The arm with which he held the unconscious man began to hurt.

But time was going by, and my right arm began tiring.

The arm began to look darker, 'the fingers on his hand longer.

I looked at it and my right arm began to itch.

On the monitor, the arms of the floor plan began to contract.

His arms were beginning to give beneath the lid's weight.

He went to the sink, began to scrub his hands and arms.

Once outside the warm car, her arms and legs were beginning to feel cold.

My hands and arms were beginning to ache, as I had known they would.

Slowly, arms still stiff at its sides, the dead man began to sit up.