For all intents and purposes, there was little to no reason why the house on 1216 Franklin Avenue shouldn't have been awash with at least one cacophony of bustling, shouting, or horseplay during one particular afternoon in the middle of summer vacation. With thirteen residents packed into one place, most of them being a rowdy bunch of kids with few responsibilities holding them back from partaking in just about any unhinged whims their brains could cook up, it was a miracle that there hadn't been a giant mess that had to be taken care of.

Lynn Loud Jr. wasn't going to complain, though. If anything, it was the perfect environment for her to think.

Although she couldn't pinpoint all the reasons for the abnormal quiet that reigned in the house, she knew that part of it came down to some of her siblings spending their day out and about, painting the town red with their friends. Lucy was among that group, and it granted Lynn the solitude that she didn't know she needed until she found herself laid across her bed, her eyes mechanically surveying the thin cracks in the ceiling while her drifting mind settled on the one factor that had shaped her day so far.

And it—rather, he—had just left the house about an hour ago, promising her brother that the "Summer of Clincoln McCloud" would continue with another rousing session of video games, comic books, and the other dorky pastimes that Lynn would've ordinarily had no problem with openly deriding to their faces.

Except, at the time of Clyde's visit, her breath was too busy puffing out of her body as she pushed her body to their limits and beyond, her home workout reducing her into nothing but sore muscles, sweat and heavy exhales that rushed damp, sticky air out her lungs to make way for crisp, fresh air to flood in with her gasps.

It had never been like her to be so wiped out after putting herself through her paces. Then again, the golden opportunity to exercise while showing off for Clyde didn't come around very often, and she couldn't fight her relentless impulse to grab his attention whenever he was around.

…

Or...perhaps it was better to say that she very well could fight her impulses. She just didn't want to.

She supposed that this was what it was like to be on a power trip, to relish in the knowledge that she had someone attentively wrapped around her little finger as she mercilessly bent their being into awe, submitting to the sheer magnitude of her ability to push weight better than most people nearly twice her age. Even now, longer after her captive audience had left, the satisfyingly warm tingles hadn't left her chest, keeping her spirits as high as ever as she fondly looked back on the day that her sly...exhibits had started.

Her memory failed to recall the specific date, but she could remember what she had in mind on that fateful day. After running several laps around the house, the next item on her workout itinerary had been bench-pressing the dining room table. She remembered being too pumped and full of energy to take much notice of anything else as she entered her house through the back, wanting to keep the momentum flowing before anyone could call dibs on the table.

In the brief seconds before setting herself up and the minutes she spent pushing through her reps—her lips drawn in a triumphant, self-assured grin despite the fatigue slowly snaking up her arms—she was nothing more than a successful rhythm of motion, a vision of perfection. With her heart and mind attuned to the weight above her, nothing had a chance of shattering her clarity, diverting her driven thoughts towards anything but the end.

That is, until she had felt another weight settling on her.

All it took was one cursory shift of her eyes from the table towards the kitchen, a distant noise—something akin to shoes shifting across the floor from movement—capturing her otherwise unflinching focus.

Her gaze had only briefly wandered, but what she discovered practically swallowed her whole.

There was Clyde, wearing an expression that she had often seen from her fellow teammates or spectators in the stands, but hardly from a singular source: complete and utter awe.

She had frozen instantly, her eyes widening and her chest spasming from the sudden flurry of her heart ranking against her ribs. And then, warmth that she knew wasn't from a hard day's work seeped into her face, blotching her cheeks. She had enough presence of mind to keep herself from awkwardly fumbling about as she immediately got back to pumping metaphorical iron while hoping that Clyde was too preoccupied with his stupor to call her out on her fit of bashfulness.

Except...now with months of reflection behind her, Lynn was certain that there was more than just bashfulness at play. Even in the present, just thinking about his watchful eye stoked up that tingly fire deep in her lower belly, the heat pleasantly crackling her nerve endings in...other places.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was flattered to have gotten such attention, especially considering that it had been from the guy who seemed to think that only Lori Loud was capable of having any sex appeal whatsoever.

And yes, the odds of that stupefied expression carrying any trace of lust were rather low, but still...

Lynn loved to hope otherwise.

She would carry the insecurities about her lack of..."development" to her grave, but she couldn't deny herself of those brushes of jealousy she would feel whenever her older sisters' bustier figures pronounced themselves whenever they were wrapped in a towel after a hot shower.

She couldn't pretend that it didn't hurt when the guys at school, namely Francisco, seemed to either think of her as a list of broken sports records to gush about for a few minutes or just "one of the boys".

It may have been pathetically desperate to long for what was probably just chaste amazement from Clyde's end, but that didn't mean that he had to know how little her pride meant on that day, when it seemed as if she could drive a boy wild with little more than her sheer femininity.

And from that day on, Lynn had taken measures to make sure that she could be the center of his admiration. Every time Clyde came over, she "just so happened" to stumble upon him as she went through her workout, pretending that she wasn't watching him gawking at her as she pulled off her amazing feats of strengths.

And each time she felt his gaze roaming up and down her, as if he was appreciatively sampling a delectable feast with his eyes before digging in, she had to fight those giddy tremors in her tummy from knocking her off her stride.

From there, it was easy to fantasize what it would be like if he was bold enough to carry his desires (should there be any to begin with) to the next level:

His eyes unquestionably lingering towards her chest or on her butt.

His warm breath ghosting across her neck as between each passionate kiss against her skin.

His lips tortuously grazing the nirvana between her legs as his soft hands smoothing over her firm thighs.

Before she knew it, her hand was slipping past the waistband of her shorts while the other clutched her budding breast, the hardened nipple grazing the center of her palm. Her legs rubbed together, the tiny squelching noise filling her ears as the flaring ache filled her loins.

And then...gradually, the sensations ebbed and she slowly but surely retained her senses. Had she decided to do nothing besides think about a more brazen Clyde McBride after taking a post-workout shower, she would've gladly allowed the lash of her hormones to overwhelm her.

But she had locked herself in her bedroom to think about her next move—it was time to stop being such a benchwarmer and go for the gold. Toying around with him gave her a thrill comparable to nothing else, but it couldn't make her not want to see him crack, to unquestionably long for her simply because she was too alluring for him.

She wasn't much for getting what she wanted by sitting around and meditating on every possible course of action and the consequences such plans carried, but with something that was essentially a shot in the dark, she had no choice.

With a steadier grip on her mental faculties, she could now get back to one of her primary objectives for her summer vacation: seducing Clyde McBride and reaping the fruits of her labor.

...

And after about a few minutes, she cracked a smile at thought of a good place for her to start.

Now...where was that pair of leggings?