MAGGIE PART 7 - UP NEXT (Patreon)

G.J. ITZBERGEN'S intense glimpse into female muscle and fetish from both a male and female perspective.

STORY: G.J ITZBERGEN

ILLUSTRATED/EDITED: MICHELLE LE RAINBOW

PART 7 

“When  I was 12, I remember sneaking out of my house and going to a local bank about a mile away.  My mom had set me up with an account to learn about  money, maybe there was $20 in the account, and it was the only access  to money my parents allowed me.” Forest sighed, biting his  upper lip; he glanced up at Maggie for assurance. Having leaned forward  as he began, Maggie’s vision had narrowed, and her pulse slowed. She could feel the pounding of her heartbeat in her fingertips and toes. Her singular focus and interest are absolute. With Maggie’s body language offering encouragement, Forest continued.

“I  remember shaking like a leaf as I filled out a withdrawal form for  $5.00.  I felt like I was welcoming the very heartbeat of pure evil into  my heart, woefully embracing the worst sin of my life.  The woman  working the teller thought I was so cute; she smiled at me happily as  she handed me five dollars.  I walked another mile to a grocery store.”

“At  least a half dozen times, I walked down the magazine aisle.  Every time  I got close to the Muscle & Fitness magazine sporting the most  muscular woman I’d seen in my young life on the cover. Her name was  Corey Everson, and she was one of the women strong enough to break  through all the paradigms. She was intoxicating. Muscles and curves.  Deeply beautiful. I broke into a cold sweat standing in front of the  magazine rack.”

Clearing  his throat, Forest closed his eyes, squeezing them shut. Maggie could  see his shoulders shaking. She could feel the palpable terror in his  vulnerability cascading towards her. The lump returned in her throat,  she wanted to reach out and hold him as he talked, to reassure him. But,  instead, she stayed fixed, focused, in her spot, staring at the  terrified handsome man in his most trusting, vulnerable state.

“Finally,  when no one else was in the aisle, I grabbed a shiny copy and rushed to  the checkout,” Forest continued. “Looking down at my shoes, I handed  the lady my sweaty, creased, five-dollar bill as perspiration tickled my  forehead.  Even with my head bowed in terror, I could feel her glare  boring a hole in the top of my head as she stuffed that beautiful woman  on the cover in a plastic bag. I ran-walked out the sliding doors as  fast as my chubby legs could carry me.” Raising a shaking hand to his forward, Forest wiped the sweat from his brow and chuckled, then shook his head and laughed.
  
  He’s so nervous, Maggie thought.