Matilda pointed out to the field "go lay down little lamb" she said to Phillip "I'll lead the lions, come on ladies let's see what we're working with, line up for your weigh-in".
As Phillip lay there, a crumpled fly beneath the sky's vast indifference, the She-Devils paraded past, their muscles pulsing like molten lava beneath neon tracksuits. Each stride sent tremors through the earth, each glance a searing spotlight revealing the terrifying depths of their weight.
Brenda, the prop, lumbered past first, her bald head gleaming like a polished cannonball. As she stepped onto the platform, the scales groaned in protest, eventually settling on a bone-chilling 285 lbs. "Not bad, Brenda," Matilda boomed, clapping her shoulder that could probably level a brick wall. "Keeping that mountain steady!"
Olga, the lock, followed, her arms thicker than Phillip's thighs and rippling with enough power to bench press a baby elephant. The platform creaked ominously as she stepped on, the numbers jumping to a jaw-dropping 310 lbs. Matilda chuckled, her voice a rumble that could crack boulders. "Solid rock, Olga! You're the foundation of this human Everest!"
Fiona, the flanker, a deceptive ballerina wrapped in the physique of a sumo wrestler, weighed in at 250 lbs. Her smile, sharp as a switchblade, hinted at the explosive power hidden beneath her deceptively slender frame. "Agile muscle, Fiona," Matilda noted, tapping her biceps that could probably crush coconuts.
Beatrice, the fly-half, a whirlwind of speed and power, was a blur of motion as she stepped onto the platform. The scales blinked, barely able to keep up with her quick movements: 225 lbs. Matilda's grin widened, revealing teeth honed on pure athleticism. "Lightning with thunder thighs," she roared. "You'll be our finishing bolt, Bea!"
Gertrude, the scrum-half, a pocket dynamo with legs like tree trunks, trampled onto the platform with surprising agility. The scale coughed up a respectable 205 lbs. Matilda patted her reassuringly. "Don't let the size fool you, Phillip," she boomed. "Gertrude's a pocket powerhouse!"
Each name, each number, was a hammer blow to Phillip's already-splintered confidence. The booming pronouncements felt less like compliments and more like pronouncements of his impending doom. The air crackled with anticipation, the combined weight of these women a tangible force pressing down on him.
Finally, it was Iron Matilda's turn. The She-Devils held their breath as she stepped onto the platform, the metal groaning under her immense weight. The numbers climbed agonizingly slow: 350 lbs. A ripple of awe ran through the team, punctuated by Matilda's own satisfied nod.
"3,325 lbs!" Matilda roared, her voice shaking the heavens. "That, Phillip, is the weight of history in the making. The weight of ten ironclad goddesses about to squash your record into oblivion!"
Phillip's heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. His breath escaped in shallow gasps, each one a whispered prayer to some indifferent god. Ten mountains, 3,325 lbs of pure, unadulterated female power, poised to crush him like a hapless grape under a juggernaut. The weigh-in wasn't just a tally of numbers; it was a grim foreboding, a prelude to his impending humiliation.
The She-Devils, electrified by the combined weight and the prospect of the record, lined up, a wall of grinning muscle facing their sacrificial lamb. Phillip closed his eyes, the image of ten cleated boots descending upon him a terrifying tableau etched in his mind. His foolish dream of breaking a record had morphed into a nightmare of epic proportions, and there was no waking up.
But amidst the terror, a sliver of morbid curiosity flickered. How heavy, he wondered, would each individual boot feel on his body? Brenda's boulder-like foot? Olga's anvil of a cleat? Beatrice's lightning strike of weight? The anticipation, morbid and exhilarating, turned his fear into a twisted fascination. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the avalanche of weight, the symphony of crushing bone and protesting sinew. He was about to be flattened, yes, but he would also be weighed, measured, and judged in the most brutal, awe-inspiring way imaginable.
The record might be smashed, but Phillip, in his own twisted way, was about to discover the true weight of his ambition.