A Second Chance to Make It Right

When we were finished I showed him the progress chart, put his name below mine and Mom's, and listed his starting weights. I told him how we were going to add more weight as time went by.

"Thanks, Anne, thanks for everything. See you tomorrow."

With that, he ran out of the room and headed up the stairs. I noted two things, first he really seemed excited, and second, he left with a really stiff cock. I had no doubt that he ran all the way to his room and jerked off to the memory of my body. I was OK with that, if that was what it was going to take to motivate him then so be it. It was really rather flattering.

I settled into the new school routine rather quickly; all new teachers, a lot of new faces and a whole bunch of upperclassmen hitting on me. I was still only fifteen and told them I couldn't date until I was sixteen. That seemed to discourage most but not all. I didn't care; I was more interested in my education and getting into college than anything else. The schoolwork was still pretty easy, I could still remember most of the work that I had done the first time through high school; so my grades were outstanding. That left me more time at home to workout with Jack. He was progressing nicely. I would help him for a while, then begin my work out while he finished up with curls or sit-ups. It wasn't long before his arms and chest began to show some definition.

One day, after he had completed his work out, I noticed Jack sitting on one of the old chairs, looking at his bicep while flexing. He was smiling, pleased I'm sure with the progress he was making. I was into my third set of bench presses, when I saw him take off his shirt, stand up and move into a double bicep pose.

"Hey Sis, what do you think?"

"Looking good, stud, looking good, I said, as I finished my set and stood up. You're making real good progress. But I think you have to do a lot more work before you catch up to me."

With that I walked over until I was right in front of him and struck the same pose – leaving my shirt on of course. My muscles seemed to explode out of my arms; I expanded my lats and stood there.

I watched as his eyes widened, his jaw dropped and his shorts tented outward.

"My god Anne, you're huge."

He slowly reached up, until his hand rested on my arm, he tried to squeeze it, and then sort of caressed my bicep. Then, with a quick "I gotta go," he ran out of the room and up the stairs.

I laughed to myself. I guess I am making some small changes to history; I don't remember having a muscle girl fetish when I was growing up.

That night at dinner, I looked around the table; Mom was looking really good, she was healthy and – more importantly – happy. Dad had lost a little weight; he was certainly happier, mostly because of Mom, but I knew he still worked and worried too much. Jack was toning up nicely, and was still doing well in school, but he still never talked to or about girls.

I still had more work to do.

Chapter 9

I don't know where the time went, but before I knew it Christmas was just around the corner. Christmas in our house was more about the traditions, the decorations, and the religious significance of the day, than it was about presents. Jack and I always received underwear and socks, maybe a shirt or two. Things that we really needed. Mom and Dad would get something for the house. It wasn't like the scenes from "A Christmas Carol" but it was close. We never seemed to notice or care.

On Christmas day, after breakfast, we gathered around the tree, it was Jack's job to distribute the presents. He gave Mom and Dad a neatly-wrapped box, the next box he picked up had his name on it, the last box must be mine I thought. I watched as Jack leaned over to pick it up, instead of the box moving to him, however, he fell towards the box.

"What the heck is that, it's awful heavy?"

I reached over and slid the box to me. It was heavy. I looked up at Mom and Dad; they were smiling.

"I thought you could use this more than underwear and socks," Dad chuckled.

I ripped off the paper and opened the plain cardboard box and squealed with joy,

"Thank you, thank you Daddy, Mom."

Inside the box were two twenty-five pound plates for my weight set. That meant that now I could continue to increase the weight over time to a maximum of two hundred and fifteen pounds.

That evening, I went down stairs and rearranged the weights on my bar. I added another ten pounds in total. I did two full sets and ten reps on my third when I felt I had reached my limit. Yes, it was a Merry Christmas indeed for me.

School resumed and the days seemed to go on forever. Schoolwork and homework were just chores that I had to do. I was friends with quite a few of my classmates, but none were as close to me as Joann had been. We had started to drift apart; our interests seemed to be taking us down different roads. She was one of the most popular girls in our year; she always seemed to have at least one or two boyfriends. I was still several months away from being allowed to date, so I concentrated on my workouts.

In mid February, I decided it was time to tell the track coach that I was planning to try out for the field events; shot putt, javelin, and discus throwing. Coach Jenkins was about forty-five years old; trim, with the body of a distance runner. He looked up at me from his desk and asked if I had any experience.

"No, I said, but I'm pretty strong. Is there anything I can do now to get ready for the season?"

"Meet me here in your gym clothes after school, tomorrow. I'll put you through some tests."

I went home that day, told my parents what I was going to do and I arranged to get a ride home after school. The next day after school, I went to the girls' locker room, changed into my gym clothes and walked over to the gym office. The coach asked me to follow him. We went into a room off to the side of the gym; there were several weight sets, a couple of benches, and a treadmill.

"The events that you are asking about all require a lot of strength if you wish to excel in them. Let's find out how strong you are."

I looked over at the bar on one of the benches. It had two twenty-five pound plates on each side. I watched as the coach walked over and started to remove one of the plates.

"Coach, stop; don't take off any weight."

He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Are you sure? That's a lot of weight for a girl to handle."

That got me a little upset, I'll show this guy, I thought.

I walked over to the bar, reached down and grabbed another twenty-five pound plate from the rack and secured it in place, then did the same on the other side."

"Honey, with the bar, that's one hundred and seventy five pounds."

"I know," I said as I assumed my position on the bench. I looked over at him, smiling I said, "You want to spot for me?"

I waited until he was in position; then proceeded to do a set of twelve reps with perfect form. I looked up from the bench and said,

"How's that coach?"

"What's your name again?"

"Anne Wilson"

"Anne, you are the strongest high school girl I've ever coached. You obviously work out a lot. The field events also require quickness, footwork and good form. You can't really work on that right now, so I suggest continuing what you are doing. When practice starts, I'll have someone work with you on the techniques of each event. You can go home now; I don't need to see anything else."

"Thanks, Coach."

"No, thank you; you've made my day."

Track practice started March first. It was still too cold to go outside, so the team practiced in the girls gym. When I reported in, the coach sent me over to the boys' gym to work with the boys track team. Their coach was a pretty big guy, who must have participated in field events in college. Coach Jenkins must have already talked about me, because he was not surprised when I reported in. He introduced me to Tom Bradford, a senior and co-captain of the boys track team.

"Tom, this is Anne. She's from the girl's track team, and is going to be working out with us this year. I want you to work with her on her techniques."

Reluctantly at first, Tom showed me how to hold the equipment, and the footwork needed for each event. Every day, we would spend the first hour of each practice going over the movements. He would correct my form, watching my foot placement, making sure I would do the movements the exact same way each time. That he said was the key to becoming a great field athlete. For the second hour of practice, he and I and two other guys would go to the weight room. I remember the first day; Tom and the guys went over to one of the benches and prepared the bar to begin their workout.

He said to me, "Anne, you'll be using the other bench, I'll be right over to set up the weights for you."

I walked over to the bench and put one hundred and twenty pounds on the bar. I was just settling in under the bar, when Tom came over.

"Hold on Anne, that's too much weight for you."

"Spot me," was all I said; then preceded to do my first set. I could see them all staring at me. I had just earned some respect from these guys.

"Holy shit, Anne, how'd you get so strong."

"I've been working out for about a year."

"What's your best?"

"One eighty."

"God, mine is two forty, and I must have at least forty pounds on you."

After that we all worked in with one another, until the weight became a little too much for me. I was determined to top his best by the end of my senior year.

I earned even more respect when we finally got outside and began throwing for real. In practice meets with the four of us, I placed second in the shot put, third in the javelin, and fourth in the discus, in which I needed a lot more practice.

Being part of a sports team in school – even the track team – brings you some notoriety as you walk down the hall; you get people you don't really know saying hi to you. With me it was really noticeable because I was being greeted by not only members of the girls track team, but also the boys track team, and even some of the football players. This led to sort of a confrontation one day.

I was walking down the hall on my way to track practice, when three guys walked up to me and blocked my way.

"Excuse me," I said and tried to walk around them. They wouldn't let me pass.

"Hey babe," the apparent leader of the group said, "Why don't you and me find someplace quiet so we can get better acquainted."

They were all about five-eight or so, probably weighed no more than one hundred and fifty pounds, and apparently thought of themselves as god's gift to women.

"First of all," I said, "If you're asking me out on a date, I'm sorry, my parents won't let me date until next month when I turn sixteen. If you're asking me if I want to fool around, I'm sorry, I don't do that either."

"Well, what do you do?" He replied trying to be a smart ass and impress his friends.

"This," I said, and before he could react, I grabbed him at his armpits and lifted him pinning him high against the wall.

"If you ever bother me again, or I see you bothering anyone else, I will rip off your arms and shove them up your ass."

Then I dropped him. All three turned and ran for the door.

Chapter 10

For me, my birthday was no big deal. Mom made a cake with sixteen candles, which she brought out after dinner. They all sang happy birthday, I made a special wish, and blew out the candles.

Now that I was sixteen, I was able to get a part-time job. In our area there were two types of part-time jobs: retail or the food industry. I chose the food industry, specifically as a waitress. I worked in a local family restaurant. The base pay was low, but the tips were good. The clientele tended to get in and get out as fast as they could which meant that the turnover of tables was high. With my old man's mind and my young girl's body, I knew when and how to get the biggest tips. I was not ashamed to flirt with a group of single guys, unbutton one more button on my uniform and bend over to take their order. Or provide extra fast service to a family with three kids all under the age of ten. I was always happy and smiling. I even helped carry out large orders for the other waitresses.

More important to me was that in two days, we were going to have our first track meet. I was really nervous before the meet. This was the first time in either life that I had ever competed against anyone, other than in practice. Fortunately, it was a home meet so there were some friendly faces in the stands. My brother Jack had stayed for the meet. I could hear him from across the field shouting when it was time for my first throw in the shot put. I guess I shouldn't have been so nervous; my toss was fifteen feet further than my competition. I beat the same girl in the discus a half hour later and a different girl by twenty feet in the javelin. The competition in the field events in women's track and field is pretty thin; very few girls spend most of their time weightlifting and fewer still are as strong as I am.

When I exited the locker room after showering and changing, Jack greeted me.

"Way to go Sis; that was awesome."

"Thanks, Jack. And thanks for coming out to support me, it means a lot. I think we have a problem, however, how are we going to get home?"

"No problem, come on."

We walked out the door, and there in the parking lot was my Dad. He had taken an hour off to come and watch me compete. At that moment I could have cried. I got a big hug and a kiss. I climbed in the back and saw my Mom sitting in the front seat. Now I was crying.

Friday, I was told that I had beaten the school records in each event. I was now the record holder. Tom, saw me in the hall, and practically crushed me with his congratulatory hug. Then, put me down, a little embarrassed over what he had done.

I kissed him on the cheek and said, "Thanks Coach, it was all because I had a great teacher."

That was the way the rest of the school year went. With each meet we had, I got just a tiny bit better. We had the best record of any high school in the conference and placed third in the state. Best of all, I had scouts from several universities with large track and field programs coming to give me a quick look. I would get more attention the closer I got to graduating. I felt that I could finally relax a little bit as far as Anne's future was concerned. There was direction, purpose and endless opportunities ahead for her.

Chapter 11

With the end of school came an opportunity to work full time. I needed to work full time so I could earn more money. I knew that one advantage of coming back to this time period was that I could invest my money in stocks. The problem was that I never paid much attention to the stock market in my previous life. What I did know, however, was that certain companies, particularly in the upcoming age of personal computers, would be very good investments – especially if you could get in early. Companies like McDonalds, Wal-Mart, and Home Depot, which would become the dominant companies in their industries, were just starting out. Companies like Microsoft, Intel, Apple, Google, and Dell were not even in existence yet. All would go on to become huge companies. I would need money to invest in those businesses when the time came. I didn't want to become a financial tycoon; I just wanted to be rich enough so that Jack and my parents would always have someone to fall back to if times got tough.

By the end of July I had a good-sized nest egg, in terms of 1969 dollars, of about two thousand dollars. Now I was ready.

I went to the library to read the Wall Street Journal, looking for any indication as to when McDonalds was going to go public. I read in one of the columns that the company had gone public in June. I had missed it. I made arrangements with a friend's father to open an account with his brokerage house. Because of my age I had to have my father sign the papers as well. I had to convince him that I knew what I was doing and that this was a long-term investment in my future and that I would not be touching this money for 30 years or more.

"Well it's your money; you earned it, so I guess it's yours to lose if you want. Personally I would keep it in the bank, it's safer."

I placed an order to buy $2,000 worth of McDonalds as soon as possible. I could see the puzzled look on my broker's face,

"Some day that company is going to be the largest hamburger seller in the world."

He just laughed and said, "Okay, the customer is always right."

As I walked out of his office, I thought to myself, 'One down, about four more to go.'

That night I couldn't sleep. I was thinking about what I had done so far and how I had changed the lives of my parents and Jack and myself for the better. Now I had to figure out just how our future lives would affect history, and what we could do to minimize the effects. I was also feeling the strain of keeping my secret hidden from my parents and Jack. I had to tell Jack, but when, and how could I make him believe me. I formed a tentative plan, which would take almost a year to complete. The first phase of the plan would take place during the summer.

One morning, as Jack and I were finishing up our workouts, I said, "Jack, I have something to tell you which is going to be very difficult for you to believe. Please sit down."

"This sounds serious Anne, is everything all right?"

"Yes; everything is fine." I took a deep breath and began:

"Jack, have you ever heard of reincarnation?"

"Yes, sure, that's when a person dies and then comes back as another person. Why?"

I looked him right in the eye and held his hands as I said, "It happened to me. I lived before and I can remember much of my prior life."

He just looked at me as if I had two heads, then asked, "OK, I'll bite, who were you in your prior life?"

"You"

He started laughing at this point,

"You really had me for a second there; that was a good one."

"I'm serious Jack, I was you. I was a fifty-eight year old man in 2012. I was about to die from congestive heart failure when I asked God to give me another chance at life. I heard the heart monitor alarm go off, then the next thing I know I woke up in Anne's body in the year 1968."

"Yeah, right."

"What can I do to convince you that what I'm telling you is the truth?"

"Tell me something about the future."

"OK; in the middle of August – the 15th to the 18th – there is going to be a rock concert held in a small town in upstate New York. It's going to be called the Woodstock Music and Arts Fair, but will be remembered as just Woodstock. It's going to be attended by over half-a-million people. They're going to make a movie out of it."

"You probably just heard about it on the radio or something."

"OK, they are going to sell tickets, but so many people are going to come that they'll be forced to stop selling tickets and instead put the musicians on for free. The New York State Thruway will be closed; people will have to walk for more than thirty miles to get there. It will rain at some point on almost every day, the fields will turn into mud, and no one will care."

"I still don't believe you."

"Just wait, you will."

With that, I turned and left the room. A couple of days later Jack came into my room.

"I just heard about the concert on the radio; it sounds like it is going to be a big deal, there are a lot of great bands scheduled to appear. There's even a rumor going around that the Beatles are going to be there. Man, I'd love to go, but I know that Dad won't let me."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Don't worry, the Beatles won't be there."

Work was going well; tips were good. I figured at this rate, I'd have at least another $750 by the end of the summer. There was still nothing in the papers about my next investment, Wal-Mart, going public.