No, she is not surprised
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 8
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Carolyne stood in front of the mirror a moment longer, turning sideways, then back, flexing her arms again just to watch the new, clean definition ripple under her skin. Her reflection looked… expensive. Like someone had quietly upgraded the hardware while she wasn’t looking. She tilted her head, lips pursing.
“Qué raro,” she muttered, but the words carried no real worry. Bodies changed. She trained hard, ate whatever she wanted, slept when she felt like it. Maybe she’d finally hit that sweet spot where volleyball conditioning and genetics decided to cash in at the same time. Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe she was just vain enough to see what she wanted to see.
She shrugged, flicked her curls back over one shoulder, and grabbed her phone and lip gloss. Whatever this was, it felt good. She’d figure it out later—or not. Right now she felt restless, wired, like static under her skin begging to be spent.
She left the room without changing, the cropped tank and low-rise jeans clinging in ways that made every step feel deliberate, powerful. The hallway smelled of burnt popcorn and someone’s cheap body spray. She took the stairs down two at a time, barely touching the rail, landing lighter than she remembered.
Outside the dorm the January air bit sharp, but the sun was still out, weak and pale. Sofia, Miguel, and Jenna were already waiting near the bike racks—Sofia sketching something on her tablet, Miguel scrolling on his phone, Jenna taking mirror selfies with the dorm as backdrop.
They looked up as Carolyne approached.
“Finally,” Jenna said, pocketing her phone. “Thought you died in there.”
Carolyne rolled her eyes. “Class got canceled. Kwon sent some bullshit email about equipment calibration. Nobody told me till I was already halfway across campus. Waste of my damn time.”
Miguel glanced up, smirking. “You look pissed. Want me to go break his keyboard for you?”
“Tempting.” She stretched her arms overhead, feeling her shoulders roll smoothly, more fluid than usual. The motion pulled her tank higher, exposing more of her midriff. The silver hoop caught the light.
Sofia’s pencil paused. She squinted, head tilting like she was trying to solve a perspective problem. “Your stomach looks… different.”
Carolyne froze mid-stretch, then dropped her arms. “What?”
“I mean—” Sofia gestured vaguely at Carolyne’s torso. “Like… tighter? Or something. I don’t know. Maybe it’s the shirt.”
Jenna leaned in, squinting too. “Yeah… kinda snatched today, reina. Did you do extra crunches or what?”
Miguel snorted without looking up from his phone. “She always looks snatched. Y’all just thirsty.”
Carolyne laughed—short, sharp, dismissive. “Ay, por favor. It’s called good genes and better lighting. Stop staring like you’ve never seen abs before.” Inside, though, a tiny spark of curiosity flickered. They’d noticed something. Not enough to matter, but enough to register.
She pushed the thought aside. “Whatever. I’m bored. What now?”
“Lunch?” Jenna suggested immediately. “I’m starving. There’s that new fast-food spot on Maple—the one with the triple-stacked burgers and the chili-cheese fries everyone’s posting about.”
Carolyne opened her mouth to say no—she wasn’t hungry, not really, not after the insane amount she’d shoveled down at El Sabor earlier. But before the refusal left her lips, her stomach let out a growl so loud and deep it echoed off the brick wall behind them.
All three heads snapped toward her.
“Jesus,” Miguel said, eyebrows shooting up. “Was that you or a bear?”
Carolyne pressed a hand to her abdomen, startled. The hunger wasn’t the clawing void from before, but it was still serious—urgent, insistent, like her body had just remembered it was running on fumes. Her mouth watered at the thought of grease and salt.
“…Fine,” she said, trying to sound annoyed instead of relieved. “But if the fries are soggy I’m burning the place down.”
They walked the four blocks to Burger Bonanza, the cold air turning their breath to smoke. Carolyne moved ahead of the group without thinking, strides longer, posture straighter. She didn’t notice how easily she kept pace with Miguel now, how her legs felt spring-loaded.
Inside the restaurant smelled like hot oil and caramelized onions. Neon signs buzzed. They ordered at the counter—Jenna got a chicken sandwich combo, Sofia a veggie wrap, Miguel a double cheeseburger meal. Carolyne stared at the glowing menu board for half a second, then ordered without hesitation.
“Triple-stack bacon cheeseburger, large fries, large onion rings, large chili-cheese fries, side of mozzarella sticks, and a large chocolate shake. Oh—and extra ranch.”
The cashier blinked. “You… want all that separate or…?”
“Separate,” Carolyne said, already sliding her card across the counter. “And make it quick.”
Her friends exchanged looks behind her back.
They found a booth near the window. When the trays came out, the table groaned under the weight of Carolyne’s haul. She attacked it methodically—burger first, two-handed, sauce dripping onto the wrapper. Then fries by the fistful. Onion rings disappeared in three bites each. She dipped mozzarella sticks in ranch like it was her job.
Halfway through, Jenna set her sandwich down. “Caro… you sure you’re okay? That’s, like… a lot.”
“I’m hungry,” Carolyne said around a mouthful of burger. Ketchup smeared the corner of her lip; she licked it off without breaking rhythm. “Mind your business.”
Miguel leaned back, arms crossed. “You’re gonna blow up like a balloon, reina. That much grease in one sitting?”
Carolyne swallowed, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and fixed him with those dark, unblinking eyes. “First of all, I don’t *get* fat. Second, if I do, I’ll just make it look expensive. Third—” She reached across and stole a fry from his tray, popping it into her mouth. “—you’re jealous I can eat like this and still look better than you ever will.”
Sofia laughed nervously. “She’s not wrong.”
They let it drop, but the glances kept coming—furtive, confused. Carolyne ignored them. She kept eating. And as the calories went down, something else happened beneath the surface.
The nanobots—silent, efficient, relentless—converted every bite into raw material. Protein braided into denser muscle fibers. Lipids reinforced cell membranes. Glucose fed ATP factories that ran at triple speed. They didn’t waste a single kilojoule. They rebuilt.
Carolyne’s tank top grew subtly tighter across her shoulders and chest. The underwire of her bra pressed a little more insistently. Her jeans hugged her thighs and glutes with fresh pressure, the waistband sitting a fraction lower as her obliques sharpened. Her biceps, when she reached for the shake, rounded slightly more than they had an hour ago. Her calves flexed against the denim with new, visible separation.
No one commented. The changes were still too incremental—too perfectly distributed—to scream transformation. But the air around her felt thicker, charged. She moved differently now: shoulders back, chin higher, every gesture carrying a little more mass and momentum.
She finished the last of the chili-cheese fries, licked her fingers clean, and leaned back with a satisfied sigh. Her stomach didn’t hurt. It didn’t even feel full. It felt… ready.
“Damn,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “That hit the spot.”
Miguel raised an eyebrow. “You gonna be able to walk after that?”
Carolyne grinned—slow, sharp, predatory. “Papi, I could run a marathon right now.”
She didn’t know how right she was.
Who win?
“Qué raro,” she muttered, but the words carried no real worry. Bodies changed. She trained hard, ate whatever she wanted, slept when she felt like it. Maybe she’d finally hit that sweet spot where volleyball conditioning and genetics decided to cash in at the same time. Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe she was just vain enough to see what she wanted to see.
She shrugged, flicked her curls back over one shoulder, and grabbed her phone and lip gloss. Whatever this was, it felt good. She’d figure it out later—or not. Right now she felt restless, wired, like static under her skin begging to be spent.
She left the room without changing, the cropped tank and low-rise jeans clinging in ways that made every step feel deliberate, powerful. The hallway smelled of burnt popcorn and someone’s cheap body spray. She took the stairs down two at a time, barely touching the rail, landing lighter than she remembered.
Outside the dorm the January air bit sharp, but the sun was still out, weak and pale. Sofia, Miguel, and Jenna were already waiting near the bike racks—Sofia sketching something on her tablet, Miguel scrolling on his phone, Jenna taking mirror selfies with the dorm as backdrop.
They looked up as Carolyne approached.
“Finally,” Jenna said, pocketing her phone. “Thought you died in there.”
Carolyne rolled her eyes. “Class got canceled. Kwon sent some bullshit email about equipment calibration. Nobody told me till I was already halfway across campus. Waste of my damn time.”
Miguel glanced up, smirking. “You look pissed. Want me to go break his keyboard for you?”
“Tempting.” She stretched her arms overhead, feeling her shoulders roll smoothly, more fluid than usual. The motion pulled her tank higher, exposing more of her midriff. The silver hoop caught the light.
Sofia’s pencil paused. She squinted, head tilting like she was trying to solve a perspective problem. “Your stomach looks… different.”
Carolyne froze mid-stretch, then dropped her arms. “What?”
“I mean—” Sofia gestured vaguely at Carolyne’s torso. “Like… tighter? Or something. I don’t know. Maybe it’s the shirt.”
Jenna leaned in, squinting too. “Yeah… kinda snatched today, reina. Did you do extra crunches or what?”
Miguel snorted without looking up from his phone. “She always looks snatched. Y’all just thirsty.”
Carolyne laughed—short, sharp, dismissive. “Ay, por favor. It’s called good genes and better lighting. Stop staring like you’ve never seen abs before.” Inside, though, a tiny spark of curiosity flickered. They’d noticed something. Not enough to matter, but enough to register.
She pushed the thought aside. “Whatever. I’m bored. What now?”
“Lunch?” Jenna suggested immediately. “I’m starving. There’s that new fast-food spot on Maple—the one with the triple-stacked burgers and the chili-cheese fries everyone’s posting about.”
Carolyne opened her mouth to say no—she wasn’t hungry, not really, not after the insane amount she’d shoveled down at El Sabor earlier. But before the refusal left her lips, her stomach let out a growl so loud and deep it echoed off the brick wall behind them.
All three heads snapped toward her.
“Jesus,” Miguel said, eyebrows shooting up. “Was that you or a bear?”
Carolyne pressed a hand to her abdomen, startled. The hunger wasn’t the clawing void from before, but it was still serious—urgent, insistent, like her body had just remembered it was running on fumes. Her mouth watered at the thought of grease and salt.
“…Fine,” she said, trying to sound annoyed instead of relieved. “But if the fries are soggy I’m burning the place down.”
They walked the four blocks to Burger Bonanza, the cold air turning their breath to smoke. Carolyne moved ahead of the group without thinking, strides longer, posture straighter. She didn’t notice how easily she kept pace with Miguel now, how her legs felt spring-loaded.
Inside the restaurant smelled like hot oil and caramelized onions. Neon signs buzzed. They ordered at the counter—Jenna got a chicken sandwich combo, Sofia a veggie wrap, Miguel a double cheeseburger meal. Carolyne stared at the glowing menu board for half a second, then ordered without hesitation.
“Triple-stack bacon cheeseburger, large fries, large onion rings, large chili-cheese fries, side of mozzarella sticks, and a large chocolate shake. Oh—and extra ranch.”
The cashier blinked. “You… want all that separate or…?”
“Separate,” Carolyne said, already sliding her card across the counter. “And make it quick.”
Her friends exchanged looks behind her back.
They found a booth near the window. When the trays came out, the table groaned under the weight of Carolyne’s haul. She attacked it methodically—burger first, two-handed, sauce dripping onto the wrapper. Then fries by the fistful. Onion rings disappeared in three bites each. She dipped mozzarella sticks in ranch like it was her job.
Halfway through, Jenna set her sandwich down. “Caro… you sure you’re okay? That’s, like… a lot.”
“I’m hungry,” Carolyne said around a mouthful of burger. Ketchup smeared the corner of her lip; she licked it off without breaking rhythm. “Mind your business.”
Miguel leaned back, arms crossed. “You’re gonna blow up like a balloon, reina. That much grease in one sitting?”
Carolyne swallowed, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and fixed him with those dark, unblinking eyes. “First of all, I don’t *get* fat. Second, if I do, I’ll just make it look expensive. Third—” She reached across and stole a fry from his tray, popping it into her mouth. “—you’re jealous I can eat like this and still look better than you ever will.”
Sofia laughed nervously. “She’s not wrong.”
They let it drop, but the glances kept coming—furtive, confused. Carolyne ignored them. She kept eating. And as the calories went down, something else happened beneath the surface.
The nanobots—silent, efficient, relentless—converted every bite into raw material. Protein braided into denser muscle fibers. Lipids reinforced cell membranes. Glucose fed ATP factories that ran at triple speed. They didn’t waste a single kilojoule. They rebuilt.
Carolyne’s tank top grew subtly tighter across her shoulders and chest. The underwire of her bra pressed a little more insistently. Her jeans hugged her thighs and glutes with fresh pressure, the waistband sitting a fraction lower as her obliques sharpened. Her biceps, when she reached for the shake, rounded slightly more than they had an hour ago. Her calves flexed against the denim with new, visible separation.
No one commented. The changes were still too incremental—too perfectly distributed—to scream transformation. But the air around her felt thicker, charged. She moved differently now: shoulders back, chin higher, every gesture carrying a little more mass and momentum.
She finished the last of the chili-cheese fries, licked her fingers clean, and leaned back with a satisfied sigh. Her stomach didn’t hurt. It didn’t even feel full. It felt… ready.
“Damn,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “That hit the spot.”
Miguel raised an eyebrow. “You gonna be able to walk after that?”
Carolyne grinned—slow, sharp, predatory. “Papi, I could run a marathon right now.”
She didn’t know how right she was.
Who win?
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·
June 13
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