Stress Test - Ellie's Academy (Part 2) (Patreon)

I had promised an update with this this month, and I wanted to put this out for those waiting for it - it's not quite as polished as I'd like, and for the final version I'd like to revisit some of it, but for now, hope you like this extra preview of Ellie's story where we see things ramping up!

Part 1: https://www.patreon.com/posts/stress-test-part-80722751

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 "Yes, Ma'am!" she barked back - not all Academy Coaches expected to be addressed as such, but Ellie knew Zoe well enough. The woman demanded perfection and obedience to an extreme degree even for the Academy, though Ellie respected it. It made for a good challenge, a trial by fire of the perfect discipline she had been honing for years now. What she respected less, was what Zoe did to the poor girls who couldn't live up to her standards. At least right now, Ellie was getting a training session and also sparing some poor black collar girl the woman's wrath. While she repped, Zoe added weights with random timing and no warning but for the momentary screech of metal that rang Ellie's ears. While her pace and breaths remained unchanged, the pressure was building. Her leotard felt tight over her sensitive skin, squeezing her as her ab muscles began to swell and pump. There was only so long that she would be able to keep up the air of invincibility, and both knew it. The stack of weights grew past Ellie's bodyweight. Past double it, each applied with all the care of a sledgehammer, eventually dwarfing the gymnast draped over the stand in front of it, lifting it over and over with nothing but her abdominal strength.

 A loud, long grunt accompanied another deep crunch from Ellie. She scrunched her eyes closed and felt another drop of sweat fall from her flushed nose. She didn't feel it hit her stomach, she only felt the burning hot mass of flexed bricks grinding against each other. Letting the weight down was as hard as lifting it up, as she forced herself to keep it slow, and under control. The weights clanged as she hit the bottom of the rep, found time for one quick breath that pushed every detail of her chiselled chest out against her wet leotard, and then gave another flex. "Guuh..." she growled, still staring forward. Her pale legs had reddened now as her whole body heated up and flushed. They were as wet with sweat as the rest of her, shimmering and trickling with droplets that followed the deep valleys of muscle. The pair had been here a long time now, Ellie had lost count of the minutes and reps, which was interesting - normally she was excellent at keeping track. The genius, or brutality of this device was in it's hyperfocus on her stomach. Had the weight been in her grip, or on her ankles, her grip or her legs would have given in long ago. With her upper and lower body secured in the tight straps, the entire training session was simply a case of working her ab muscles over and over for as long as they could go. This was possibly more weight than Ellie had ever lifted with her abs, and it was making the brand new, solid metal machine creak beneath her. Once again she curled her upper body up, and at the peak of the movement while she could feel the unyielding weight threatening to rip apart her abs, she grinned, and slowly let it down with a shaky sigh.

 But that grin eventually had to give way. Her controlled, powerful flexing decaying into shaking, jittery and desperate movement. Ellie found herself fighting for every rep, and going through the same slow, brutal struggle every single time as her Coach coldly looked on. She shook, moaned, yelled but didn't stop. Her body was distinctly different compared to the start of the exercise. Her muscles seemed more lean and pumped as the flexed fibres squeezed her pale skin. The same effect, though even more pronounced was taking place on her stomach. The now seemingly undersized blue leotard caught between every heaving ab muscle, moulding to the deep crevasses between her central ab muscles and even the sharpest cuts of her feathered obliques. Whenever she curled the fabric stretched so far that it looked to be under real strain as her hard working muscles swelled to their fullest. It hurt her body to work with this much weight, not just her abs - her whole body. At the bottom of the movement, she was painfully pulled back, the cushioning of the pad at her back not quite enough to keep her spine from pressing harshly against the metal base. The thick leather straps that had originally been wrapped tightly around her chest, arms, legs and shoulders were now crushing her pumped muscles. The sweat soaking her skin let them move just enough to rub her skin raw, all while digging in harder with every lift. She could ignore it. Push it out. What made her scream for the first time was the inferno tearing her abs apart. Before she had even finished her outburst, another weight slammed onto the stack she was lifting and made her body throb. But she crunched and lifted again. The weights rose and fell. Again. Again. She was moaning, yelling, going faster. Her fiery hair had come loose at some point and was sticking to her face. Her whole body shook, but she squeezed her horrendously sore abs and rose yet again. As she screamed, spittle flew from her mouth and hit her thighs. Ellie was going for broke here and knew it, using this gasp of strength and energy, overloading herself to squeeze out as many reps as she could before running out of steam. She just had to keep the weight moving, keep flexing, keep focusing on her abs as her body curled like a snapping maw. Ellie could feel her heartbeat in her neck, her ears, her head. The weights were deafening, screeching and hammering down with multiple times her own body weight. Again, through the breaths and heat she had no concept of how many reps had fallen.

(Note: Sometimes I write a section for a part of the story I haven't reached yet and stitch them together later on - below is a very unfinished preview!)

 Though legendary even amongst the strongest girls in the Academy, Ellie's stomach was still made of flesh, muscle and blood. It took hours of toil but eventually, inevitably, the mighty gold collar found herself pinned. Her body was painfully pulled back in a deep arch around the stand, with forced a harsh pressure on her back. The thick, strained leather straps had worn sores on her flushed skin, now tighter than ever because of the pump of her muscles.  

 She had her eyes closed tight, teeth bared and gritted as she sucked in small, fast breaths.  

 It would be nice to say that Ellie fought the good fight, and showed nothing but stoicism in the face of the incessant torture that Zoe called training. But the odds were so comically stacked against her - Zoe held the every advantage for as long as Ellie respected the Academy's rules, and Ellie was a good student. She was a girl who refused to say no to a challenge, and never back out of an opportunity to train. It took a fanatical kind of boldness to reach the point that she had, with countless hours of brutal training both under the watch of trainers, students and in isolation. Even this, however worked to Zoe's advantage...