"Measure Me Again"

The air conditioning in the convention hall couldn't quite cut through the humidity of three thousand people packed into the convention center, but that didn't seem to bother Jessica at all. She stood in her Wonder Woman cosplay, golden tiara gleaming, and she could feel her muscles pulsing with pride beneath her costume.

Behind her, the banners hung heavy—ANIME CON 2024—and the crowd moved like a river through the exhibition hall. But Jessica had found her anchor in the sea of cosplay and merchandise stalls. A guy with messy brown hair and a beige t-shirt was holding a measuring tape, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Okay, just hold still," he said, his voice cracking slightly as he extended the tape toward her right arm.

"I am," she said, and she flexed without being asked. Her right bicep swelled instantly, veins popping like cords across the surface. The man's eyes widened slightly as the tape had to stretch to accommodate the sheer size of it.

He measured the circumference of her upper arm, then stepped back to look at the numbers. "That's... that's not possible."

Jessica smiled, and it wasn't quite arrogant—it was softer than that. "Is it really?" she asked, then she lowered her arm and let her muscles relax just enough to show she was being gentle with him. "I've been training since I was fourteen. The Wonder Woman costume fits perfectly now."

She was right in her own way. The costume did fit—it just barely. Her pecs pressed against the red bodice, the fabric strained around her shoulders and delts, and her lats flared wide enough to make the gold W emblem look almost too small to contain her.

The guy wiped sweat from his forehead. "So what's your goal here? The record?"

"Just being honest," Jessica said, shifting her weight so her left leg extended and her quad popped out prominently. The costume's skirt did nothing to hide the power there, every ridge and valley of her quadriceps clearly defined even in the anime art style she'd chosen. "I want people to see what real training looks like. Not just... cosplaying a character."

She turned to face him fully, flexing her left arm now. The bicep was nearly as impressive as the right, and her triceps carved deep definition down the back of her arm. "My arms are just as big as my legs. It's not about looking good in a costume. It's about showing that women can be built like this and still be feminine."

The guy looked at her, really looked at her this time. He saw the way her abs were etched into the costume, six clear lines of muscle even through the red fabric. He saw how her shoulders and back worked in coordination when she moved, and how her glutes held the costume in place despite the constant movement of her quads.

"I guess I never thought about it that way," he admitted.

Jessica stepped closer, just enough that he could see the individual fibers of her muscle, the subtle way her skin stretched over the dense tissue. "You want to measure again?" she asked, her voice softening. "Maybe check my thighs this time. They're bigger than my arms."

He swallowed, then nodded. "Okay. Yeah. I think I should."

She smiled, and this time it felt like she was letting him in on something special. "Then let's make sure you get the numbers right."

And as he wrapped the tape around her quadriceps, the sheer size of them made him pause. They were wider than his own shoulders, thicker than his entire torso. Jessica watched him carefully, her golden eyes never leaving his face, as he worked to get an accurate measurement.

"You're doing good," she said quietly.

He didn't know if she meant the measuring or something else, but he wasn't going to ask. He was just happy to be here, measuring the most muscular woman he'd ever seen, and not be the one to look away.