The "Totally Norma" Morning
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 10
by
copier
· original author:
an188
The next morning in Havenridge Estates dawned bright and sunny, as annoyingly perfect as always. Cindy Phillips stood in front of her massive walk-in closet, now towering at 6'2" of golden-bronze, shredded muscle. She stared at her reflection with pure narcissistic delight, slowly flexing her massive biceps one at a time. The peaks rose like mountains under her taut, vein-laced skin, her eight-pack abs casting deep shadows, and her enormous, gravity-defying breasts sat high and proud on her thick chest. Her long golden-blonde hair flowed past her muscular glutes like liquid sunshine.
“Looking good, girl,” she purred in her exaggerated Canadian-valley-girl drawl. “But the peasants can’t know about Super-Karen yet. Time to play dress-up, eh?”
She squeezed into the baggiest clothes she could find: an oversized black hoodie that still stretched dangerously tight across her lats and chest, loose sweatpants that clung to her tree-trunk quads, and a baseball cap pulled low. Even then, she looked suspiciously jacked — like a fitness model trying (and failing) to hide. Richard watched nervously from the doorway. “Cindy, maybe you should stay home today. This could go wrong so easily—”
“Shush, Richie-poo. Mommy’s got this,” she said, giving him a playful (but still too strong) pat on the cheek that nearly knocked him over. “I’m just a normal, tired housewife today. Totally normal.”
Downstairs, breakfast was a comedy of barely-contained super-strength. When Cindy tried to pour orange juice, the carton exploded in her grip, sending a fountain of juice across the kitchen. “Whoops! Slippery hands, eh?” she laughed, quickly mopping it up with super speed before the kids noticed too much. Jamie and Adrian watched with sparkling eyes, barely able to contain their excitement at their new “Almighty Muscle Mom.”
School drop-off was where the real fun began.
Cindy drove the white Range Rover as usual, but every time she gripped the steering wheel too hard, it let out alarming creaks. At the drop-off lane she leaned out the window for her usual over-the-top goodbyes.
“Bye, Jamie-Wamie! Knock ‘em dead at cheer practice, my princess! Love you to the moon and back, eh?” She reached out to ruffle her daughter’s hair and accidentally lifted the entire 110-pound girl a few inches off the ground before setting her down. Jamie giggled. A few nearby moms raised eyebrows.
Then came Adrian. “Addie-Bear, my big strong champ! Crush that track today!” She gave him an encouraging hug and nearly squeezed the air out of him. Adrian just beamed with pride. “Mom’s been working out a lot lately!” he announced loudly to anyone listening.
One nosy mother, Brenda, called over, “Cindy, you look… different. Have you been hitting the gym hard?”
Cindy forced a sweet smile, her voice dripping with fake modesty. “Oh, just a little toning, eh? Nothing special.” Inside, she was dying to flex and show off.
Next stop: her daily shopping spree.
At the organic grocery store, disaster loomed. Cindy reached for a high shelf of kale and accidentally ripped the entire metal rack off the wall with one hand. Cans and boxes tumbled everywhere. She caught most of them in a blur of super speed, stacking them neatly before the manager even turned around. “Clumsy me!” she chirped. “These shelves are so poorly made these days.”
The manager stared at the slightly bent rack. “Ma’am, how did you—”
“Strong core from all my yoga,” Cindy lied smoothly, flexing her abs under the hoodie (which made the fabric strain audibly). She argued with the cashier for ten minutes over a two-dollar coupon anyway, because old habits die hard, even when you can bench-press cars.
At the boutique, things got worse. She tried on a dress in the fitting room and flexed experimentally in the mirror. Her lats flared so wide she got temporarily stuck in the tiny stall. “Oh my gawd, come on!” she whispered, ripping the door off its hinges with a tiny tug before quickly propping it back up. The salesgirl heard the noise and rushed over. Cindy emerged looking innocent. “These doors are so flimsy, eh? You should complain to management.”
By the time she reached the coffee shop, her enhanced senses were driving her crazy. She could smell every burnt espresso bean from three blocks away and hear the barista whispering about “that entitled blonde lady” before she even entered. When her latte came with “uneven foam” again, she almost crushed the cup into powder but caught herself just in time. “Totally fine, thanks!” she said through gritted teeth, while her free hand accidentally bent the metal napkin holder into a pretzel shape behind her back.
Back home, she barely made it through complaining to Maria the cleaner (“The baseboards still aren’t perfect, eh?”) without accidentally super-speed dusting the entire living room in two seconds flat.
As she stood in the kitchen, sweat starting to show through her hoodie from the effort of holding back, Cindy finally paused. Hiding her powers was harder than she thought. The near-misses were piling up, and the neighborhood busybodies were already suspicious.
She looked at her reflection in the stainless steel fridge (which she had quietly straightened earlier) and a new, clever idea sparked in her super-enhanced brain.
With a wicked, smug grin spreading across her face, Cindy turned to Richard, who had been trailing her all morning looking exhausted.
“You know what, Richie-poo? Maybe I don’t have to hide forever. I could just tell everyone I’ve gotten super into bodybuilding lately. Like, competitively. That would explain the muscles, the height, the bronze tan… everything! ‘Oh, I’ve been training really hard for my first figure competition,’ I’ll say. ‘It’s all diet and weights, eh?’ No one will question a hot mom getting jacked for the stage. And when I’m ready… I can ‘accidentally’ show off more and more until the whole town knows who the real queen of Havenridge is.”
She struck a subtle most-muscular pose under the hoodie, her traps and chest straining the fabric. “Brilliant, right? Beauty, power, and the perfect cover story. Who’s the smartest Super-Karen now?”
Richard just groaned.
Cindy laughed, already plotting her “bodybuilding debut” and how she could use it to dominate the PTA, the HOA, and every annoying neighbor who had ever crossed her.
The reign of the hidden (but barely) Almighty Muscle Mom was only beginning.
How Cindy’s “bodybuilding” cover story unfolds:
1. Cindy starts spreading the “I’m training for a bodybuilding/figure competition” story at the next PTA meeting, but her uncontrollable super strength and senses cause hilarious slip-ups while she tries to act normal.
2. She decides to “train” openly in the backyard garden where neighbors can see, using her powers subtly (or not-so-subtly) while pretending it’s all natural gym progress, leading to gossip and jealousy exploding across Havenridge Estates.
“Looking good, girl,” she purred in her exaggerated Canadian-valley-girl drawl. “But the peasants can’t know about Super-Karen yet. Time to play dress-up, eh?”
She squeezed into the baggiest clothes she could find: an oversized black hoodie that still stretched dangerously tight across her lats and chest, loose sweatpants that clung to her tree-trunk quads, and a baseball cap pulled low. Even then, she looked suspiciously jacked — like a fitness model trying (and failing) to hide. Richard watched nervously from the doorway. “Cindy, maybe you should stay home today. This could go wrong so easily—”
“Shush, Richie-poo. Mommy’s got this,” she said, giving him a playful (but still too strong) pat on the cheek that nearly knocked him over. “I’m just a normal, tired housewife today. Totally normal.”
Downstairs, breakfast was a comedy of barely-contained super-strength. When Cindy tried to pour orange juice, the carton exploded in her grip, sending a fountain of juice across the kitchen. “Whoops! Slippery hands, eh?” she laughed, quickly mopping it up with super speed before the kids noticed too much. Jamie and Adrian watched with sparkling eyes, barely able to contain their excitement at their new “Almighty Muscle Mom.”
School drop-off was where the real fun began.
Cindy drove the white Range Rover as usual, but every time she gripped the steering wheel too hard, it let out alarming creaks. At the drop-off lane she leaned out the window for her usual over-the-top goodbyes.
“Bye, Jamie-Wamie! Knock ‘em dead at cheer practice, my princess! Love you to the moon and back, eh?” She reached out to ruffle her daughter’s hair and accidentally lifted the entire 110-pound girl a few inches off the ground before setting her down. Jamie giggled. A few nearby moms raised eyebrows.
Then came Adrian. “Addie-Bear, my big strong champ! Crush that track today!” She gave him an encouraging hug and nearly squeezed the air out of him. Adrian just beamed with pride. “Mom’s been working out a lot lately!” he announced loudly to anyone listening.
One nosy mother, Brenda, called over, “Cindy, you look… different. Have you been hitting the gym hard?”
Cindy forced a sweet smile, her voice dripping with fake modesty. “Oh, just a little toning, eh? Nothing special.” Inside, she was dying to flex and show off.
Next stop: her daily shopping spree.
At the organic grocery store, disaster loomed. Cindy reached for a high shelf of kale and accidentally ripped the entire metal rack off the wall with one hand. Cans and boxes tumbled everywhere. She caught most of them in a blur of super speed, stacking them neatly before the manager even turned around. “Clumsy me!” she chirped. “These shelves are so poorly made these days.”
The manager stared at the slightly bent rack. “Ma’am, how did you—”
“Strong core from all my yoga,” Cindy lied smoothly, flexing her abs under the hoodie (which made the fabric strain audibly). She argued with the cashier for ten minutes over a two-dollar coupon anyway, because old habits die hard, even when you can bench-press cars.
At the boutique, things got worse. She tried on a dress in the fitting room and flexed experimentally in the mirror. Her lats flared so wide she got temporarily stuck in the tiny stall. “Oh my gawd, come on!” she whispered, ripping the door off its hinges with a tiny tug before quickly propping it back up. The salesgirl heard the noise and rushed over. Cindy emerged looking innocent. “These doors are so flimsy, eh? You should complain to management.”
By the time she reached the coffee shop, her enhanced senses were driving her crazy. She could smell every burnt espresso bean from three blocks away and hear the barista whispering about “that entitled blonde lady” before she even entered. When her latte came with “uneven foam” again, she almost crushed the cup into powder but caught herself just in time. “Totally fine, thanks!” she said through gritted teeth, while her free hand accidentally bent the metal napkin holder into a pretzel shape behind her back.
Back home, she barely made it through complaining to Maria the cleaner (“The baseboards still aren’t perfect, eh?”) without accidentally super-speed dusting the entire living room in two seconds flat.
As she stood in the kitchen, sweat starting to show through her hoodie from the effort of holding back, Cindy finally paused. Hiding her powers was harder than she thought. The near-misses were piling up, and the neighborhood busybodies were already suspicious.
She looked at her reflection in the stainless steel fridge (which she had quietly straightened earlier) and a new, clever idea sparked in her super-enhanced brain.
With a wicked, smug grin spreading across her face, Cindy turned to Richard, who had been trailing her all morning looking exhausted.
“You know what, Richie-poo? Maybe I don’t have to hide forever. I could just tell everyone I’ve gotten super into bodybuilding lately. Like, competitively. That would explain the muscles, the height, the bronze tan… everything! ‘Oh, I’ve been training really hard for my first figure competition,’ I’ll say. ‘It’s all diet and weights, eh?’ No one will question a hot mom getting jacked for the stage. And when I’m ready… I can ‘accidentally’ show off more and more until the whole town knows who the real queen of Havenridge is.”
She struck a subtle most-muscular pose under the hoodie, her traps and chest straining the fabric. “Brilliant, right? Beauty, power, and the perfect cover story. Who’s the smartest Super-Karen now?”
Richard just groaned.
Cindy laughed, already plotting her “bodybuilding debut” and how she could use it to dominate the PTA, the HOA, and every annoying neighbor who had ever crossed her.
The reign of the hidden (but barely) Almighty Muscle Mom was only beginning.
How Cindy’s “bodybuilding” cover story unfolds:
1. Cindy starts spreading the “I’m training for a bodybuilding/figure competition” story at the next PTA meeting, but her uncontrollable super strength and senses cause hilarious slip-ups while she tries to act normal.
2. She decides to “train” openly in the backyard garden where neighbors can see, using her powers subtly (or not-so-subtly) while pretending it’s all natural gym progress, leading to gossip and jealousy exploding across Havenridge Estates.
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June 13
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