Super Fangirl

The pale green nightlight casts a dim light on the pitch-black room. Sweat cold and chest heaving from nightmares. Sitting up, I held my head, wiping the sweat. My chest is heavier than usual. Did torso day enlarge my pecks? I shook my head. The nightmare still burned in my memory. The dream with disgusting pink and ugly femininity trembled my soul. I shoved the perverted dream back, out of my mind and filled it with Tom Brady.

The game last night was an absolute nail-biter, but Brady still stood on top like usual. I smiled at my Brady-signed jersey. The corners of my mouth drew to each ear when I gazed upon my most prized possession: a Brady-signed football used by the legendary quarterback during practice. Around that were other various Patriot merchandise by my trophies I won from the state and national championships. A specific warm floaty feeling filled me when I thought about the scholarship to Alabama University.

I took a foot to my cluttered carpet, my chest feeling much heavier than usual with a larger jersey too. The thing must've been in the wash too long. Clothes everywhere with metal dumbbells hiding beneath them. It was a minefield. An odd risk I enjoyed taking. Each step was a game, and the wrong step caused my cardboard cut out of Brady to fall over. I set it neatly back into position.

I sauntered to the bathroom. Taking a glance at the mirror expecting to see my handsome face. Only to see my sister. A much more gorgeous version of my sister with auburn hair, amber eyes, and a tanned athletic body hiding beneath the jersey-dress. She mimicked my wave. My eyes reached down to the mounds of flesh hugging candidly in my jersey, the nipples poking out. I smacked my crotch. Nothing.
“Ah Fuck.”

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This story is 307 words long.