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[Mini Story] Small Town Girl

Published: January 11th 2025, 8:04:12 pm

Hi Hi ✨

Small town meets big changes! Story of a girl coming home after catching the virus. Wasn't planning on a part 2, but left things open just in case you want more! Let me know if you'd like to see where this goes!

📦 Grab the full res images from the attachment section of this post. ⬇️

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Small Town Girl

"Ma'am, I'm sorry but you'll need to purchase an additional seat," the bus attendant said, his eyes carefully avoiding direct contact with Salma. "Company policy."

Salma sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. At 7'3", she had to hunch forward to avoid hitting her head on the bus ceiling. "Right, of course. How much?"

After paying for the second ticket, she made her way down the narrow aisle, painfully aware of the stares from other passengers. Her thighs brushed against the seats on both sides as she walked, the fabric of her dress stretching with each step. Finding her assigned seats near the back, she carefully lowered herself down, grateful that at least the bus wasn't full.

Three months had passed since she'd contracted the virus, and still, Salma couldn't quite get used to her new reality. The physical changes had been dramatic enough - growing from 5'6" to 7'3" in just two weeks, watching her formerly slim frame develop muscle mass that would put professional bodybuilders to shame. But the social changes had been even more challenging.

Her job at Wallace & Co. Real Estate hadn't officially fired her because of the virus - that would have been illegal. Instead, they'd cited "restructuring" and "changing market conditions." But Salma knew the truth. The way her colleagues had started avoiding her, the whispers behind her back, the clients who suddenly preferred to work with other agents... it all added up.

Now here she was, thirty-two years old and heading back to live with her parents in Cherry Grove, population 3,427. The same small town she'd sworn she'd never return to after college.

Her phone buzzed with a text from her mother: "Almost home? Dad's making your favorite lasagna."

Salma smiled despite herself. Trust her mother to try to fix everything with comfort food. She typed back a quick response: "About 2 hours out. Tell Dad not to overcook it this time!"

The countryside rolled past outside her window, familiar farms and fields gradually giving way to the outskirts of Cherry Grove. Salma's stomach tightened with anxiety. In the city, she hadn't been the only one affected by the virus. There had been support groups, specialty stores, even clubs catering specifically to the transformed women. But Cherry Grove? She might well be the first case they'd seen.

The bus pulled into the station just as the sun was setting. Salma gathered her bags - she'd had to leave most of her clothes behind since nothing fit anymore - and made her way to the front. The driver, who had been stealing glances at her through his mirror throughout the journey, quickly looked away as she passed.

Outside, the familiar sight of her parents' blue Volvo waited in the parking lot. Her father stood beside it, his eyes widening as Salma stepped off the bus. Even though they'd video chatted since her transformation, seeing her in person was clearly different.

"Sweet Jesus," Robert Martinez whispered, then quickly composed himself. "I mean, welcome home, princess."

Salma felt tears welling up in her eyes. She dropped her bags and wrapped her arms around her father, careful not to squeeze too hard with her new strength. At 5'11", he had always seemed tall to her growing up. Now his head barely reached her chest.

"I missed you, Dad," she mumbled into his hair.

"Missed you too, kiddo," he replied, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "Though there seems to be more of you to miss these days."

They broke apart, both laughing awkwardly. Robert grabbed one of her bags - struggling slightly with its weight - and opened the trunk.

"Your mother wanted to come," he said as they loaded the luggage, "but she's been feeling under the weather lately. Probably just a bug going around."

Salma froze for a moment, then forced herself to keep moving. She knew the early symptoms all too well - fatigue, mild fever, muscle aches. But she didn't want to worry her father just yet.

The drive home was filled with careful small talk. Robert updated her on local gossip - who had gotten married, who had moved away, which businesses had closed or opened. Salma responded with noncommittal sounds, her mind elsewhere.

They pulled up to the familiar two-story house where she'd grown up. The porch light was on, and through the window, Salma could see her mother moving around in the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the car, ducking to avoid hitting her head on the frame.

"Home sweet home," Robert said, trying to sound cheerful. "We, uh, might need to make some adjustments to your old room. The ceiling fan might be a bit of an issue now."

Salma laughed, the sound carrying across the quiet street. "Dad, everything's going to be an issue now. But we'll figure it out."

As they approached the house, the front door flew open. Elena Martinez stood in the doorway, looking small and fragile to Salma's eyes. Her mother's hand flew to her mouth as she took in her daughter's transformed appearance.

"Oh, mija," Elena whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Look at you."

Salma knelt down to hug her mother, feeling Elena's arms barely reach around her newly broadened back. They held each other for a long moment, neither speaking.

Finally, Elena pulled back, wiping her eyes. "Come in, come in. Dinner's ready, and you must be starving after that long bus ride."

The inside of the house felt like a dollhouse to Salma now. She had to duck through doorways, the furniture looked comically small, and the kitchen ceiling was low enough that she had to keep her head bowed.

"I made extra," Elena said, pulling a massive lasagna from the oven. "I figured with all those new muscles, you might need more food these days."

Salma settled carefully onto two kitchen chairs pushed together, trying not to think about how they creaked under her weight. "Thanks, Mom. It smells amazing."

As they ate, Elena kept shooting concerned glances at her daughter. Finally, she spoke up. "You know, I was talking to Mrs. Henderson at the grocery store yesterday. Her nephew owns that new gym downtown - you remember, where the old hardware store used to be?"

Salma nodded, mouth full of lasagna.

"Well, apparently they're looking for trainers. And with your new... physique..." Elena gestured vaguely at Salma's muscular frame, "I thought maybe you could apply?"

Salma nearly choked on her food. "Mom, I don't know anything about being a personal trainer. I sell houses - or at least I used to."

"But you must know something about exercise now, right?" Elena pressed. "I mean, look at you!"

"That's not... it doesn't work that way," Salma tried to explain. "This wasn't from working out. It was the virus."

Robert cleared his throat. "Speaking of which, maybe we should talk about that. The virus, I mean. We've been seeing things on the news, but out here... well, you're the first case we've seen in person."

Salma set down her fork, pushing her empty plate aside. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Elena said, reaching across the table to take her daughter's much larger hand. "Start from the beginning."

So Salma told them. About the initial symptoms that she'd mistaken for a bad flu. About waking up each morning to find her clothes tighter, her height increasing, her strength growing exponentially. About the fear and confusion, followed by the gradual acceptance as she realized she wasn't alone.

"And now?" Robert asked when she finished. "What happens now?"

Salma shrugged, her shoulders nearly brushing the light fixture above the table. "Now I try to figure out what's next. Maybe Mom's right - maybe I should talk to Mrs. Henderson's nephew about that gym job. It's not like I have a lot of other options right now."

Elena squeezed her hand. "You'll figure it out, mija. You always do."

Later that night, lying diagonally across her childhood bed because it was the only way she could fit, Salma stared at the ceiling fan rotating slowly above her. Her mother's words echoed in her mind: "You'll figure it out."

She pulled out her phone and googled "personal trainer certification requirements." Maybe this wasn't what she'd planned for her life, but then again, nothing about the past three months had been part of the plan.

The next morning, Salma woke to the sound of her mother being sick in the bathroom. Her father's voice carried through the walls, concerned and confused. Salma closed her eyes, remembering her own first morning of symptoms.

Changes were coming to Cherry Grove, whether the town was ready or not.

After a quick shower (made complicated by the low showerhead and her new height), Salma dressed in her workout clothes - the only things that still fit her properly - and headed downtown. The gym wasn't hard to find; it was one of the few modern buildings on Main Street.

A bell chimed as she ducked through the door, immediately drawing the attention of everyone inside. The morning crowd wasn't large - a few older women on treadmills, a couple of guys lifting weights - but all activity ceased as they stared at her.

"Can I help you?" a voice called from behind the counter. A man in his early thirties emerged from the office, his eyes widening as he took in Salma's full height.

"Hi," Salma said, trying to sound confident. "I'm looking for the owner? Mrs. Henderson's nephew?"

The man blinked, then seemed to shake himself out of his surprise. "That's me. Jason Henderson." He extended his hand, having to reach up significantly to shake hers. "And you are...?"

"Salma Martinez. Elena Martinez's daughter?" She saw recognition flash across his face. "I heard you might be hiring trainers."

Jason's expression shifted from shock to interest. "Martinez... right! You moved to the city after college, didn't you? Sales or something?"

"Real estate," Salma confirmed. "But I'm... between jobs at the moment."

Jason's eyes traveled over her frame, not in the uncomfortable way she'd grown used to in the city, but with an almost calculating look. "And the, uh..." he gestured vaguely at her height.

"Virus," Salma explained. "FMG-35. It's been in the news?"

"Right, right," Jason nodded. "We don't get much of that out here, though. You're actually the first case I've seen in person." He paused, then grinned. "Want to see the facility?"

The tour was brief - it was a small gym - but Jason's enthusiasm was infectious. He showed her the weight room, the cardio area, the small studio for classes, chattering the whole time about his plans for expansion.

"The thing is," he said as they returned to his office, "most of our current trainers are great with the basics, but none of them have your... presence. You'd be a huge draw - no pun intended."

Salma shifted uncomfortably in the too-small chair across from his desk. "About that... I should probably mention that I don't actually have any experience as a trainer."

To her surprise, Jason waved this off. "That's what certification courses are for. The important thing is that you look the part. I mean, who wouldn't want to be trained by someone like you?"

"But that's not from training - it's just the virus."

Jason leaned forward, eyes bright with excitement. "Even better! Look, here's my offer: I'll pay for your certification course. While you're studying for that, you can work the front desk, get to know the regulars. Once you're certified, we'll start you with some basic clients. What do you say?"

Salma hesitated. It wasn't what she'd planned for her life, but then again, nothing about her life was going according to plan these days.

"Can I think about it?"

"Of course," Jason said, sliding a business card across the desk. "But don't think too long. An opportunity like this doesn't come along every day."

As Salma walked home, she noticed more stares than usual from the townspeople. News would spread fast in Cherry Grove - it always did. By dinner time, everyone would know about the Martinez girl who'd come back from the city changed.

Her phone buzzed with a text from her mother: "Feeling better now. Did you talk to Jason?"

Salma started to reply, then stopped as another text came through: "Also, does this virus thing make you grow out of all your clothes? Asking for a friend."

Looking up at the sky, Salma couldn't help but laugh. Change was coming to Cherry Grove, all right. And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.

She texted back: "Yes to both questions. And Mom? Welcome to the club."

To be continued...