiled. Suddenly she tensed her arm. My mouth dropped open. A huge ball of muscle had risen from her skinny arm. It seemed impossible that such a bicep could exist in such a slim arm. It was baseball shaped, and stuck up, stretching the skin to the max.

 

“Feel it” she demanded. I reached over and put my hand on it. It was even harder than it looked. It was a ball of muscle. Sharon smiled and relaxed her arm. The muscle vanished, and her arm was once again weak looking. I didn’t know what to say. Sharon had the most firm bicep I had ever seen; mine was pathetic next to hers. This certainly explained how she was able to lift me. It may also explain how she was about to beat me arm wrestling.

 

We locked up hands as we had 2 weeks before. The power had now switched. Last time only Sharon had expected her to win. Now we both did. The match began, this time I did make some headway. In fact I was doing well; very well, I was pushing Sharon down. Her muscle didn’t look so impressive now. I stared at her bicep as her arm shook, struggling to hold on. I glanced up at her face, something made me feel uneasy. I was a couple of inches from victory. I stared at her arm, when suddenly it seemed to explode. The bicep burst out of the skin once more, looking as powerful as it had in her flex display previous. I was captivated by her muscle. I looked back at her face, now it was a smiling one. She had barely been trying, and now she was about to.

 

As her bicep swelled, her arm began to move up. No matter how much I strained, I couldn’t stop her. She soon reached half way, and then started to take me down. I slowed her slightly, or at least I like to think I did, but the end was inevitable. Sharon slammed my hand down and flexed her huge bicep in my face.

 

“So, who is the stronger?” she asked

 

What could I say? “You are Sharon, much stronger”

 

Sharon laughed

 

(May continue this, with Sharon seeking retribution for the times I made her cry as a kid. Anyone interested?)