The Pickle Jar Incident (Short Story)

The Pickle Jar Incident

Written By SteeleBlazer

            Jake had always prided himself on being a man's man. In his glory days, he was the high school quarterback, the guy every other guy wanted to be, and every girl wanted to date. Those days were behind him now, but he still carried himself with the swagger of a man who knew his way around a gym. He still worked out a couple of times a week—enough to maintain his muscular frame, even if the muscle was starting to soften a bit around the edges. He didn’t need to push himself too hard anymore, or so that’s what he thought... But, as you’re about to find out Jake isn’t much for thinking, he’s a jock after all... Or at least he used to be. 

            As he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, toweling off the remnants of his rare post-workout shower, his reflection stared back at him—broad shoulders, chest still solid, but not quite the chiseled physique he remembered from his college football days. He couldn’t help but think he still had it—whatever it was—though he had nothing and no one to compare himself to. He considered himself the studly alpha male, and as he hit a series of flexes in the mirror—making sure to suck in his belly, the only body part that seemed to be growing bigger lately, and puff up his chest, which seemed to be drooping more and more—he couldn’t help but smile, pleased with what he was seeing. Sure, he wasn’t as tight as before, but he was still comfortable in his own skin—maybe even more so now. He liked what he saw, and in his mind, he was still the alpha male, still the man. Nothing was going to change that… Or so he thought. 

            But then there was Beth. 

            When they first started dating, she was just a regular gym-goer, hitting the treadmill a few times a week, maybe doing some light weights. But something changed. It started small—Beth getting curious about lifting, asking Jake to show her a few moves. He obliged, thinking it was cute, not realizing what he was setting in motion. 

            Weeks passed, and Beth caught the lifting bug hard. What was supposed to be a casual gym habit became an obsession. She started spending more time at the gym than Jake, which really wasn’t that hard to do, and even the time Jake spent at the gym, his energy and motivation and focus were often on other things. When it came to weightlifting, he literally was just going through the motions and couldn’t wait for his workout to be over, so he could go and relax in the sauna, or really just be any place or anywhere else but the gym. Still he wasn’t bothered or worried that his girlfriend was starting to spend more time at the gym working out and lifting weights than what he did. 

            At first, it was cute—his girlfriend hitting the gym to tone up, maybe lose a few pounds. But, she wasn’t actually losing any pounds, she was gaining them. Then the weeks turned into months, and Beth’s commitment became relentless. Four days a week turned into five, then six. Every day was leg day, or arm day, or some other day that Jake had long since relegated to the past. She started coming home with stories of new personal bests, the satisfaction of feeling the pump, the thrill of seeing new veins pop all around her body, and how she especially loved seeing all those thick veins pop up along her forearms as she curled heavier and heavier dumbbells. 

            And she was growing. 

            At first, Jake didn’t notice any real difference... Except for maybe she was just a little bit hotter and sexier than usual. And over time those little changes started to add up. A little extra definition in her biceps, the hint of a quad sweep peeking out when she wore shorts. As the weeks passed, those small changes became impossible to ignore, and were on the verge of becoming mighty big changes... As those muscles of hers started to look awfully mighty! Her shoulders, once delicate and feminine, were broadening, filling out in a way that made his own seem less impressive by comparison. Her arms were thickening, swelling with steely softball sized sinews. And those legs… they were pillars now, corded with muscle that pulsed and flexed with every step. 

            He remembered the first time he realized just how big she was getting. She had been wearing one of his old college football t-shirts, a relic of his glory days. It used to hang loose on her, almost like a dress. But that night, as she sat down beside him on the couch, he noticed how it clung to her body. The fabric stretched tight across her chest, her shoulders filling it out and stretching it to the seams. And her arms—God, her arms—were pushing against the sleeves, the material straining to contain the taut triceps and bulging biceps that lay beneath. Even her legs—sleek and sexy as they were—weren’t just sculpted, rippling with rock-hard muscles; they were thick... thicker than his own thighs. 

            That was the first time Jake really felt it—fear. The growing fear that his girlfriend could be growing bigger and stronger than him.

            But Jake brushed it off. He was still the man. He didn’t need to prove anything. Even if her muscles were getting bigger, he was still stronger. That was a fact. He had the male advantage... Although fact or not, it also was a fact that whatever advantage he had was decreasing day by day and week by week as his girlfriend kept on growing bigger and stronger. 

            For a time—not actually for long, but for a time—he did try to do something about it. He tried to keep up, hitting the gym more often, pushing himself harder. But it was a hassle, and if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really need to. He was a man, after all. He had been a jock, an athlete. He didn’t need to prove anything. Sure, Beth was getting bigger, but he needn't worry—he would always be stronger. Men were just stronger than women. It was science. Biology. Facts. 

            Not that he had ever paid much attention in school, but that much he knew. 

            At least, that’s what he told himself. 

            Then came the pickle jar incident. 

            It was a day like any other day, Beth was working out at the gym and Jake was working out his frustrations with a particularly stubborn pickle jar. He wasn’t just struggling with the jar, but with his own insecurities about growing weaker, and his girlfriend growing stronger. Even though one really doesn’t grow weaker, they waste away and become weaker. But, such pedantry was lost on Jake, and really all he could focus on was that damn indomitable lid and how it refused to budge and open for him.  Jake was sitting at the kitchen table, struggling with a jar of pickles. His hands slipped on the lid, the stubborn jar refusing to budge. “Dammit,” he muttered, straining harder, his face flushing with effort. 

            Beth walked in, her gym bag still slung over her shoulder, looking fresh from another intense workout. She watched him for a moment, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “Need some help with that?” she asked in a teasing tone. 

            Jake shot her a glare. “I got it,” he snapped, but the lid stayed stuck. 

            Beth didn’t wait for him to offer. She stepped closer, plucked the jar from his hands, and twisted the lid off effortlessly, with an ease that made his stomach drop. She grinned at him, holding up the jar like a trophy. “You were saying?” 

            It was a playful taunt, but to Jake, it felt like the ground shifting under his feet. “You think you’re so strong now, huh?” he growled, his pride stung. 

            “Well, I mean, strong enough to open a jar of pickles,” Beth said giving her both her biceps a flex while still holding that jar of pickles in her hand, and both her biceps and the pickle jar seemed to dance a haughty little dance of smug superiority which was anything but little as her beefy biceps bulged and bounced up and down.

            Jake felt a flush of anger and embarrassment, his pride stung.

            “I had it,” he snapped, but the words felt hollow even as they left his mouth.

            Beth’s smile widened along with her flexed bicep, “Sure you did.”

            “You think you’re so strong don’t you, but I loosened it for you,” Jake said trying to convince not just Beth but also himself.

            By the way that she laughed not only didn’t she believe him, but he could feel his masculinity slipping away, being eroded by every inch of her beautiful brawny muscles. Muscles which expanded in inches again before his eyes as Beth flexed her arm once more, and as the bicep bulged upwards in a sizeable peak, Jake felt his confidence go in the opposite direction

            “I think I’m stronger than you, maybe,” she teased, her voice lilting but with a challenge in her eyes, and she narrowed her eyes and asked him a question that chilled him to the bones, “But do you still think you’re stronger than me?”

            She flared out her shoulders and stepping closer standing right next to him, her broad shoulders casting a shadow over him. He was now face to face with Beth and the growing fear that she had outgrown him physically was never stronger, just like Beth and her muscles. He didn’t know how to respond to her, just as he also couldn’t help but look at her thick lustrous muscles and compare them to his, and he didn’t like what he was seeing… Just like he didn’t like to be cowed by his girlfriend, he was an man after all, and suddenly he knew he had his response.

            He swallowed, his bravado faltering. “Of course I am. I’m a man. Men are stronger.”

            “Is that so,” she said, her voice low and sultry, and she wasn’t really asking as there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down his spine.

            “That’s it,” he snapped. “Arm-wrestle me. Now!”

            Beth’s eyes lit up. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to embarrass you…”

            He opened his mouth to retort, but no words came out. Looking at her now, he didn’t just have second doubts, but third, and fourth and fifth doubts and a whole lot more as he was really hoping she wouldn’t call his bluff, and that all those buff lustrous muscles of hers were just full of bluster and not steely strength. The last thing he wanted was to back down, but a small, nagging doubt had wormed its way into his mind. Her muscles were… well, they were big. Bigger than he had ever seen on a woman. They were now even bigger than his own. And she had been training so much harder… That he thought perhaps her muscles were also harder than his too!

            “Yes,” he finally said, trying to sound confident. “Fine. Let’s do it!”

            They cleared a spot on the kitchen table, Beth sitting across from him, her eyes locked on his. He placed his elbow down, his hand open, and she did the same

            “Ready?” Beth asked, her smile almost gentle, but her grip was anything but, as their hands clasped, he felt the strength in her grip, the way her fingers wrapped around his with a firmness that made his stomach churn.

            “Go!” Jake barked, pushing with all his might, he wanted to get ahead of Beth, to try to end this match before it even begun.

            For a moment, they were evenly matched. Jake grunted, his face reddening as he put everything he had into it, but Beth’s arm didn’t budge. Not an inch. Her bicep swelled, veins snaking across the surface as she slowly began to overpower him. The table creaked under the pressure, and Jake groaned once again, and Beth smirked, applying just enough pressure to let him know that she was toying with him. And his face would have turned red from embarrassment if it had not already done so from the strain of the match, and beads of sweat started forming on his brow.

            He wasn’t just literally sweating, but also figuratively sweating, as he knew there was no way he was going to win this match, and he knew that the growing fear of his—the fear of becoming weaker than his girlfriend—had finally come true, as Beth had finally grown stronger than him!

            Beth sighed, almost bored, and then, with a smooth, controlled motion, she slammed his hand down onto the table. In desperation Jake poured out every last ounce of his manly strength, but his manly strength was impotent next to Beth’s feminine might, and he not only couldn’t check her overpowering muscular onslaught, but he also couldn’t even slow his arms descent, and his manly pride descended down with his defeated arm. His entire world spun, his arms trembled, and the entire table shook from the sudden slamming of his arm.

            Jake stared at their hands, disbelief washing over him and washing away any belief that he could have ever won. He shouldn’t have been surprised that he lost—if he’d just looked at the way her muscles dwarfed his, he’d never have questioned how she had beaten him. The realization hit him just as hard as when his hand had been slammed down onto the table: his girlfriend had just beaten him in arm-wrestling. His arm and shoulder ached from the effort, but worse was the ache of realizing that he had just been overpowered—by his girlfriend.

            Beth let go of his hand, leaning back with a satisfied grin. She flexed her arm again, admiring the way the muscle bulged. “Looks like I’m stronger,” she said, her voice dripping with triumph.

            He wanted to argue, to say something, but his throat was dry, his heart pounding in his chest. This couldn’t be happening. It was his worst nightmare come true. He was weaker than his girlfriend—weaker than her. And she was reveling in it, her eyes shining with a mixture of triumph and something else—superiority—unbridled superiority. While she was reveling in her dominance, he just wanted to retreat, to get away from everything—her, his ego, and most importantly, his humiliation. The realization was too much to bear, and before he could stop himself, he was backing away, his legs moving on their own, retreating from the scene. He needed to escape, to find some corner where he could hide from the reality that had just shattered his world.

            Jake stumbled into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He braced himself against the sink, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his head bowed in shame. When he raised his eyes, he was greeted by a stranger—this was the first time he’d truly seen himself. Gone was the illusion of the strong alpha male; that was shattered when his girlfriend slammed his hand down on the table. Looking at himself now, he wanted to shatter the mirror. Gone too were his muscles—he wasn’t just a little softer around the edges, the definition in his muscles not as sharp as it once was, just as his definition of strength was no longer the same. He never thought a man like him could lose to a woman, even one as strong as his girlfriend Beth. He used to be a jock, but now, looking at himself, his muscles were more of a joke, especially when compared to Beth’s mighty female muscles. It took all the remaining strength he had to get out of the bathroom and face the rest of the day…Even if he spent it as far away from Beth as possible.

            That night, he stewed, the humiliation gnawing at him. He could barely look at her, and it was later in the bedroom when he finally did, and when he saw her again his breath caught in his throat. There she was, larger than life—or at least larger than Jake and his past-prime, ex-jock joke of a physique. Beth was wearing one of his old football t-shirts again, but this time, it was different. The shirt clung to her body, tighter than ever, the fabric stretched to its absolute limit. Her legs, bare and powerful, engorged in their muscular glory and flexed and wiggled and wobbled as her silky steely sinews stretched and swelled as she walked toward him, rippling with each step. The shirt, once so large on her, now barely covered her upper torso, the hem riding up to reveal the bottom of her abs—tight, chiseled, and undeniably strong, and undeniably one of the sexiest sights Jake ever seen.

            She smiled at him, a knowing smile that made his stomach twist in knots, she knew he wanted her body, both out of jealousy and lust, and that fueled her own lust. And then, slowly, she began to flex…

            Her shoulders swept out to her sides and swelled, the fabric of the shirt straining against the muscle. Her chest expanded, her breasts bulging and bosom blossoming with muscularity as thick slabs of muscle pushed the material outwards against the seams, her pecs so wide and muscular, and her back so broad, that the shirt rose up further and now the bottom of her abs were fully visible. And then she flexed her arms, her biceps rising like mountains, thick and powerful.

            The sleeves didn’t stand a chance.

            With a loud rip, the fabric tore apart, her biceps bursting through, the shredded material hanging off her like tattered rags. And looking at her all his prior notions of masculinity and muscular supremacy were shredded and ripped apart just like how his shirt sleeves were ripped and torn. Looking at her he now knew what true strength looked like, and it was standing in front of him in all her gorgeously engorged muscular glory. She looked at him, her eyes glinting with a mix of pride and amusement, and flexed harder, the muscle swelling even more.

            Jake was frozen, scared stiff in more ways than one. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt a different kind of pressure building in his pants. He was in awe, he was in lust, he was jealous, envious, in love—but also, he was scared—terrified of what she had become—ashamed at how weak he had become—and he didn’t know how she could love a weakling like him. And just the thought of how easily she had manhandled him during their arm-wrestling match—or was it woman-handled?—sent another shiver down his spine. Thinking about how he wanted her to woman-handle him again in so many unique and naughty ways sent a sensual shiver down to his love bone.

            Beth stepped closer, her eyes locking onto his. She could see the fear in him, the way he trembled, and she knew exactly what was happening to him. “There’s no need to be scared,” she whispered, her voice a mix of seduction and dominance. “You’re going to love these muscles…”

            And then, with a smile that promised so much more, she showed him exactly why he shouldn’t be afraid.

            Even though, deep down, Jake knew he was more scared than ever, and she crushed, squeezed, teased, pleased, and manhandled—make that woman-handled—him every which way possible, and in some ways Jake never dreamed were possible…

            And God help him, he loved every second of it, and he came to love those muscles of hers, over and over again…