Thinking

Jane lounged at the river’s edge, the light gleaming off her flawless, silver-blue skin. Each lazy flex of her torso sent her abs rippling like cosmic marble. A soft cosmic drink shimmered in her hand — her so-called “growing fluid” — and she took a slow, indulgent sip while watching the jungle move around her like background decoration.

She glanced at her reflection in the water, smiled, and slowly ran a hand over her chiseled midsection.

“This feels so right. My body’s not just strong—it’s divine. Look at these abs. One flex and they look carved by starlight. I could write poetry with these lines. No wonder vines stop growing when I walk by.”

From the distance, Tarzan was training. Or trying.

He strained to lift a hefty stone, his lean, glistening muscles trembling. Jane tilted her head slightly.

“Aw... look at him. Trying so hard. That rock? I lifted that with one arm while adjusting my bikini strap. He grunts like he’s doing something. Bless him. The jungle’s little gym rat.”

She stood up, stretching in the sunlight. Her body unfolded like a supernova — every muscle glowing and defined. She strolled over to a tree nearby, gripped it casually, and pulled it from the ground with one hand. The roots crackled as she hoisted it like a baton and spun it once for fun.

“I remember when he used to be the ‘muscle king.’ Chest out, chin up, the whole ‘I’m wild and powerful’ thing. And yeah... I liked it. It was cute. Rugged. I had my Tarzan phase. But then came the transformation. One sip of this growing fluid and boom—new goddess just dropped.”

She laughed as she lowered the tree and returned to the riverside, her flexed back casting long shadows. She raised her drink in a tiny toast to herself.

“These muscles aren’t just bulk. They’re legacy. I became the storm. My calves flex and gorillas sit down. My traps peak higher than the treetops. When I enter the jungle, birds go silent. Even sunlight stops to admire the curves.”

She took another long sip, her biceps tightening from the effort.

“Mazina’s been trying lately. She poses like she’s in a competition, bless her big little heart. Last time I saw her flex, I almost gave her a sticker. It’s adorable. She’s got some size, I’ll give her that, but no edge. I don’t compete. I demonstrate.”

Her gaze drifted back to Tarzan, who was now leaning against a rock, panting. His jungle-boy charm still intact.

“He’s still cute, though. Wild, scruffy, determined. He thinks I don’t notice the way he stares when I walk by. Oh, honey... you practically trip over your own tongue. He’s completely crazy for me. And I love it. But no—no sharing. I don’t want to upset the balance. We don’t need another muscle goddess here. I want to be the only.”

She reclined again, drink in hand, flexing one thigh just because it felt good. Her quad surged upward like a mountain range under glass.

“Can you imagine two of me? Please. The planet would tip.”

She laughed, deeply satisfied with herself, and gently rubbed her shoulders with oil from a nearby bottle—each motion a show of dominance over gravity itself.

“I’ve got all the power, all the presence, all the muscle. And I’m not about to give that up just so Tarzan can feel strong again. He had his time. Now he carries my gym bag.”

“And Mazina? I can defeat her whenever I want. If she ever steps up again, I’ll use her as a warm-up set. Maybe I’ll let her spot me while I bench press an asteroid.”

“This power? It stays right here. Right inside this body. This is my jungle now. My legacy. My biceps. My rules. Worshipping me should be an Olympic sport.”

She finished the last of her growing fluid, let out a satisfied sigh, and whispered to herself with a smirk:

“I don’t just flex... I reign.”