Author: [009eli] SEXUAL HARASSMENT (Femuscle Story)

[009eli]

Newb author here. I just joined to post my stories (so begin the hazing) I post alot on devientart but when I came across this section of the board figured i could get more people to see my stories if i post them here.

Posting the first part of my Sexual Harassment story line which follows Heather, a young tremendously muscled, but shy FBB who undergoes harassment at the hands of her boss due to her abnormally large muscular development and quiet demeanor. Tell me if you like it and I can post more.  Always love comments and feedback.

SEXUAL HARASSMENT Pt. 1
by 009eli

A young female bodybuilder exerts her own special brand of revenge on her harassing boss

Chapter 1 – ‘Attendance is Mandatory’

‘You got to be godamn kidding me!’

The cry went up around the offices of McManus and Hollister, the drab, blue chip accounting firm. Everyone along the third floor, in book keeping, had received the same mass email, sent out at the same time:

‘Sexual Harassment Seminar:
Time: Tomorrow at Lunch 
Location: Break Room.
ATTENDANCE: MANDATORY’

Debbie Hallifax slammed her Dilbert mug down in frustration.

‘Double-doggone-dangit! They are going to make us work through lunch, and it’s that gosh-darn Sam’s fault.’ She exclaimed.

The Sam she was talking about, was the branch manager Sam Hollister, a jerky frat boy who everyone knew got his job strictly because he was related to one of the firm’s founders.

‘I hear it’s the law. Every firm has got to do it now.’ Chimed in Bill Arnold, another coworker whose mustache communicated less Mangum PI, and more a low rent
car salesman.

‘Sure… but he’s just so pompous… And…’ Deb trailed off. Then whispered under her breath ‘And well you know… Maybe it will help with some of the uh-behavior. Right Heather?’ Debbie sounded hopeful as she turned to her co-worker, and one of her fellow office drones jammed back in data entry, Heather Yunt.

Heather nodded, quietly peering over her glasses, thick dark horned rim frames which seemed to slide down her nose as she worked away at her computer.

‘Maybe it will help a little sweetheart…’ said Debbie again and gave a suppourtive nod. She continued to look at Heather. It was hard not to, the young girl, just in her mid-20s was beautiful, staggeringly so. Her face was aquiline and sleek, with a pair of pert, bubble gum pink, bee-stung lips that seemed to maintain a constant pout, and a set of emerald green eyes, that despite hiding behind her spectacles, made her resemble an anime character. Emanating with an immense emotion and just a hint of introverted sadness.  Everything was topped off with a lustrous mane of spun gold blonde hair, whose thickness she seemed to be in a constant tussle with the bun it had been collected into. Constantly spilling out and brushing against the girl’s high cut cheekbones.

She was no doubt an office stunner, albeit one who preferred to keep to her self, quietly working away in anonymity.  But as beautiful as Heather’s face was – it was her body that drew the most attention….

Despite her buttoned down black generic H&M oversized pant suits and white dress shirts she wore like a uniform, there was one thing that everyone that worked in Suite 6J knew about Heather Yunt, the almost mouse like administrator stuck in the back of the office, Heather’s true passion was bodybuilding.

And not just bodybuilding. Hardcore. Blood on the bench press. Spit, snot and vomit on the squat rack – Bodybuilding.

Only hard core didn’t do it justice. Sure McManus & Hollister could have her for the hours of 9 to 5, but her soul belonged to the heavy stacks of iron she used to build her imposing, rock hard physique.

A few moments around the quite demure blonde it wasn’t hard to tell she was on another level.

Her neck was bolt thick and set rounded on a pair of traps which pushed up so high her dangly earrings routinely brushed against them when she moved.  The effect this caused the young girl was to constantly look as if she was hunched over her work. Her black polyester jacket did little to hide the cannon ball sized delts and thick pectoral shelf underneath which she had worked countless hours to sculpt. In fact the overall effect was of power, but also a seeming uncomfortablity, as the young girl had to constantly jostle with and tug at the collar of her shirt which plunged low enough to reveal a meaty set of deeply tanned, vein splattered pecs.

The effect was bizarre and off putting, often leading the occupants of the office (men and women alike) who were used to following the bosom line of their co-workers downward to find an ample set of breasts. On Heather the same exercise would take the eyeline from her dainty, demure, girlish chin on a quick ride down to her dark, deep tanned neck, and quickly on down to her cleavage which seemed to press out, at manacling angles towards the viewers, inches of dark brown tanned flesh meat covered with veins. In fact, rumor had it, on a one occasion, a manager from accounting had sat across from Heather and decided to count the number of ripples that seemed to expand out with every flutter from her chest, only to loose count in the 100s before eventually falling into a deep muscle sustained hypnosis and nodding off and banging his head on the table.

That was the effect Heather had. Everyone was aware of her, but it was an unspoken rule. She did her work, kept to herself. Clocked out and nobody hassled her. That is nobody except for…

Sam Hollister.

The reason Debbie asked was that despite (or maybe because of) Heather’s herculean physique, she was frequent target of Sam’s… lets not call them advances, because Sam never actually hit on the overly muscled girl in his employee, but he did seem to take particular satisfaction in making her life, and her time at the company, a living, on-going hell.

It seems that not a signal department meeting or event could go on without Sam making some comment about Heather’s muscle packed physique.

‘Oh look… We can finally start. Arnold Schwarzeneggers back from putting in her tampon.’ He quipped at the start of a recent meeting.

He frequently referred to her as ‘stomach churning’ and ‘grotesque. ‘

‘In fact,’ he said. ‘If she didn’t work so damn hard I’d fire the freak.’ He joked in a recent performance review.

‘Sam, maybe just… lay off a little.’ Countered Trish Berratt. Trish was a staggeringly beautiful brunette who, with her trim swimsuit model’s body, and perfectly (albeit) surgically enhanced bust line, looked like she just fell off the cover of a men’s magazine. Trish was definitely the office piece of ass and Sam had wasted no time on her first day letting it be known if she ever wanted to do anything at the company, the way to the top was, very basically, to get on top of him.

‘Oh are you getting a little sweet on the Anabolic Accountant out there?‘ he said motioning towards Heather’s desk who looked up, peering over her glasses. Her emerald eyes catching Sam’s momentarily, knowing full well that he was probably going on, on one of his spiels about her. She quickly looked down. A shade of crimson fired across her ears in shame and embarrassment, then momentarily disappeared, lost under her deeply tanned skin.

‘Look at that, she’s a pussy… without a pussy. Seriously.’ Quipped Sam.

‘Sam… I don’t like it when you talk that way.’

Trish did hate the way Sam talked about all women at the office, but especially Heather. He seemed to have a particular disdain for the muscle girl. Was it a threat she wondered? Trish had made her piece with Sam’s attitude, she figured, she was a gorgeous girl, she’d inevitably be dating someone. Why not date someone who could help her get ahead? Besides she liked the special treatment.  The lifestyle. The date nights and the way Sam pampered her.

‘I had a roommate in college, football player, big roid guy. But he was nowhere near the size of old Heather out there. Seriously I cannot imagine what she’s shooting in her ass! I know what I pay her! To get to that size she’s got to be pouring half of her pay check into one of her butt cheeks.’

‘Sam, just lay off…’ Trish didn’t particularly care for Heather. She was eerily put off by the girl’s size and her quite, introverted demeanor.  There was also something else…  a feeling she couldn’t  put her finger on. A thrill she felt somewhere deep and primal inside of her – a stirring of excitement that left her both flush and an edge. Besides, she felt bad for her too, despite her size, she was meek as mouse and seemed to have relatively nothing in her life except bodybuilding. Also she knew Sam could be dumb, and despite Sam’s nearly 6’ 2 frame, he would hardly stand a chance with the significantly shorter, but no doubt more powerful Heather.

‘Oh drats… it’s happened again. ‘ Sighed Heather as she pulled at the back of her stretched slacks. The sized 16 plus off the rack pair that struggled to keep her mammoth overly developed quads contained, had snapped at the seam. One of the drawbacks of shoving well over 250+ pounds of rock hard she-beef onto a barely 5 foot 5 frame

She slide her hand down her bulbously muscled thigh, and felt the warm flesh of the deeply tanned, insanely chiseled glute cheek which hung out of the back of her pants, torn in a loosing battle to contain the young office workers bulk. No matter how many times she ran her finger over the smooth warm, albeit vein splattered flesh, she couldn’t believe it had belonged to her, it almost didn’t seem real, but she realized she had to quickly pull herself out of her muscle revere as her co-workers were starting to look on.

‘Fuck muscle girl had another pant blow out.’ Said Rob Brookes, a jockey IT worker. ‘Ha! Look at her butt! It looks like something from aliens.’ He said slapping his hands and pointing at Heather who was doing her best to use her small, pink nail polished fingers, to tag at the fabric at the back of her pants, her well rounded butt cheek, removed as it was from the rest of her gloriously development, did look almost alien in the sheer definition that flashed under her skin.

Rob’s co-worker Dean spotted the occurrence and was transfixed. Tall and reed thin, Dean was diminutive and a bit awkward for his size. But he was kind and the preferred person most everyone would go to in the office when they had a computer problem because he wouldn’t make you feel like a dumb ass by pulling that ‘Did you turn it on and off?’ bullshit.

It was no secret Dean was completely enamored with the bulky bodybuilder who worked in data processing. In fact the only person who it may have been a secret too was Heather, whom was seemingly oblivious to the effect her Valkyrie level physique often had on those around her.

They had both started working at McManus and Holister near the same time. Dean had first noticed Heather, unsure what to think about a girl his age who had that kind of body, he had never considered muscles on a women a thing, and Heather didn’t have muscles, her muscles had muscles. Frankly he was off put by her circus freak show level of development, but after having worked around her, he found himself quickly pulled in by her quite demeanor, and her startling beauty. Pretty soon the unspeakable had happened. The muscles, once repulsive, had become an absolute turn on. While working he’d find himself glancing across the floor hoping to get a look at her deep green lipid eyes.

Dean shot out of his seat, hustling to give aid to thick muscle girl who was floundering

‘What’s up Heather? You okay?’  He said rushing to Heather’s side.

‘It’s nothing just another wardrobe malfunction.’ She blushed.

Dean looked at Heather, although he was a good foot taller then her the power she emanated from her compact frame was imposing, almost over powering. Dean couldn’t help but get woozy. He stared deep into her eyes behind her glasses. She shyly looked down avoiding his gaze.

‘Hey, what if I run distraction? Then maybe we can sneak you off to the Women’s room?’

‘Really?’ she said. Lighting up, her pink lips curling into a grin, and yes, he could even see dimples flash across the perfect, tanned skin of her cheeks. Dean couldn’t help but think, this girl was gorgeous. He didn’t care what in the office had to say.

‘I’ll just walk behind you. Get you to the women’s room and you can patch them up.’
Heather beamed. She wanted to hug Dean. He was always so nice to her. And she couldn’t help but find him cute in a dorky, computer guy way. He was so different from the meatheads who were constantly trying to impress her at the gym.

‘Okay… But no looksies’ She smiled.
She turned, her golden hair slapping him lightly against the chin, and began walking across the hallway.

‘My god…’ though Dean as he followed Heather, from his vantage he could get a clear view of the rear of upper delts and the meaty thickness at the top of her back. He couldn’t believe the level of detail clearly visible in the upper hunches, even through her work clothes, the sheer power was undeniable.

As he stayed close trailing behind her. He couldn’t help it. His eyes glanced down to her small waist out of which sprung her large muscle pumped backside.  Her arms hung full and wide at her side. Hanging off her body at distended angles. The thick veins and her arms clearly visible even through her off the rack suit jacket.

He watched in amazement as the dark brown piece of muscle that was her butt cheek, jutted out and up at a pronounced angle and then seemed to slide, slack down, then quickly flex up locking back in place, with each step the young girl took, splattering with veins at the top of the moment, only to repeat it seconds later. He wanted to reach out and touch the thing to see if it felt as hard as it looked.

He needed to snap out of it as he nearly walked into two water coolers and almost took out a large stocking that had been left over from last year’s office Christmas party.

Thankfully they soon arrived at the Women’s Room. Dean quickly averted his gaze as Heather turned, and focused the full power of her doo-like eyes on him.

‘Hey… we’re here.’
‘Yup at the women’s room’ He smiled dumbly.
‘I can’t go on there. I’m a man, not a woman so….’ He continued on.
‘Thank you again.’ She smiled up at him. Leaning in slightly. Giving him a plunging view of her neckline.
 

[southbendcarp]

Out-fucking-standing! 

[tglaja]

I love it. 

[009eli]

Thanks for commenting and for the good feedback since ppl seem to like it here are the next 2 chapters where things heat up a bit more. Thanks for commenting.

[009eli]

Sorry didn't post for some reason.

Here goes .

Chapter 2 – Locker 8-H

Heather hated the LA Fitness. The overly air conditioned climate, the ditzy secretaries endlessly taking up the elliptical machines, the guys in backward baseball caps who called each other ‘Bro’ and seemed to take such joy in clearing a set of single 45 lb plates on the bench. But Heather couldn’t help it… it was the closest gym on her way home. And she needed iron.

Weekends she was able to make it to Tony’s, a dingy downtown gym where the music blared and the equipment was heavy and seemed to have been invented by a Russian inquisitionist. Tony was her mentor. She stumbled into his gym, a shy 19 year old, desperate to change her body, ashamed of the jiggling asexual pear shape she seemed to have inherited from her parents.

One night while looking for weight loss tips she found a dark part of the internet she never thought to venture towards. A message board where men posted pictures of muscular women. She had no idea this was a thing. Sure she’d passed newsstands with muscle magazines. On the cover, tanned men clinging to bikini clad eye candy. But these girls were different. She found a picture of a Canadian bodybuilder named Laura Binnetti. Heather starred at the image in front of her transfixed. The girl in the 1-piece bathing suit had a face that was strikingly adorable, a big bright smile, but the body underneath was another story. So extreme was it in its sickening muscularity, Heather was immediately taken aback and gasped audibly. She was particularly impressed by the women’s thick traps and neck. Repulsion soon turned to intrigue. And intrigue to admiration. And those feelings grew until she found herself returning each night to stare at those pictures undercover of darkness.

It was at that moment she decided she’d make the change. Looking at those images of Laura in her minds eye, she decided she’d do whatever it took to reach that level of muscularity. She had no idea she’d soon reach it, and beyond.

Tony had guided her through a few local contests, getting her feet wet. But as Heather’s physique expanded far beyond the normal levels of what was currently acceptable in female bodybuilding they had become somewhat of a joke. The last one she showed up to she was so massively developed that during the weight in and in the pump up room, she remembered a few of the other competitors visibly becoming shaken as she stripped down to her posing bikini. She finished the show near last with the judges telling her she need to lose over 20%  of her muscle to think about placing higher. Sacrificing hard fought for muscle was something Heather just was not willing to do and so she decided right now building her body would merely be an artistic exercise for herself.

Here in the locker room, Heather felt free, she didn’t care how the other women looked at her as she walked from her locker clad only in a small pair of frilly panties, a garish display of femininity against her bloated vein riddled physique. Let them stare she thought. Who knows, maybe one would be inspired? Besides she didn’t envy them, their slim bodies were more socially acceptable but within moments her eye could spot aesthetics flaws. Her: hips were too broad; she’d need to build up her shoulders and add extra thickness to her back to make them appear slimmer. Her: Thick ankles, demolish calves in order to make the knee and ankle joints smaller, then develop hamstrings to add to the curve of the lower body.

A skinny girl drinking out of the water fountain had a noticeable softness in her mid-section. Heather lingered a few seconds longer in the girl’s eyeline allowing her a clear view of her insanely chiseled 8 pack abs. Zero body fat and perfectly sculpted from the thousands of sit ups she’d routinely execute in her abs routine. The thick bubbled abs descend and lead the eye into the perfect V of her small waits and down to top of her frilly panties which stopped right above her sex. The girl looked up and gasped under her breath at the insanely developed she-hulk traipsing through the locker room in a tiny set of panties. Then quickly averted her gaze down.

Heather smiled, then for no apparent reason pulled back the stretchy elastic side of her underwear and let it go. Snapping it hard against the thick muscle wall where her hip flexor met her oblique. The loud ‘SNAP’ rang out, a piece of subtle psychological warfare cementing her dominance in the confines of the women’s room.

Heather’s diminutive hands clung to her small toiletries bag. Every women in the locker rooms eyes were on her as she sauntered to the bathroom stall. Sure they probably knew what she was going to do in there. It was unspoken but there was no way you could get to this level of development Heather sported without chemical help. And honestly besides social norms she cared little of who knew. She would have whipped out the syringe and showed some of these chunkers how to shot up if they cared to ask.

Deep inside the bathroom stall, she breathed heavily as she unzipped the small green leather bag and took out her works.  The deep blue veins crisscrossing her thick forearms pulsed with anticipation of what was to come next.

This evening it was her favorite HH40, a proprietary blend of multiple growth hormone strands. After that 30MGs of diobol-220 and then ANOTHER 30MGs of Prima, finally finishing it off with 20MGs of Deca as a topper. Proper protocol would have had her inject about an hour before her workout in order to make sure the gear was flush and coursing through her system so she could tackle her brutal workout in full performance enhancement mode but it was just far too risky for her to do it at work. So she settled for a heavy injection session early in the mornings and then now, right before hitting the weight room floor.

Heather sighed deeply as she stuck the syringe tip into the small bottle of HH40. She bit her lip, anticipating the sting and the burn that would soon follow as the drugs would enter her system. Coursing through her body.

Inside the stall she had to be careful to delicately maneuver her large bulk pulling out a tiny antiseptic towel she’d use to clean and numb the spot before the injection. Heather was insanely compulsive when it came to gear. She respected the chemicals. Respected the danger and took a near medical grade compulsion for safety and cleanliness.

She slide the thin sides of her panties down her deeply tanned hips and then
carefully ran the swab of alcohol along the inner edge of her muscled glute cheek. She needed to hide the injection mark. There was little point of building a body of this aesthetic perfection she thought if you were going to riddle it with pock and injection marks.

Now came the hard part. The thick muscle of her glute was so developed it often caused problems and getting a clean shot in was not easy. She stood up on her tippy toes causing her thick calves to suddenly bunch and flex. Then bent, hinging at the waist, careful to negotiate her large arms past her thick lats, the sheer width of her back and arms was making it increasingly even nearly impossible to reach behind her.

‘Calm down baby doll…’ She whispered under her breath trying as best she could to relax the lower part of her body. She knew she needed to be quick and forceful. Recently the task had not been easy and she bent more then a few needles trying to force them into her muscular ass. The problem seemed to have been solved 
sourcing industrial grade stainless steel needles which caused little problems in bending. 

There it was. The hit was quick and good. She plunged the on topper of the needle down hard. Hesitating momentarily as she savored the release of the fluid into her body.  She let out a soft cooing sound, gasping audibly as the hormones coursed through her body.

***

Chapter 3. Osta 0286

The plate of grilled chicken was cut lean and grilled to the point where it completely lacked flavor. It was fine, she was eating it for the lean protein, not taste. She’d long ago distanced herself from food as a source of frivolous enjoyment. Food was now fuel, macros tracked along with calories, all designed to maximize the breakdown and rebuilding of the muscle she packed on her body. 

Heather stretched herself out on her living room floor in a ballerina split. Yoshi, her cat, and the only male she’d ever let in her apartment, curled his long tail around her thick tanned calf muscle and trailed it down to her dainty ankle. The cat’s warm fur against the hardness of her muscle tickled the big girl.

‘Cut it out Yoshi.’ She giggled carefully pushing the cat off. She had to be easy with him. Just a few days ago, in an effort to clear him off her stomach while she was doing crunches she’d accidently sent the poor animal flying with just the brush of her small hand. She felt bad and now knew she had to carefully calibrate her strength in any act with a living being who was weaker then her… so basically that mean most everything.

Heather wondered what that felt like to the cat? Did he realize what he was feeling? Yoshi seemed to spend a lot of time curled around the lower part of her powerful legs. Maybe the smooth hardness of her flesh felt good against his relatively supple body, or maybe Yoshi was some reincarnated leg man who had, in a twist of cosmic karma, come back in cat form to worship at the alter one of the world’s ultimate sets of legs.

Heather leaned forward going deeper in into her split stretch. The hard flesh of her thickly developed inner thighs pressed into the  carpeted floor. The thin layer of her silk panties, the only thing separating her sex from the fury surface underneath. She rubbed herself back and froth slightly adjusting her split outwards. She had worked hard since she packed on her bulk to retain her flexibility, the split helped clear out the lactic acid from her hard pumped muscles while also working to help drive the last of the chemicals deep into her body. Besides… the friction felt amazing.

‘Easy now naughty girl…’ she smirked to herself.

She pulled her laptop closer and placed a pair of wireless Beats headphones on her ears. Flipping open her computer, she hit play on her Spotify. Robert Smith’s voice poured into her ears…

‘I don't care if Monday's blue
Tuesday's gray and Wednesday too
Thursday I don't care about you
It's Friday I'm in love’

She loved The Cure. She didn’t care if it wasn’t the music you’d associate with someone like her. She loved its deep, dark emotional lyrics, seeming to communicate something to her about being different. About loneliness. About what the world was like when you didn’t fit in. Sure at the gym she pounded the loudest most hardcore metal and rap she could find. But after, Robert Smith’s melancholy voice was all she wanted to put in her ears.

Heather’s relatively dainty fingers flew across the keyboard  typing into her search bar and locating:

R/AnabolicsExplosion.com

That was it. The gearheads message board began to load.

She had stumbled onto the board a few months after starting her training realizing that the over the counter jugs of whey protein, amino acids and creatine she was scoffing down wasn’t going to help her become the baddest muscle bitch at the gym.

She’d dived in. Using the same scary, obsessive single minded focus she brought to all aspects of her life to learn everything she could about gear. She read every article posted on the site, science study and latest piece of information she could get her hands on.

It became an obsession. It was a pride thing. Bad muscle bitches needed this information in a constant state of heightening chemical warfare to out do each other. To be the biggest bitch. And Heather knew her shit. Carefully building and balance her stack to deliver maximum muscle growth and mitigate side effects. She had it down to a science. When to cycle, get huge, then cycle off. Go onto PCT. Start a cut. Then start a cycle again. Allowing her body the perfect time to build, grow and avoid the masculine side effects that lack of careful care could bring.

It wasn’t without its problems. There was one time when she had stayed on an 8 week protocol for an additional 4 weeks. She couldn’t help it… She was just getting so freaky jacked. She felt addicted. Tony told her to wean herself off. A few signs of virilization had begun to set in becoming visible in her face. Her cheekbones pushed up high and flush and her jaw thickened slightly. Heather tapered off but had to admit the effect it seemed to have only seemed to have enhanced her already natural beauty, stripping off what little baby fat remained on her face.
 
Here, in the anonymity of online, Heather was a god. Now a mod on the board Heather ran shit.  That kid trying to get the extra edge on his high school football team, that annoying frat bro trying to get 18inch arms to impress some high school cheerleader, was in all likelihood getting his gear protocol from the drop dead gorgeous office wank currently sporting only a tiny pair of Victoria Secret panties that did little to conceal her outside bulk.

It made her feel good, to have a place to be wanted in the world. To weild her power.
If someone annoyed her in a chat room she’d test out a protocol on them. It made for good guinea pigs. Soon she’d get word back, what worked and what didn’t.

‘Gained six lb lean muscle’/’Loosing hair feel tired.’

This is where she first learned about Osta-0286. Digging deep into some dark archive of the site inhabited only by the hardcore needle bangers and hyper science geeks who kept them powered.

Osta-0286  was a different beast. First developed as a prototype in Asia it had been tested on Chinese swimmers. You know those overly large muscled backs and legs that seem to appear on the relatively diminutive swimmers on the Chinese swim team at the Olympics? Yup! That was Osta-0286. The initial word was that it acted a both a myostatin blocker but also paired and multiplied the release of growth hormone already in the patient’s body. That meant that the gear Heather was already running could triple in potency. It’s ability to clone the users own growth hormones mean it would basically eliminate any sides the user might experience.

Osta was so new she had spent the previous couple of weeks piling over the data, most of which was coming out of Asia. Using one of her contacts from the board she’d had them translate the paperwork for her. In exchange she had sent him a few sleek candids of her blood engorged physique, glistening fresh from a workout. One particular image, a snap of her thick abs, cubed and rock solid after a brutal set of a ab crunches, her tight shirt pulled up high enough to reveal the blocky undersides of deep brown pectorals, had been potent enough to get the poor guy to work through the night translating thousands of pages of lab results.

As Heather read over the lab results she liked what she was seeing. ‘Little to no side effects… Off the charts increases in strength and muscular definition and thickness.’’

She tracked the tracking email she’d received from the Chinese lab regarding her shipment. With all likelihood the package should arrive on her doorstep by tomorrow.

‘Oh… ‘ She liked that. Cooing to herself. The lips of her pussy, slowly becoming engorged with blood as she began to think of the possibilities of what the drug could do to her physique.

She began to rub her crotch harder and harder against the floor. The thick bubbling of her butt tightening as she continued to build friction.

‘Be careful sweetie…’ she said only to herself. This seemed to be happening more and more to her, the combination of the multiples of chemicals she routinely poured into herself, along with the visual power of her body elicited routinely brougt her to the point of orgasm.

‘Easy… Easy…’ she said trying to calm herself. But she couldn’t help it. As she looked out, her vision was blocked on both sides by her mammoth arms still recently pumped from her workout

She rubbed her crotch harder and faster along the carpet. Yoshi quietly backed away having seen this before and knowing full well if he got to close to the writhing muscle chick in this state, as much as she loved him. All bets were off.

Heather popped up and stood in front of the mirror. Her body clad only in the tight pink panties and a cut off top which stopped right bellow the thick overhang where the bottom of her pecs met her ribcage.

‘God she looked good…’ She thought. She cocked her arm downward causing her thick tricep to push out and flex.

‘Fuck that’s impressive… even for me.’ She thought. Her hand began to explore down the front side of her panties and quickly find her pussy. Tracing the ridged lines of her blood engorged lips. She began to finger herself. Slowly.

She brought her arms up in a bicep flexing causing her huge, hard 20+ inch plus arms to peak and contract. Their flexed peaks glistening under her stretched skin.

‘Ergh..’ she grunted, biting her lip down hard.

She slowly kissed the top of her peaked bicep. Dragging her soft lips over the muscle hardened surface.

‘Oh god!’ She cried out.

She slowly ran her tongue along the peak of her arm. It felt amazing, her lack of bodyfat and thin skin meant she could feel each muscle fiber under her skin. It felt like there was nothing there. Nothing separate between herself and the world.

Her fingers worked faster, pulsating like a piston. The thick muscles on her forearms bunching and flexing from under her panties as she sped up fingering herself.

‘Fuck… big… fucking… big… freaky… muscle bitch!’ she cried out. Moving her hand. Faster and faster. Faster and faster until…

‘erghhhh!! Ga- fuck!!’ She cried out. Toppling onto her couch. Breathing heavily.

Yoshi, assured that the danger was over, cautiously made his way over to his owner. Hopping onto her thick chest. She brought him in close.

‘It’s all right baby… Mama’s okay…’ she reassured him giving him a small peck on his forehead.

A smile crossed her lips. Right now it was lights out until four AM when she’d get up to eat her next meal. Take her shots pull on a pair of ridiculously tight spandex shorts and  do a quick eight mile run around her neighborhood before work. The job of a muscle girl is never done.

[009eli]

Next two chapters

Chapter 4 – The Seminar

Mike Bowles had done this a lot. The consulting firm he worked for had flown him across the country five days a week for the last 15 yrs giving  the same seminars on Sexual Harassment policies and HR for different companies.

He’d seen all types of office workers, bullies, victims, mean bosses and push overs but he had never quite seen anything like the young girl who walked into the breakroom at McManus and Hollister on this Tuesday afternoon as he set up for his presentation.

She couldn’t have been more then 24-25, her face was gorgeous with clear smooth skin and bright wide eyes that shown behind her thick glass frames. Her skin seemed to almost glow under it’s deep, dark tan with a kind of healthy vitality that was other worldly and he couldn’t  help but think she may have applied a thin layer of that glitter makeup women wore these days wore. But on closer inspection he couldn’t find of trace of it. No this shimmer was just the pure gleam of perfect health.

Mike stood stock still starring, taken with the girl’s beauty, but when she entered the room and took off her jacket it was hard for him to square what he was actually seeing . At first he had just chalked up her wide frame to the heavy build of a Midwestern farm girl who’s weight had somehow avoided her face – since her features were so lean and chiseled.

But as she entered the room looking for a seat he was struck but something else. It wasn’t fat that give the girl her thick, dominating appearance…. It was muscle!

Mike had seen a few women in his past who attended his seminars who were ‘built.’ One time in a talk he gave in a small insurance firm in Louisiana, he had a participant, gorgeous woman in her early 40s, who was a fitness competitor. She sat front row bouncing one of her high heels absent mindedly on the end of her toe as Michael talked causing her deeply tanned and incredibly well developed calf to bunch and flex leading him to on a few occasions stumble on the presentation he had given many times.

Afterwards, while shaking hands, he was amazed at the round shape of her broad shoulders which were clearly visible, as well as the thick back triceps of her arm which pushed out under her dress shirt, and her breasts, no doubt fake, clearly visible under the plunging neckline of her tight shirt giving her both an incredibly curvy but powerful appearance. She smiled thanking Mike for the seminar,  no doubt enjoying the distracting effect she’d had on him throughout his talk.

But the girl now in front of him was something completely different. He watched her sheepishly as she looked around the room trying to find a seat to take.

‘Christ almighty…’ he though to himself. Heather had now removed her sports jacket and even though she wore white dress shirt. The insane development of her deeply tanned upper body was clearly visible through the tight stretched fabric of her buttoned down shirt.

He continued to look on, almost in some ways feeling sad and sympathetic to the girl who appeared to be in a constantly struggle with the neck of her shirt, continually readjusting it, causing the thick cannonballs of her delts to ride up against her ears.

The bottom of the shirt too was in a constant struggle not to slide up to high, and Heather often needed to pull it down from front lest it ride up above her stomach and get caught on thickness of one of queue ball sized abs. Which it did a few times giving Mike a quick glance of the deeply tanned midsection which seemed to pulse with veins as she moved are the room.

The struggle with the shirt also gave Mike on opportunity to view the girls’ lower body. His eyes nearly shot out of his head. She wore a pair of polyester slacks which were no doubt supposed to hang loosely but the girl’s insanely developed legs caused them to be stretched tight and look closer to yoga pants then office attire. As she stepped into the class, the thick tear-drop shape of her quads pulsed and flexed with each step causing the pants to look as if they may snap at any second. And the wide development of her legs push outward hanging over her knee and casting her relatively petite knee joints in shadow. Her calves too were wide and clearly visible from the front before disappearing into her small ankles.

Heather looked around the break room trying to find a place to sit, she knew every eye in the room was on her and she hung her head trying to mitigate the awkwardness. She was big and clearly blocking everyone’s view. She knew she needed to find a seat and clear out of being the center of everyone’s attention.

‘Hey Heather – I grabbed you a seat,’ Said Dean from across the room tapping a seat next to him he had been hoping nobody would take so he could offer it to huge muscle girl.

‘Oh Heather honey! Got ya’ a seat right here!!’ Yelled Debbie, her cubicle mate. It was slightly awkward; Heather was physically closer to Debbie who waved energetically at her, her under arm flab shaking and visible beneath her cat lady sweater.

Heather made eye contact with Dean. Somehow, subtly communicating her decision. She had to take the seat closer to Debbie, it was the more socially acceptable thing to do… besides she knew she was the office freak and Dean was so sweet she didn’t want to associate a nice guy like him with any of the bad gossip, and she thought he didn’t really want her to sit next to him, he was just felt sorry for her.

Heather sat next to Debbie careful to lower her bulky frame on the relatively small chairs in fact she nearly knocked her co-worker off her seat as she lowered one of her cannon ball sized delts squarely knocking into the older women and audibly causing her to get the wind knocked out of her.

‘I’m sorry Debbie.’ Heather said quietly under her breath.
‘It’s quite alright sweetheart. You’re a big girl.’ Debbie nodded at her. Not quite sure big was the adequate word. Sitting next to the much larger younger outrageously built girl Debbie couldn’t help but feel she wasn’t even in the same species as someone like Heather.

Heather took out a small Tupperware container containing a huge mound of grilled chicken. This was her fourth meal of the day she needed to eat or else it may get bad. Her early morning work out and a healthy dose of the Dexa/Winnie and the other agents she was using in this cutting protocol were sending her metabolism into over drive. Burning calories and converting the protein she had put into her body into rock hard muscle in record time. She could barely stay full and Debbie watched her seatmate scarf down the chicken. The older women stared closer at the young girls face as she made her way through the container, she could clearly see pulsations and flexsations in the girls jaw, with quick flashes of deeply blue viens around her cheek bones flashing as she chewed through her lunch.

Debbie shook her head, snapping out of it. It was disturbing, albeit fascinating to watch but she knew as the lord said ‘hers was not to judge.’ If this is how this girl wanted to live her life that was her choice. But the young thing was so sweet and pretty she couldn’t help thinking she could have been married and knocked up by some nice man by now if she didn’t spend all her time at the gym obsessed with her body.

###

From his office Sam watched the team assemble. He primped and posed styling his hair in front of the mirror in his office and psyching himself up by playing with a stress ball.

‘Who’s the boss man… you the boss man Sam! You the boss man!’ He said to himself as the door to his office cracked open. It was Trish, his employee slash girlfriend-fuck buddy. She entered his office.

Fuck! She looked fucking good he thought. Trish always dressed to impress and it was hard not to when you looked like her. Her clothes were routinely just a bit too tight for the office environment. The plunging necklines of her suit jackets cut just right to reveal the large pert firmness of her breasts. Her hair long and flowing to her shoulders. The fit of her clothes cut close at the waist to emphasis her small hips which she worked endlessly hard at spin class to sculpt giving her a sultry athletic appearance without appearing too bulky. On her lower body she wore a tiny business skirt that was cut high allowing a clear view of her long tanned legs.

Trish was a stunner, but everyone knew she was the bosses’ girl so hands off. Even though everyone know a putz like Sam would never land a girl as beautiful. People disliked her sometimes for sleeping her way to the top, but they also felt sorry because they knew inevitably that Sam was a heel.

‘Hey beautiful.’ He said leaning in to kiss her. She turned her cheek to him, she didn’t love when Sam pawned over her in an office setting. Despite the rumors she did want to be taken seriously as a worker and having her boss tonguing her openly in the office was not going to win her the respect of her co-workers.

‘Everyone’s seated if you’re ready to start.’

‘I’m ready to show these people who’s boss. By the way… last night huh? That was wild.’ He said raising his eyebrows libidinously.

What Sam was referring to was a their date last night when after taking her out to a steak house and parading her in front of some old college buddies of his. Then went back to his apartment where Sam had cracked a bottle of wine and they proceeded to watch some TV before Sam leaned across the couch and began kissing her. The butter and steak smell still on his breath from dinner. They then made it to the bedroom where Sam, still pretty intoxicated, whipped out his dick and in an attempt to get it hard, made her suck on his ear for what seemed like nearly twenty minutes.

‘Suck on it. Suck on that lobe…’ he whispered as he played with his cock trying to get it to stiffen. The sheer length of this exercise provided Terry with enough time to flashback to her days in college. She had dated a beautiful exchange student from Turkey named Todal. He was a poet and had long flowing black hair and dark eyes that would captivate her. They’d stay in bed fucking for hours while he’d read her poetry. What happened to Todal she wondered? Why had she not followed him back to his country? Would she be happier?

Anyway she continued to suck on Sam’s ear until…

‘That’s it! It’s hard now baby.’ Sam said about his rubbery limp dick. Lying on her back Sam climbed on top of her and began to thrust away, she could clearly smell the cheese they had, had as an appetizer at dinner. Luckily Sam finished fast (he always did) and rolled over on his back and fell asleep. This was the passion he was alluding too.

‘Yup. It was great. You were really on fire last night, baby.’ Trish smiled at him revealing her bright white teeth and pouty lips.  Trish would wait for Sam to fall asleep then finish herself off dreaming about some exotic land far and away and being ravaged by Bradley Cooper.

‘Well everyone’s out there’ She said eager to get the show on the road.

‘Yup! It’s showtime’ yelled Sam finishing up styling his hair.

///

Back in her seat Heather finished up her lunch. She was still ravenously hungry. The food stuffs she was eating was no doubt being rushed through her system quickly in order to aid in the recovery of her hard pumped muscles from her workout early this morning. She could almost feel it. Her cut protocol was going so well it was almost impossible for her to keep any fat on her body her metabolism was reving so high. As she climbed out of the shower this morning getting ready for work she immediately caught view of her beefy quads as she stepped out. Still glistening with water from the shower giving them a slick sheen under her deep chocolate tan.

She was immediately taken and shook her thigh out bringing it to a quick hard flex. The muscles sprang to life under the surface her skin. Thousands of small striations. Continuing to stand naked in the front of the mirror flexing her quad hard as she towled her lower legs off. She could feel the rock hard, thick surface of her muscle under the soft cloth of her towel. She began to rub the muscle, slowly working herself into a heightened state of muscle lust. She knew she had to stop or she’d quickly find herself having another muscle induce orgasm.

Back in the breakroom, Heather had no idea  she had been absent mindedly rubbing her fingers under the thick under side of her legs and hamstrings whose bulk hung over the side of her chair thinking about the shower this morning.

Even here in the break room she could feel and press into the hardness with her finger. Pushing the muscle back then due to it’s amazing firmness feeling it snap back into shape. Heather was also particularly excited on this day, because just moments before coming into the break room she had gotten the email saying the package of Osta-0286 had been dropped on her doorstep. Her mind raced thinking of including the new super powerful drug to her already brutal regiment and the heightened changes it would bring about in her body.

From her seat next to her Debbie watched in slight bemusement as the muscle girl next to her seemed to be lost in a state of muscle worshipping bliss playing and kneading the under side of her thighs. Debbie shrugged her shoulders thinking maybe if I had legs like that I’d have a hard time keeping my hands off them as well.

‘It’s showtime good people!’ Said Sam as he burst into the door of the break room throwing up his hands. A slightly smattering of applause greeted him, which seemed to mostly have been generated by Sam applauding for himself as he arrived.

‘Great why don’t you take a seat and we can begin.’ Said Mike at the front of the room in an effort to get into his preset agenda for the seminar.

Trish found a seat in the room, a front row one that had been no doubt saved for her aligning with her queen bee status as the default first lady of the office. As she sat she had a clear view of Heather. It was her first time seeing her today and no doubt she could never quit get over this girl’s effect on her. Looking at Heather she saw the only other female in the office who could rival her in beauty, but Heather had gone in such a different route then Trish. She couldn’t help envy the girl’s independence even if she did give her an odd, unsettling feeling to look at someone who looked like her.

Mike took to the front of the room. Observing Trish as well and the body language shared between her and Sam. He was quickly able to clock the situation and the dynamic of boss and employee fucking. He knew he was there to do a job and part of this job was to make his clients happy while also doing his best to lay out the law and the legal ramifications if anyone broke it.

He shook it off. Momentarily dazzled by the brunettes beauty and her low cut top. It was an odd situation. Both seated front row a brunette and a blonde both facially attractive but with such different body types.

‘Okay without any further ado lets get cracking so we’re here to talk about Sexual Harassment’ Mike started in to the talk he’d given thousands of times before, but was a bit startled to find Sam jump out of his seat and join him at the front of the room.

‘Maybe I should help, seeing as I am the boss here and also seen as something of an aspirational figure to the office.’ He grinned smiling out to the crowd.

‘Sure… okay…’ sighed Mike resigning himself. He’d seen glory hog bosses before. The best thing to do was just to indulge them without letting them go to far, that way they wouldn’t provide a distraction and he could get on with the important issues he needed to cover as far as the continuing work place legalities involving sexual harassment.

Sam bound to the front of the room confidently, leering as he did so. He shot Trish a wink and a smile. She looked away hoping none of her coworkers had seen it and giving Sam a smile and demure half wave.

‘Okay… my name is Mike. But you can call me Mike for short—‘ Mike paused for a small tittering of laughter from the group. ‘I’m here today to talk to you about sexual harassment in the work place. As some of you may have seen this is a subject that has been in the media a lot lately. And today I want to talk to you about what sexual harassment is. What to do if you think you may have been the victim of harassment and what your rights are as an employee –‘

Debbie turned to Heather, giving her a head nod as if to say…. ‘Girl we are going to get this taken care of. ‘

‘From a legal stand point, sexual harassment is any unwelcome advance of a sexual nature or a professional nature. What the harasser is trying to do is leverage their position of power to intimidate their victim…’

Debbie raised her eyebrows indicating to Heather…. See.

‘Now I like to do a little exercise to run through some scenarios so we can see what’s harassment and what isn’t. Now if I can have two volunteers. One to play a boss—‘

‘Well I should probably be the boss… since ya’ know. I’m actually the boss.’ Sam indicated.

‘Sure’ said Mike, hoping he could just get through the seminar.

‘And let’s have a volunteer to play an employee—‘

Heather’s cheek blushed red under her deep tan. She could sense what was coming next. So could most people in the room. She avoided eye contact, averting her eyes to the floor and enclosing herself deeper into her own muscle stuffed body. If she could she’d wished she could flex out her neck and close herself into a muscle cocooned away from the world.

‘Please don’t, don’t, don’t Sam…’ thought Trish to herself, knowing what was inevitably to come.

‘How about muscle girl!!’ shouted Sam proudly from the front of the room.

Heather wanted to run and hide. Every eye on the room was on her as she sat in the seat awkwardly trying as hard as possible to shrink down her mass so she could turn invisible.

‘Um… we were actually looking for volunteers’ countered Mike.

‘Muscle girl wants to volunteer, don’t you?’ Sam sneered in Heather’s direction who had finally looked up from the ground.

Dean’s stomach turned. He knew what Sam was playing at, he’d spare no excuse to embarrass and play out his petty insecurities at Heather in front of an audience. He wanted to slug Sam but sat tight not wanting to either jeopardize his job or further embarrass Heather.

‘Come on Heather, you’re keeping all these people from getting back to their work.’ It was true the room was looking at her annoyed. ‘Why don’t you trot those overly pumped tree trunks you call legs up here and let’s get this underway so we can all go back to work.’

‘Better go up sweet heart’ offered Debbie.

Heather reluctantly rose out of her seat to get to the front of the room. As she did so there was a slight collective gasp from the room and Mike as well. Heather had to push herself up causing her triceps to harden and flex under her shirt. Her tanned muscle meat pressing out against the white cotton, the veins of her flexed forearms and bis clearly visible underneath the white cotton.

‘My god…’ though Mike under his breath as Heather took the front of the room. He thought Sam really was pushing it being so aggressive, and frankly bullying, to a girl who was obviously so physically superior to him.

‘Fuck…’ thought Dean who was in heaven as he watched the power packed girl make her way to the front of the room. He noticed Heather had to walk slightly bow legged, in an effort to keep the thickness of her thighs from rubbing together giving her a slight waddle. It looked almost comical and it may have made someone else look less attractive but on Heather, this slight physical imperfection, only in some ways added to his desire for her.

He looked on in awe noticing the way her arms hung out and away from her sides pushed up by the thickness of her back and lats which were visibly straining under her shirt.

As she came around the front of room she shifted to face Mike and Sam her thick back blocking the view of one side of the room.

Sam gulped. It had been a while since he had, had the young muscle girl stand in front of him and maybe it was an illusion but she appeared bigger, and more ripped and tanner then he had remembered. He quickly found his bearings knowing how important it was to project a level of authority in front of his minions

She spun around to face Sam at the front of the room.

‘Jeezus…’ though Dean. From the back she completely blocked out the view of the taller but skinnier man, her wide back spreading out like the hood of a cobra.

The air had gone out of the room as well as Heather hadn’t realized it, but the stress of being called in front of all her co-workers had triggered a response in her body to go into default presentation mode. Having been inspected so many times by Tony, her trainer, in tiny, barely there panties or posing attire, or by judges and audiences under hot lights on the stage in  a bikini so tiny you could fit in a lip stick case,  it seemed a natural default for her body.

From the ground up she planted her small feet down deep in her relatively modest ballet flats and first bounced on her toes slightly sending her calves into a fluttery state of contraction clearly visible under the tightened bottoms of her stretched too tight slacks. Then slowly she contracted her thighs, pressing them hard together. The clear separation of the front heads of her tear drop quads pressed out to the sides, their size highlighting her small tight waist.

‘My god… ‘ Thought Dean. He had never quit seen anything like this.

Heather involuntarily sunk slight into her hips then straighten herself up squaring and flexing her large bowling ball shaped glutes, which flexed up and out threatening to tear the seams of the back her pants.

Dean looked closer, under the harsh glare of the office lights he could see what almost looked like tiny worms wiggling in her pants, but within moments what became clear was this was the feathery striations along the ridges of Heather massively developed and dieted down butt cheeks hardening into full flex.

Lastly Heather pushed up her chest flaring it out and pushing her arms up and to her side the flared gullwing doors a Delorean.

The overall effect was mesmerizing. She appeared hyper powerful a true alpha asserting herself only through the threat of her physical size and the unspoken dominance of what she could possibly do with the body she had worked so hard to develop.

The effect was not lost on anyone in the room as the looked forward. Dean couldn’t help but feel his cock stiffen slightly in his pants as he looked ahead at this amazing specimen. He knew he’d need a long bathroom break and would no doubt be thinking about this for days to come so he took the opportunity to try and lock in every detail of Heather’s amazing, albeit clothing covered, physique in full detail.

Dean wasn’t the only one having involuntary physical reactions. As Heather stood there for what felt like minutes, the tight contractions of her body as well as her obvious physical dominance and the strain she was putting into holding her muscle contraction, had the effect of releasing a light mist of pheromones onto the room. Maybe it was the effect of her hyper developed near masculine musculature and the steady doses of hormones she injected like vitamins mixing with her gorgeous obvious femininity, but the effect that it was having on both men and women in the room was undeniable.

There wasn’t a man who didn’t look forward at the moment and feel their cock stiffen and tighten at their combined feelings of inadequacy mixed with the aesthetic beauty and symmetry of the body before them.

The same thing was happening with the women. The visual power and beauty of Heather’s body had combined with something primal inside of them as well. Here was a girl, insanely young and beautiful with a face anyone of them would have loved to have, combined with a body anyone of them would have love to have on their companions. A body that would keep them safe, protect them, all under the mantle of an ideal of feminine physical beauty. It crossed so many evolutionary wires of sexual attraction and repressed desires that they too felt a stirring on their loins.

Trish was not immune. As she looked at Heather, making her man, her boyfriend looked puny in comparison, she felt the nipples of her large firm fake boobs harden and she arched her back up, pushing her boobs up higher, and in Heather’s direction. An unconscious matting ritual designed to highlight her beauty assets and mate value.

She had also been, unbeknownst to her heavily stroking her lustrous hair and biting hard on her lip as she felt a warm wetness build in between her legs.

‘Uh… okay…’ Mike said trying his best to shake himself out of the state of amazement and desperate to continue with the seminar.

‘Let’s get things under way. So for the first exercise well do a run through where a supervisor is looking to hire a new employee – Sam you’ll play the supervisor –‘

Sam didn’t respond. He too continued to stare at the wall of muscle that had unfurled itself in front of him and was standing stock still holding this pose like some Greek statue. As he continued to look, Heather, remained meek still averting his gaze, but it wasn’t her eyes he was looking at. He was starring dumbly at a front chest and set of shoulders that  were so broad they looked as if someone had shoved a pair of football pads under an oxford shirt. In fact he might have believed that’s what he was looking at if the dark tan of Heathers skin, which she routinely conditioned for hours on end by applying layer after layer of imported tanning creams, clad only in a tiny set of extra small thong panties, slowly, over the course of an hour or so working the creams vigorously into the deep hard folds of her rock hard shoulders abs and legs, in order to give herself the perfect deep, deep tan to showcase her muscles.

Sam also noticed her mouth. Flashing the meekest of smiles he noticed the insanely bright and healthy teeth playing behind the girls plump soft pink lips.

‘Sam…’ Mike finally was able to shake Sam out of his state of reverie.

‘Well do the exercise with you and – ‘ He waited for Heather to give her name.

‘Heather…’ the girl whispered quietly. Mike was surprised for such a large girl. Her voice was so quite and hushed it tickled across his spine making him feel highly aroused.

‘Okay lets begin, Sam will do an little improv interview scenario and highlight whether or not what you are seeing is harassment.’

Sam nodded. He also knew that he had to regain control. Shaking it off. He knew he couldn’t appear intimated by Heather. If anything, this new, albeit accidental, show of dominance really meant Sam had to put her back in her place. Maybe it was hubris or arrogance; Sam thought he could mentally dominate the shy girl due to her quiet demeanor. Maybe that was why he went at her so hard. The idea of attack the biggest guy (in this case girl) in the prison yard. Establish your dominance. And she made it so easy.

‘So let’s just run through this interview scenario. Sam… you’ll be interviewing Heather for a job as your assistant.’

‘I like my assistants to generally be women and this is obviously a man-baby!’ Said Sam aping Austin Powers and turning to the audience.

Dean grabbed his chair hard. Clenching his fist against the chair. He wanted to slug Sam but knew he needed to control himself.

Debbie’s heart was breaking too. Heather had from the seat she had taken on stage completely slumped down, hiding her gaze. The intense pressure of sitting up there, being looked at while being forced to take this abuse. Debbie imagined she could see the big girls lip quiver slightly, fighting off crying. She wanted to rush on the stage, her maternal instincts firing, and hide the most ripped, most muscular girl, most muscular person, she had ever seen in her life. Protect her. Take her away.

‘I’m just kidding. So you in from out of town?’ Sam sat there looking at her. Heather thought maybe that was it. That was the one shot Sam would take at her, after all this was a seminar against abuse. She hazarded a look up and found Sam smiling at her. She looked up. Actually began to meet his gaze.

‘So you from out of town…’ he said again.

‘Yes- yes I’m from out of town…’ Sam nodded. Smiling. Playing along. Heather began to loosen up… starting to feel a bit less pressure.

‘Very good.’

‘I drove in for this interview.’ She offered starting in some ways to give herself over to the exercise and surprised to find her stammer gone.

‘Oh drove? Okay. I only ask because I would imagine if you flew you’d be the kind of person who’d need to purchase two seats.’

The room exploded with laughter. It seemed whatever spell Heather had exerted was now blown away by Sam. He had asserted himself and was back on top.

As Heather looked out, she could see the faces of her coworkers. Some laughing loudly and openly, some doing their best to cover their faces as they sniggered at her.

‘You know we have an all you can eat buffet in the cafeteria… but I feel like in your case we’d have to close that down or risk filing for bankruptcy.’

The room exploded again. This time openly. Sam continued…

‘Now lets look at this resume. It says you take… three hundred steroids a minute. I’m sorry that’s a typo. It says you type, three hundred words a minute.’

The laughter of the room continued loud and now freely flowing at Heather’s expense. She sank lower in her seat. Just wishing she were anywhere. Wishing she could disappear.

###

Chapter 5. The Invite.

After the seminar Heather had broken away. Although the exercise was only a few minutes it felt like she was under there for hours.

As soon as she could she hustled out the room. Running to rest room stall and burst into tears. Coming out of the women’s room, a few coworkers looked at her, partial looks of disgust, some pity. Heather couldn’t stand to meet their glances.

She looked down and returned to her desk. She repeated over and over in her head. She just needed to get out of there. The day was almost over. Besides she though. Osta-0286 would be waiting for her. That seemed to make it all worth while, she was buoyed slightly thinking about it. That first hit, hitting her body. The iron pumping, working, the explosive muscle growth soon to follow. It seemed to make what she had just experienced some how tolerable.

###

Back in the break room Mike packed up from the presentation. Besides for the rocky start with Sam and the muscle girl the seminar went surprisingly well and he was able to cover what he needed to cover.

Sam came over to thank him.

‘I think that went well.’

‘Sam you know I worked for the company and my number one job is not to get us sued. I know what you did technically to that girl in here wasn’t ‘Sexual Harassment’ but it was basically bullying. When I get back to New York I have to present my notes to the board, one of which is your father. I have to tell you, I think if she wanted to she could potentially have a harassment case against us at McManus.’

‘I’m just playing around a little. Busting chops.’ Sam countered.

‘I would say, for your sake. I’d suggest you smooth this over. A legal case would be terrible and costly.’

‘Okay. I’ll apologize.’ Sam said.

‘I’ve found in my work that doing something personal is best. Let the employee know they are cared for. We’ve had great success with Execs doing something like a dinner to mend the relationship.’

Sam nodded. He’d think about it. The thought of having Heather the weightlifter freak anywhere near him after hours disgusted him but –

‘Get it handled or I’ll have to let the board… and your father know.’ Said Mike as he left.

###

Back at her desk. Heather had her head down – Cure blasting through her headphones, she was able to put some of what had happened in the break room behind her.

She had Googled her tracking number from the Chinese lab just to make sure, and it looked like it would be dropped off there this afternoon. She bit her lip the feeling of anticipation coursing through her body at getting her hands on this latest compound.

She began to get excited, thinking in her minds eye what she would look like once she got the drug in her system. She imagine muscles tearing under intense straining workerout then rebuilding bigger stronger what little fat being drained from her body replaced with forcibly built, shredded hard muscle.

She smiled slightly. In honor of this evening she had even put aside a few new high-grade needles. The perfect vehicle for the Osta.

She was on a message board going through the specifics of the Osta protocol for later that night when she was surprised to look up to see –

‘Heather… Hiya!’

It was Sam peering down on her. He never came to this side of the office. She slide her headphones off, but couldn’t bring herself to look up at him.

‘Look I understand that you are mad at me and… I’m… I’m really sorry—‘ He got down on one knee looking Heather directly in her large green eyes. Even Debbie looked over taking notice.

‘Look I… I’m a ham. I just get in front of an audience and I need to put on a show. It’s nothing personal. It’s me. I can’t control myself I—look. I know this won’t make it up to you but I’d love to have you over for dinner. Tonight…’

‘I- I don’t know… I’ Heather stammered out her reply. She was completely intimidated and just wanted the interaction over with. Besides this was a man whom minutes ago had embarrassed her in front of all her co-workers.

‘I know you have no reason to trust me, but look Heather—‘ Sam put his had on one of her large shoulders, and immediately pulled it away, initially shocked and startled by the hardness underneath. It felt like he had touched a bowling ball covered by cloth.

‘I also want to—‘ Sam leaned in closer to her ‘Personally, you’re one of my hardest workers here and I think we may have a promotion coming up and – I think it’s something you may like. More money. You’ll be able to work from home.’

Sam was really selling her. She couldn’t help but think if she could get more money that may mean more money for gear and the extra time she could dedicate to training as well as getting her chemical protocol nailed down.

Still she didn’t know, she felt betrayed by Sam before. But looking over his shoulder she could see Debbie giving her the thumbs up. ‘Do it.’

‘Come on. Look we’ll get you some… you like meat right? Chicken! Steaks! Lean proteins! So you don’t have to stray from the diet – Trish will be there to chaperone me. I’ll be on good behavior.’

Heather waivered – the introduction of Trish offered a new wrinkle. The dark haired woman was so beautiful, a perfect feminine creature. In some ways Heather envied the girl from afar and would have loved to have something resembling a friendship, but office politics and loyalties had prevented it.

‘I don’t know I have to go to the gym—‘

‘Right of course you have your training. I don’t want to interfere with your iron pumping. How long is your workout –‘

‘Two hours.’ Heather lied, embarrassed that the regiment Tony had laid out for her tonight would be a brutally heavy leg destruction day that would have taken her three hours to complete at it’s minimum.

‘Well come over after. We’ll wait. We’ll have the protein ready for you to fuel those muscles. Come on…’

Heather waivered finally nodding okay.

Sure she’d go over. She’d already suffered the worst type of embarrassment at this man’s hands. What else could he do.

She go over… But first. The Osta.

[009eli]

Chapter 6. Tracking # 432111893

Heather bent at the hips. Carefully standing herself up on her tippy toes causing her massive rock hard calves to flex into hard vein covered diamonds of muscle under her dark tanned skin, and using her core strength hinging herself forward at the waist carefully pulling off the slacks off over her overly large developed thighs. Then taking extra precautions, sliding them off, carefully separating the inner bulk of her thickly muscled inner thighs in order to allow them to slide off more easily.

She stood there in the locker room for a moment. Clad only in a tiny pair of Victoria Secret lace thong panties. The light pink silky material a sharp contrast to her deeply tanned smooth skin. The panties were a few sizes too small for her large bulk and hugged tightly at her hips and the exploding bulbousness of her glutes. She loved the idea of sliding herself into a woman’s small even though her power packed physique called for at a least a XL to XXL. She loved the tightness of it and the idea that despite her gargantuan physique her waist was still as small as most teenage girls.

She stood there for a moment, her rock hard ass standing perfectly off her body, zero sag to be found due to the complete lack of any body fat she sported in her insanely ripped physique. The few steps she took to fold up her slacks and put them away in her locker caused her glues to bunch and flex as she moved around the locker room and the steps she took to put away her bag made her quads quiver, shake and re flex, after each step.

Across the women’s locker room floor she could see two girls about her age pulling on their lulu lemon leggings in preparation for their yoga class. Heather glanced momentarily at them, they were both attractive, with the kind of faces men flipped out over, and although most people would say they had great bodies, Heather felt bad for them. They were so skinny, she thought.  So stick thin that there was nothing for the eye to take in, she couldn’t help thinking. Unlike her own insanely developed body, who from the bottoms of her small tanned feet, would take the viewers eye on a ride, a curvaceous expanse of unfolding muscle.

Tiny small little ankles spilling out in massive wedged calves, up turned diamonds who’s underside ridges she would often sit, running the under side of her finger under. Up to her knees which remained small and feminine, then up to the massive curve of the outer side of her quad which pushed out away from her body, gravity deifying, and hanging outward, forced away by the large muscles underneath.

She stood there for a moment. Carefully sliding her thick physique past the two lithe yoga girls. Stopping momentarily in front of one to slide by, allowing the girl a perfect eyeline view of Heather’s glutes . The girl stood dumbfounded as Heather slide her way past – an innocent demure ‘Don’t mind me’ smile on her face.

‘Excuse me sweetie. I’m sorry.  just need to get by—‘ Heather said in a sweeter then pie hushed tone. Standing there, her rock hard d ass, perfect gravity defying orbs of chiseled deeply tanned musculature, hanging inches from the poor girl’s face.

Heather consciously took a few extra moments to put away her stuff in the locker. Sliding, slightly from leg to leg causing a soft, subtle firing of striations under her dark brown skin.

‘It’s it’s quit alright.’ Said the yoga girl. Unsure what to say, and frankly completely intimated by the overly muscled figure her age standing right in front of her.
She was forced to sit there as the girls butt brushed by, inches from her face. Frozen, worried about in some ways offending the obviously more powerful girl.

Heather slammed her locker shut. ‘Thanks sweetie.’ She said giving the girl a sly smile. Confident that her dominance had been cemented.

Before leaving the office she had been sure to hurry home as fast as possible to find the small manila envelope from ‘The Shinzu Lab Corporation’ sitting outside her apartment door.

There it was. The package contained the next step into taking her physique to the next unknown scary level.

She glided her pink finger nailed finger along the top of the package sliding it open and allowing the vial of clear liquid to tumble out. It was smaller then she initially had thought it would be and was surprised to find the writing all in Chinese.

She knew with the dinner later that night she’d need to hurry and didn’t have time to look up the translation on the label. Besides, the excitement of holding the relatively small vial of potentially muscle engorging chemical in her hands was beginning to turn her on and if she stayed home too long she knew she’d quickly find herself in a pumping, posing and fingering session in front of her floor length mirror. So she had said good by to Yoshi, grabbed her stuff and headed to the gym.

Heather pushed her way into the bathroom stall. Her heart beating faster. It had raced the first time she tried HGH. The first time she tried Deca, Test and all the others. It was the unknown. Each chemical was different, speaking some sort of unknown softly whispered poem of infinite possibility of growth into her ear. And each didn’t disappoint, rewarding her in it’s own unique way. The HGH, the first steroid she ever used, had made her then small physique begin to fill out with thick full muscle. Giving her body a curvy, rounder look and increasing her strength astronomically. Deca made the gains hard. Turning her new muscles into rock hard pulsating cock like extensions of her body. Pushing her veins out to the surface and making her muscles sensitive to the touch.

And now here was her newest, and possibly most powerful chemical help yet. She entered the bathroom stall. Her small toiletries bag with her. She selected a 4 inch medical grade Helman 2.0 stainless steel needle from her bag. One of the most expensive she had ordered. It’s long beak perfect for pushing the chemical deep into her muscle. She smiled as she ran her finger gently along the under side of the syringe. Thinking it kind of looked a little like slim metallic cock. She smiled to herself imagine what cute Dean from the office’s cock would look like in her little tanned hands. Her dainty fingers painted a cute sheen of bubble gum pink, wrapped around his shaft. She began to get excited as she imagined both of them looking down on this. Dean getting rock hard to her gently, but firm touch, as they both watched the thick veins begin to pulse under the meat of her forearms as she stroked his cock. Faster… and faster.

She bit her lip thinking about it and shook it off. In some ways feeling ashamed thinking about a sweetheart like Dean and what he would think of her, clad only in a frilly set of panties on her bloated physique and shoved in a stall of a gym bathroom, syringe in her hand, like some common junky.

She knew she needed to hurry or else she’d be late. She looked at the vial of Osta. The problem here was it was written entirely in Chinese. She knew between 20 and 30 mgs was a dose for someone her size. But she didn’t know what ratio the stuff was mixed out. She seemed to remember it was one to one. So she dug the end of the syringe in the vial and pulled it back. Besides she thought,  She’d been jabbing needles in her ass, shooting the most hardcore black market Russian power lifter shit, for over 6 yrs. She was a beast. Nothing could take her out, and if she overshot, she knew how to handle it. Besides, she smiled to herself thinking of her maybe getting  accidently just a bit too much and completely destroying her work out today, with her two little yoga bitches stumbling out of class and coming back to see a completely vein riddled, rioded to shreds Heather waiting for them naked in the shower.

She pulled the plunger back deciding on 25mg. The sweet spot. Perfect.

She bounced up on her tippy toes, then hedgded perfectly at the waist, bringing her hand around to the lower part of her overly developed hamstrings and up to the base of her distended glutes where her fingers fanned through the ripples of her striations, like fingers flipping through index cards looking for the perfect insertion point.

She found it and used her strong fingers to separate out the engorged muscle and brought the needle down hard knowing the force it took to plunge it deep into surface of her muscle.

‘Fuck… Fuckk baby doll…’ she cooed to herself as she could feel the needle initially break the surface of her chiseled, tanned butt cheek…

She bit down hard on her lip drawing blood as she let the plunger go, forcing the thick, glueceic liquid deep, deep in to her chiseled, tanned muscle.

‘Oh baby.. oh baby…’ she cooed softly. It burned and she could feel it flow into her system. Going to work. Turning her into something perfect. Into something more then human.

She bit down hard. ‘Fuck…’ she thought. It had started to burn and her eyes  began to tear. Her lower back felt like it had caught fire. Like someone had torn the skin off of her and was searing her with a hot blowtorch. The burning chemical sensation of the liquid filling of her body. Her blood engorged muscles.

She bite down hard. The pain was excoriating, and it was the only thing she could do to power through it. Her vision began to go in and out as hot flashes burned in front of her eyes.

This was bad. It had been far more intense then she expected. The pain was so excruciating,  she bit her lip harder. The sour taste of blood dripping into her mouth.

Her mind was racing, flush with pain… but… she knew she had to push through it. Every fiber in her body screamed and her veins, already thick seemed to pulse, coming to the surface. She looked down, her beautiful sculpted inner thighs were now covered and riddled with thick blue veins, snaking from her crotch and seeming to pulse with each beat of her heart.

She squeezed her hands down digging deeper into the toilet paper dispenser she was leaning on in front of her. Fighting. Powering to muscle through this hit. Her fingers dug deeper, indenting the strong metal of the dispenser, leaving inch deep  hand shaped impressions as she squeezed  down hard.

‘Fuck… Fight Heather…’ she thought to herself. Using every fiber of her body. Her training. Her resolve. Her strength. Maybe she’d taken too much. She’d later learn the Osta she’d ordered was near 100% purity unlike the around 60% pure stuff she’d researched on line that means she’d shot nearly 3x more then she needed into her body. But she was determined she was not going to be some roided up muscle bitch, found dead in the bathroom of a LA Fitness. Needle jammed in her little ass.

She tumbled forward. Her thick shoulder crashing into the metal walls of the stall, leaving a large, pumpkin sized dent in the stall walls.

‘Are you okay in there?’ Came a concerned voice, another women in the locker room standing outside her stall.

‘Yes- yes… I’m fine… thank… you.’ Heather managed to grunt out. She soon stood up. Standing herself upright. She could feel in her body, some of the pain began to pass. There was still some burning but she could feel the Osta hit her body and the blood begin to carry it to her different muscle groups.

The worst was now over. She knew she had to be more careful. Respect the gear. And she would in the future. But now she thought ‘Let’s see what this shit can do.’

###

Out of the gym floor Heather could really feel the Osta take hold. ‘Fuck,’ she thought ‘It should almost be a crime to feel this good.’ She thought as she sauntered her hips slightly, her lower body clad only in a pair of miniscule pink lycra shorts that bareley contained her dark brown massively developed glute cheeks and stopped mere inches above her sex, allowing her rock hard lower abs and the small veins of her hips to be clearly visible everyone in the gym.

She walked with a bop over to the squat area, gyrating her hips seductively as she passed the gym bros. Carefully sauntering her hips in acquiescence of her large thigh development.

Every eye in the relatively commercial gym was locked on the beautiful blonde muscle girl with the too die for tan. Her blonde hair bounced and rubbed up against the thick cobra like hooding of her insanely developed back and traps.

She stopped right at the squat rack and collected her long, thick blond hair. Tying it up in a hair braid caused her back to bunch and flex under her tanned skin and her bulbous shoulders to bunch up, brushing lightly against her cheeks as she gathered her hair in a bun in preparation for her squat.

She pushed the plates along the bar. One plate. Two. Three. Five plates bar bending plates on each side had been her PR, but for some reason tonight she thought, lets go for six. She loaded the plates on and slid her head under the bar. Her thick traps, bunched up and flexed acting as a natural cushion as she took her position.

Every eye in the gym watched as Heather lifted the bar up. The weighted creaked and moaned as she gritted her teeth. So far so good she thought. She was hanging tight. The pain of the steel bar was digging deep into her meaty traps but it was a pain that felt good, the pain of a baptism under iron.

She hoisted the bar stepping away from the rack. Then dipped down into her squat, deep… deep enough where she could feel the warm hardness of her muscular glute, exposed from under her teeny tiny shorts brush up against the top part of her calf. No half assed bitch squats here.

She came down. Easy she though then –

Froze. It was more weight then she’d ever squatted. She felt locked down in the bottomed out position. The weight now barely moving. Oh no… she thought, she’d over estimated what she could do. She could feel the weight now. Forcing down on her legs and driving her deep into the floor. She knew she needed to get up or else risk serious embarrassment in front of every man and women in the gym, or worse, injury.

But she felt it was too heavy. Slowly something inside of her began to fire. A snap. If you would have looked deep into her muscle fibers you could almost see the Osta, switch on. Taking effect and offer the muscle girl a deep, almost unending pool of muscular powers as she forced the bar upwards. Recovering and bouncing high on the balls of her  feet. Her long blonde hair bouncing and cascading softly against her high cheek bones.

‘There it is… Easy peesy… ‘ she thought to herself. ‘Now enough for the warm up. Let’s take this shit for a test drive.’

###

Her workout had continued on like that. Repping out PR after PR and seemingly pulling from a bottomless reserve of muscular energy.

She knew she needed to get the workout down in regimented time. So speed as well as strength became a factor and she blasted through plateaus after plateaus adding more and more difficult factors to each rep.

Until finally, her body pulsating with hard pumped muscle and sweat caking between her brown beefy body and her now sweat soaked top and shorts, she ended her routine for the night by asking two large bro’s to stand on the end of the hamstring machine in order to add enough wait to it, as she repped out rep after rep, the strength of her back legs lifting both men as well as the entire stack of weight off the floor.

She felt like she could go on for hours like that without faltering but she knew she needed to make it to Sam’s house. She dreaded the idea of it and cutting her workout short but she thought if Sam was able to promote her and it may be worthwhile. And besides something else thrilled inside of her of the thought of seeing Terry, a goddess like presence kept so far away from her in the office, in an out of office environment. She thought to herself about Terry looking at her tonight, watching her, her body pumped bigger and harder then it had ever been. Would the beautiful young girl be turned on? Disgusted? Both?

She knew she needed to hurry if she was going to shower and change and present herself in the best light.

She had brought along a change of clothes from home, but the thought of taking a shower in the open area women’s filled her with some dread. She never did it knowing the looks at stares she’d got at her blown out physique. But tonight for some reason she wasn’t dreading it and wondered if the Osta had also managed to boost her confidence along with her physical strength. Giving her a sexual aura as well that made her almost want to be looked upon as she was fresh from her work out.

She discarded her tiny spandex shorts. Careful to peel them from her sweat soaked body without tearing them after the brutal workout they had just endured, and sauntered off to the showers, each step causing the flutters and ripples of her thick quads to bounce and flex and pointy her toes out sexily as she walked bouncing on the balls of each foot in order to add a touch of an extra calf workout at the end of the night,.

##

The small pink, lady Bic blade looked ridiculous against her massive thighs, now pumped even larger from her Osta assisted workout.

She ran the blade over the outside of the large meaty swells of her leg, the small blade doing its diligence on  the fine blonde hairs along her leg, but the commercial razors they made for women just weren’t made to do the job on a girl with legs the size of most women’s waists.

Still she persisted. Working the blade in between the chiseled lines of her overly developed thighs, working it over the lower region which now sported small featherings of striations and curving out over the tear dropped out croppings which provided her legs with the massive sweep she so craved in order to bring shape to her lower body and make her already small waist appear miniscule in comparison.

‘Such hard work’ Heather said absentmindedly to the woman next to her in the shower, who with her stretch marked cellulite body and luffa sponge stood in sharp contrast to Heather’s hard fought muscular perfection. The remark may have sounded like bragging and Heather didn’t mean it as such, simply a statement of fact.

‘You- you’re very muscular.’ Said the older woman, almost in disbelief of the younger girl she was seeing showering naked next to her with so much nonchalance.

‘Oh really?” Said Heather teasingly, cocking her arm and bring her huge biceps into  a full flex the warm soft rivers of shower water and soaps suds snaking through the hills and valleys of her massive biceps and triceps.

The woman gulped hard and quickly gathered her stuff hustling out of the shower and leaving the young muscle freak.

Heather savored the warm water on her muscles. The workout had been hard and the warmth of the water worked to relax her. She apply liquid soap to her body, an frightening expensive bottle she’d ordered especially from Europe as preservation of her soft, young vibrantly youthful looking skin was a must for best presentation of the work she’d done building her physique.

As the liquid began to soap and froth around her, she glided her hands over the hard ridges of her stomach. The water and soap mixing into a slick, smooth surface. Her hands softly caressing her hard ridged abs. Then sliding down to her hips, which were tiny and lacked an definable body fat, the silky striations and ripples of her hip flexors clearly visible under her skins surface as she slowly gyrated her hips from side to side giving into the warmth of the cascading water.

She looked over her shoulder at a mirror stationed across from the showers. Looking behind her, through the steam, she could see the clear ripples and contours of her massive upper back relax and flex as she slide her hands over her body… finally finding the hard over hang of her large pecs which hung out, hard and high, inches away from her rib cage. Her hands still slick from the soap, she slide them under her muscled breasts rubbing in the soap and caressing the steep over hanging, feeling the way of her pecs angle down as she rubbed them together lathering the soap.

Slowly, carefully, she eased away from her heavy pectorals, letting each of the thick, hard defined muscles go, slapping down slightly under their own weight. And put her hands down. She knew if she stood there any longer it would be a mess and she’d never make it to dinner.

[bucknut]

This story just keeps on getting better.

[009eli]

This story just keeps on getting better.

Glad you like it! Thanks for reading and commenting

[009eli]

Next chapter

Chapter 6 – Dinner @ 8

Heather powered down the street. That was the one way you could describe how she was walking now. Her thighs expanded, flexed, then snapped back with each step firing under the deep brown tan of her skin.

She had showered and changed at the gym in preparation for her dinner that night. Before leaving her apartment she’d had to figure out what to wear. In the years since she’d plunged herself into building up her freakishly large physique she’d albeit given up socializing. Her after work hours were reserved strictly for going to the gym, a dinner out meant empty calories that would add bloat to her statuesque body and would merely need to be burned off in one of the brutal cardio sessions she exposed her physique to on a near daily basis in order to maintain her ripped, near contest level conditioning she liked to sport in her day to day life.

That meant as she looked at the clothes in her closet, her old clothes pre transforming her physique, the size 2 dresses and XS skinny jeans she used to wear out to parties would be destroyed on her current body. She’d settled on an elegant black pencil skirt. It was form fitting and sleek, and as she pulled up over her
blown out thick quad muscles and the thick chiseled swells of her bowling ball developed glutes the cotton fabric stretched tightly, creaking at the seems to contain the rock hard massed of swollen muscles of her body.

On top, she had foregone her normal white default button up shirt she wore most days. The idea behind which was to detract from her herculean development, although the sight of her cannon ball delts, swollen triceps and biceps and thick traps pulling and stretching the fabric only seemed to be highlighted by the shirts which hugged her thick musculature. Tonight was something special. The Osta had helped her push past her plateaus and she felt beautiful. Her body was bursting with powerful muscle. She dug into her closet and pulled out a party blouse, a gold macramé frilly thing she’d bought years ago to dance on top of tables at clubs and get attention. Now it seemed Heather had the opposite problem, she could stand there barely move and every eye in the room would be fixated on her.

As she climbed out of the car she needed to adjust the blouse slightly which gathered up behind the thick insertion of her bulbous traps and wrapped around   below her lower back, leaving the expanse of her vein riddled chest and arms hanging out at her sides. She had trouble even getting the dang thing on at the gym as she got ready for the night, it’s flimsy material meant for the skinny body of a willowy model, not the thick iron insertions of rock hard muscle and she had stood there in the middle of the women’s locker room. Her lower body, vein covered and sliced within inches of its life with thick cuts, struggling to pull the top over her clownishly over developed upper body. Finally getting it up over the thick meat of her neck and down around her relatively tight waist and hips. She pulled hard feeling that even sudden movement may tear the light fabric as she pulled up over her sculpted pecs and upper abdomen.

As she locked her car she stood there for a moment. Admiring her reflection in the window. Enormous arms. Hard rippled muscles highled by thick blue veins weaving this way and that over the surface of her skin. She smiled to herself.

She had parked a few blocks away from her apartment and confidently made her way down the street. Sauntering with a slight shuffle of her hips caused by the tall stilettos she was wearing to compliment her dress as well as the thick muscular contractions of her lower body, still healing from the recent injection of steroids she had given herself in the gym bathroom. 

Heads were spinning as she made her way down the street. She could feel their eyes on her. Their looks of envy mixed with disgust and awe. It was looks she regularly elicited and had grown used to. They told her she was on the right track. Her body was meant to get reactions. Indifference was her enemy.

Her thighs exploding with muscle with each step.

‘Spare some change Miss- Damn!’ Came the exclamation of a homeless man near where Heather parked.

‘Shit girl you’re all muscle!’ He cried out as Heather ducked past him and headed up the block. ‘I’d like to wrestle you’ he yelled after her.

Heather stopped briefly. Turning on one of her jet black high heels. She squared up to her full 5’ 5’’ height, now well up over 5’ 10 with added lift of her stilettos.

‘Oh would you?’ She asked. The homeless man gulped hard. Heather began to walk toward him. Her powerful calves quivering and shaking with each step.

‘Sir, I’m over three hundred fifty pounds of pure she-beef. Three percent body fat’ she said adding a few small tension and flexes to her forearms causing the snaking blue veins along them to become more prominent and trail their way up to the meaty, tan expanses of her biceps.

‘I squat well over a thousand pounds. For reps. Bench more then half of that…’ She said adding in a few small pec quivers and contractions after each statement. The homeless man’s gaze was fixated on the wall of tanned muscle in front of him. Heather had observed this before, this combination of the sexual arousal of the individual mixing with their survival instincts – the sheer size, danger and idea of what someone like her could do with them as well as her undeniable physical perfection caused the two most powerful primal reactions to fire in the observers body at the same time (sex+survival) causing a surge of hormones so powerful they could often render the observer helpless in her presence.

Heather decided to prolong the poor man’s musculirezed reverie for her own enjoyment, and also in some ways to help him. She wanted to scare and intimate him enough he might not make this mistake in the future. The way you may scold a child to keep them from ever trying to touch a burning stove.

‘I…’ Pec quiver.
‘Would…’ Pec quiver.
‘End you…’ She said with the end of her statement and clenched her fists together she squeezing her small hands together so hard her dark tan gave way and her knuckles began to turn white as she held the clench for an excruciating period of time, the exposed cleavage of her massive chest bouncing, quivering and pulsating mesmerizingly as a last, final squeeze caused the deep, deep craggles of muscle to fire up and outward.

The homeless man swallowed hard. He was no more then a buck fifty himself and up close Heather’s pure physical dominance was readily apparent.

‘I’m- I’m sorry ma’am… No—no disrespect.’ He said collapsing into himself and slinking away – feeling not fear, but a kind of primal dominance that Heather had sought to elicit and done so successfully.

‘Sir…’ Heather cried out as the homeless man stopped in his tracks. Fear pulsing through his system. He turned to see the buffed up beauty standing there. One of her small hands placed on her tiny hard looking hips. Her upper body swelling under the blouse powerful and pumped up like a balloon.

‘Sir…’ Heather said again and dug a handful of bills out of her purse. ‘Get yourself something to eat.’ She added with a demure grin as the homeless man grabbed the bills and scattered off down the street. Happy to survive with the extra money and no bodily harm to his person.

///

“Your fucking boobs… look perfect baby.” Sam said to Trish, as she turned examining her naked upper body in the mirror of his apartment. She was sporting only a small pair of thong underwear whose string nestled snuggly in her perky, sculpted ass.

Sam looked at his near swimsuit model level girlfriend as she spun examining her almost naked body searching for the perfect outfit to wear to dinner that night. Heather would be over soon, and despite Sam’s urging she wanted something that would really blow the blonde’s hair back. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but she wanted to look good for this girl. It was a pride thing amongst women.

“Let me at those monsters.” Sam said grabbing one of Trish’s boobs from out of her bra and playing with it, feeling the heft of the silicon bag of the boob job under the soft smoothness of her warm skin. He squeezed the boob which stood stone upwards pointing perfectly ahead with zero sag or effect from gravity.

He ran his hand down her almost unnaturally flat stomach, which was toned and trimmed by not only her amazing genetics but also her daily cardio and gym workout routines she did to maintain her proportionally perfect female shape.

“Stop playing. We don’t have long before Heather gets here.” She said slapping his hand away.

“What do you care? It’s just muscle brain.” He said mockingly of Heather and a sting of emotion fired briefly in Trish. She obviously knew about Heather’s amazing physical development, and although she had rarely talked to her, she knew the other girl was in no ways dumb. In fact she could perceive just how blazing intelligent she was.

Trish finally decided on a pair of skin tight stretch jeans that hugged every inch of her long, toned legs and a blouse which plunged low on her upper body highlighting the cresting overhang of her near perfect breasts.  To accentuate her lower body she pulled out a pair of five inch pair of heels who’s criss crossing pattern made it look like her feet were bond and gagged in a SM outfit.

“Fucking hot shit!” Sam said giving her pert ass a hard smack which ricocheted off the skin tight fabric of the jeans.

[mecenas1984]

Your work is amazing dude!.. keep writing, and we will keep reading. You are doing a good job!!!

[009eli]

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Here's the next chapter:

CHAPTER 7 "Are They as Hard as They Look?"

"I'll get it!" Trish cried out from the kitchen as her heels clicked across the hardwood floor of the apartment. Sam watched rather pleased as Trish's ass jiggled with each step under the tight fabric of the jeans as he stayed in the kitchen and finished the rest of dinner.

"Just a sec…," Trish said as she popped open the door to the apartment.

What was waiting on the other side of the door stopped her dead in her tracks –

In the doorway Trish's eyes gazed upon Heather, of course, she had seen her in the office, but she had never seen the muscle beauty look anything like this. The girl looked gorgeous, her makeup freshly done from the gym, her long lashes clearly visible behind her glasses and even her bee-stung lips seemed to be plumped to a pink succulentness that made Trish squeeze hard on her hands to keep from reaching out to touch them.

As gorgeous as the blonde looked facially it was what was under Heather's chin that was currently causing Trish's heart to beat so hard it felt as if it may shoot out of her chest. Bellow the baby doll beautiful features stood the most rock-hard display of muscle she had ever seen on anyone. Man or women. Heather's body was huge and hard from the recent workout and looked as if her skin may burst at any moment from the tiniest movements to keep in the hard-packed muscle's in. Trish had of course seen Heather before, and no doubt knew she was one of the most physically impressive specimens she had ever seen, but know her she was standing face to face with the muscular perfection in its exposed glory.

Her mouth went dry as her eyes gazed over the thick swells of Heather's pecs which in their exposed top looked like the stripped down cow steaks that had been spray painted a golden California brown. Her eyes continued to travel to the pumpkin-sized delts and finally landed on Heather's arms which hung huge at her sides, pressed away by her thick lats like wings. Her arms were massive, sickeningly so, well over 30 inches unflexed and the crisscrossing of thick veins looked like road maps, they were so in her face that Trish suddenly felt the need to reach out and touch them.

For her part, Heather too was taken aback. She knew Trish was gorgeous. A natural beauty. But the roids she had recently ingested coursed through her body she could feel them swim downstream to the nether region of her lady parts and engorge the pink lips of her pussy, causing them to brush up against the silky fabric of the minuscule panties she had put on under her skirt.

Trish's heels put her about eye level with Heather and it was within moments of popping open the door that Heather found her eyes gaze down onto the brunette's ample bosom which was pushed up hard and high by the support of her implants and a push up bra that forced her boobs to bubble up brushing lightly against her chin.

The two women stood there for a moment taking each other in. The silence between them was primal and powerful.

"Oh, you're here!" Sam cried out from the kitchen entering in his apron to find Heather, the Amazon, now near six feet tall in heels taking up much of his door frame and his girlfriend standing there starring rather dumbly at the bigger girl.

For his part, Sam had to stomach a bit of disgust as his eyes traveled over Heather's exposed skin in the tiny top and miniscule skirt. While at work she was mostly covered up and he could try his best to ignore the bizarro body hiding underneath her ill-fitting attire, but now here she was letting it all hang out. Flashing her physical superiority and rubbing it in his face. He forced his disgust and his annoyingness down. He'd need to stomach it for tonight. He knew if he didn't smooth things over he'd be out on his ass without a job, and his hot girlfriend would no doubt dump him. In his mind, he just needed to get through this evening. Make the muscular freak feel valued – he swallowed hard forcing his disgust and the bile that was building in his stomach.

"Wow, Heather you really dressed up for the night." He said taking in her bronzed musculature. His eyes flitting along the sickeningly ripped up arms, the thick cubed abs and flashing down to her thick quads who's tear dropped outer heads hung dumbly over her knees, exploding with cuts and striations each time she shifted nervously from foot to foot.

For her part, Heather had continually kept her gaze down meekly, her eyes downcast behind her glasses having trouble meeting Trish and Sam's gaze.  All the blaze and glory she had displayed confronting the homeless man seemed to melt away as she once more felt diminished in Sam, her tormentor's, presence.

In her presence, something deep in Trish's body was touched by Heather's quiet meekness. She felt to her like a powerful caged animal who had been captured. Spooked. Tormented by her captors, but with something primal and hidden deep inside of her that she was having trouble holding back.

"You look… good." Sam said managing to force himself to compliment her.

"I think you look hot!" Trish said reassuringly and gave Heather a smile that played behind her eyes and gave Heather the momentary confidence to look her in the eyes and mouth "thanks."

"Come on in," Trish said opening the door wide to allow Heather's bulk to slip in. Sam, no doubt annoyed with Trish's out and out fawning over Heather shot her an annoyed look and made a note that he'd definitely have to talk to her later.

But the gaze was wholly lost on Trish who was watching Heather brush past her giving Trish a view of the girl's mammoth back which was barred by the glitzy top. As Heather sauntered past Trish, Trish's eyes traveled down to the sculpted globes of Heather's powerfully developed glutes which popped and stretched as she made her way into the apartment. The top of each muscle of her ass cheek clenching hard as her heels clicked into the apartment.

"My… god…" Trish mouthed meeting Sam's gaze as she watched Heather mammoth back cascade past her.  Sam decided he'd act like he didn't see his girlfriend's slack-jawed reaction to the bodybuilder. But his annoyance was growing. How fucking disrespectful he thought. I give this girl a job, promote her, and she has the gal to go all gooey over this freak!! But he knew he needed to keep his emotions in check.

###

The chair creaked as Heather sat down on it and Trish let off a quiet smile as she looked over and could see the rock hard flesh of Heather's thigh spill over the side. It looked like tanned; chunked golden brown rubber displaced amidst the relatively small seat of the chair which was no doubt designed to seat a normal human being, not a roid freak with near Phil Heath level leg development.

"So like we promised you! Protein!" Sam said and put the plate out on the table. The large server's platter was stacked high with chicken breast fresh from the oven and had been about the one sight that could draw Heather's gaze away from Trish's aquiline beauty. She looked at the thick cuts of meat. The osta and the hard workout was causing her to rip, tear down and rebuild the musculature of her dynamo of a body faster than seemed feasibly possible and she craved protein in a way that was genuinely terrifying. In fact, if anyone knew what was happening inside of her mind, they would be sacred for their safety, as coming between her and food right now would be like coming between a Rottweiler and its food bowl.

Heather had to laugh a bit at herself and fight the urge to take the entire plate. Sam and Trish had purchased and cooked up nearly 5 or so pounds of lean chicken breast – an amount at or near Heather alone consumed for herself at an entire meal in order to keep the 350 pounds of muscle she sported on her physique.

She didn't want to look like a freak in front of the beautiful Trish, so she tried her best to eat delicately, lightly chewing the food. She could see both Trish and Sam looking at her as she made her way through her third serving of meat. Their eyes no doubt off-put by the hard flexions of her jaw muscles with each bite. The symptom of both her low body fat and the PEDs she regularly ingested which had a habit of developing any muscle she put to use to an extreme including her back jaw muscles. She could for the first time see a bit of disgust creep into Trish's dark brown eyes, so she stopped eating.

"Thank you for cooking this. It's good." Heather said demurely.

"I'm glad you like it. You certainly have an appetite on you." Sam said trying to needle her. Trish squeezed his thigh hard in a way that said ‘be nice,' and Sam nearly let out a scream.

"She's an athlete Sam," Trish said and gave Heather a reassuring look that said she was not disgusted at all and tripped off a warm feeling in Heather's gut.

"Bodybuilding's not a sport," Sam said. "It's just based on looks, right?"

"That's not necessarily true. Some of the strength levels of bodybuilders are off the charts high." Heather said, with the topic of her favorite sport in play causing her to grow in confidence. "Like for me – I can bench well over 600, 700 pounds and squat for reps nearly twelve hundred. That's an entire refrigerator." Heather said with a slight brag.

Trish suddenly felt flushed and coughed a sip of her wine catching in her throat. She had, of course, figured that Heather was strong, but the very graphic and precise level of her strength left her feeling flushed and oh so powerless and helpless in front of this women. She could immediately feel her boobs harden, and her nipples perk up and turn rock hard under her top and press out into her brassiere. Each breath now and fluttering of her chest caused her newly hardened breasts to brush against the back of her bra tickling and turning her on to a degree she felt she had hardly ever known.

"Wow…" Trish said, she thought under her breath but could be heard by the entire table. Heather smiled in her direction, and Sam looked angry.

Sam was eager to get down to business. Heather had always disconcerted him, and here she was sitting in his house, eating his food, in fact he had felt a bit of competitiveness as she sat down to dinner and had tried to match her tireless consumption of chicken breast but was soon disgusted as he had to stop, full, after only his second serving as he sat and watched the butch girl across from him consume nearly double the calories.

"So Heather… I want to talk about why I thought it was important for us to meet… I think there may be a bit of a misunderstanding between us. I'm worried that you may get the wrong impression from how I act as a boss. You realize a lot of the times when I say the stuff I say to you, that I'm joking." He said nodding in her direction hoping to encourage a dialogue between them.

"You realize that, right?" He asked again.

Heather nodded meekly.

"Good" Sam thought. Convincing this bovine blonde he was on her side would be easier then he thought. God, the steroids must have straight up melted her brain, he thought to himself.

"When I'm hard on you. I only do it because I really like you as an employee." He continued, his Cheshire Cat's grin disarming Heather. For her part next to her, Trish could completely tell what he was doing and wanted to yell to Heather not to buy it, but she sat quietly, observing the undertaking.,

"You're not only a good employee. You're a great one. The level of work you do is second to none." This Sam did not need to lie about, at her job Heather was a machine, her level of discipline clearly discernable in her bodybuilder bulked body was also translated into her work which was beyond the level of any other employee as Heather surely knew she could never give Sam an excuse to fire her, so she prepared reports with the same level of discipline she gave to her training.

"I want to make you an offer. A raise and a promotion and the opportunity to telecommute so you can work from home." The last little bit had been Sam's little motivating action; he wanted nothing more than to get Heather out of his sight. If he could lock her in a warehouse on the other side of the country and chain her to her desk to produce corporate reports 24/7 he would have. With Heather out of the office, he'd lost the only threat to his dominance in the office as a win-win.

And for Heather it was a win-win as well she knew with the freedom of working from home, from anywhere, she could spread her work out and get her training up to the five or so hours a day she wanted to dedicate to elevating her body to a new level of brutality, and the freedom would allow her to work in her undies from her home, blasting her body repeatedly throughout the day with dose after dose of high level chemicals, all the time flaunting herself in front of the mirror, her growing level of muscularity acting as a motivation to herself to keep going, keep pushing herself forward.

In fact, it all sounded great, the only hint or hesitation she might have was in not seeing Trish again. Her beauty had sparked something inside of her tonight… a deep connection that she was hoping for. Was Trish something Heather had been searching for, for so long… a friend? Some piece of a community – a place for her to belong?

"I'd – I'd like that," Heather said, and Sam lit up. But next to him Trish felt a flush of sadness. For her too, the idea of not seeing Heather left her feeling melancholy, but she hid her sadness behind resolve. After all, this was what she wanted. What the goal of the night was… who knows maybe she'd get to see the bodybuilding blonde at office events and she could make do.

"Hot dog!" Sam cried out. Thrilled his plan had worked out. "What's say we celebrate? I have that Momnteraux Chanteu 75 upstairs! I'll crack it, huh sweety pops!?" He said continuing to bounce in his seat as he turned and planted a hard kiss on Trish's mouth. She was still reeling from the news.

"Uh helloo…" Sam said obnoxiously flashing his hand in front of Trish's face to get her attention. "Earth to t-bags!" He said and gave her boobs a squeeze to get her attention – perhaps momentarily forgetting that they had company. The squeeze was incredibly aggressive and violent, and Trish's arms went instinctively to protect herself.

Heather too had seen it and flinched. A flicker of anger was firing in herself, and she clenched the seat hard, nearly cracking the wood. Her eyes met Trish who flashed a look of "Please… don't…" And Heather momentarily relaxed appeased that it had been a mere indiscretion.

"Fine—fine…" Trish said holding her hands across her chest, still feeling violated.

"How ‘bout you my beasty, beasty accountant?" Sam said in Heather's direction. The new nickname seeming to be fun and complimentary but a note of dread hung underneath it as it felt very much like an insult, and it was soon becoming obvious that Sam's appeasement earlier was just an act to get his way.

"Let's get some wine. Do you drink wine, Heather? It doesn't interfere with any of the – you know…" He flashed his hand vaguely in Heather's direction, the subtle nature of the comment on the surface meant to appear as if Sam was talking about Heather's diet and regimented lifestyle, but with the hinted undertones of implying her gear usage.

For her part, Heather was still taken aback by Sam's unwanted grabbing of Trish, but she was slowly calming herself down. She never indulged in alcohol, it was empty calories, and Sam did have a point, it's effect when combined with the heavy doses of hormones were wildly unpredictable, but this was a special occasion she was trying her best to stay in Sam's good graces and besides she knew that the wine's high sugar content mixed with her recent workout would surge right to her most prominent veins, pumping them hard and high. The thick blue veins of her biceps and the snaking capillaries of her forearms and traps would begin to bulge and pulsate with life, blinking like lights in the dark. She very much wanted Trish to see her like this, and give her another vantage point of her amazing physique.

"Okay, why don't you ladies grab a seat on the couch and I will grab the Montreux!" Sam said hoping off his seat and leading Trish by her wrist before giving her a hard slap on her butt which thwacked off her tight jean clad ass. The blow had only been slightly less offensive than the boob grab, and Trish winced slightly. Again the interaction was not lost on Heather as the two took the couch.

[009eli]

Next Chapter

Heather went to say something to Trish. Are you okay? She wanted to say, but Trish shook it off. In a way that said please don't ask. And changed the subject.

"I want to know about you." She said sitting down next to the muscle girl. Meeting Heather's gorgeous green eyes with her own dark brown ones in a stirring connection and meeting of souls.

"Can I see photos of you before you started training?" Trish asked enthusiastically. The connection between them was becoming so powerful Trish wanted to know all about her.

"I don't know – I was such an ugly little porker?" Heather said back beginning to unwind. Growing playful.

"Ugly? I don't think that's possible." And Trish reached out and stroked the underside of Heather's prominent cheekbone with the back of her hand. The large muscle girl immediately acquiesced and lowered her head slightly welcoming the touch.

Heather noticed Trish's eyes travel down from her eyes to her lips to her chin finally resting on the mammoth muscles of her chest.

In acknowledgment of Trish's gaze on her muscle tits, Heather slowly brought her hands in front of each other and clasped her small manicured fingers together, squeezed hard, sending ripples under her tanned skin.

If the flexations in front of homeless man were brutal surges of power meant to show dominance. These were slow, controlled ripples, small tide pool waves flowing this way and that under the skin. Flickering just under the surface like unspooled rolls of silk.  And Trish gagged slightly as Heather turned her fist roiling the pectoral meat up from the bottom under her blouse up towards her chin in soft, undulating waves.

Heather knew she needed to be careful here, the soft, slow rolling waves going back… and forth… back… and forth could lull the viewer into a hypnotic state of muscle reverie, the wavey ripples of beefy flesh rolling… oh… so… slowly… up… and… oh… so… slowly down… would, after a prolonged period of exposure, leave the viewer so entranced it may be hard to break away so Heather knew she'd have to proceed with care since she was enjoying Trish's company so much and didn't wish to render her incapacitated.

"Are they- are they as hard as they look?" Trish asked stammering out and broke out of a light trance.

Meanwhile, to Trish, the scent of sexual charisma was coming off Heather in strong musky waves that may have been imperceptible to Sam– but Trish was incredible, getting stuck in her throat, sickly sweet. She noticed then that she had been sitting, twisting her small wrists back and forth counter and clockwise in a nervous tick to dispel the energy building in her inside of her body and in the one thing she could so to keep herself from reaching out and grabbing one of the thick exposed meaty shoulders, beefy lats or the bulbous triceps that were hanging off the mountain of muscle seated in front of her.

"Are—are you arms as hard as they look?" Trish finally managed to stammer out breaking her gaze from Heather's taut muscle tits and slowly plowing her brain back to talk about the more socially acceptable muscle group of the bicep, but none of the subtext was lost on the two females.

Heather, silently smiled, a grin playing on her plump bubblegum pink lips, and a bit of the bright white of her perfect teeth appearing between them. She sat, straight upright and sucked in her chest and clenching her fist - popped! Her bicep up high and hard into flex for the smaller girl to feel.

"My God…" Trish said, completely stunned as she ran her fingers over the peaked mountain of muscle in front of her. It was hard as a rock and huge, and she had to form both of her hands around to even hope of copping it, which she didn't come close. Underneath her fingers, she could feel the hard fibers of Heather's astonishing development. And as she ran her fingernail over the bicep peak, she could actually feel the muscle fibers playing under the girl's soft, zero body fat level skin.

The muscle was warm, but rock hard, like marble covered in silky smooth flesh and Heather held the muscle out high in front of Trish's face, keeping her arm flexed hard, with no seeming level of effort to hold the pose. Trish continued to run her finger over the high bicep peak of the arm, then down into the inner side of the muscle where the curve of the bicep connected to the phone book thick tricep underneath, Trish continued to drag her finger along the inner edge, tracing the thick curve of the arm.

Trish let off a giggle. It was soft, like a schoolgirl's coo at getting away with something she shouldn't have. Like being tickled, and Heather responded in kind, giggling back. Which made Trish laugh even harder, averting her eyes in a diminutive manner and looking down at the floor parting her lips longingly. Heather giggled again. The girls were literally sitting their cooing to each other like a set of birds as the small lingerie model of a brunette traced the muscle of the larger blonder bodybuilder.

Trish had to fight the urge to open her mouth. Purse her lips and run, the warm softness of her tongue tripping off the tippy, top peaked mountain of Heather's bicep.

In fact, Trish was fighting just deep throating Heather's peaked bicep when –

"I couldn't find the Montreaux so we'll have to settle for LePheit Patek Chandon…" Sam said popping back into the living room and holding up a bottle of white.

Trish quickly broke her grasp of Heather's arm as Sam reentered but to all assembled it had been too late, and Sam caught enough of a glimpse of the impromptu arm worship session to get a good sense of what was going on.

"I—I should… use the ladies room." Heather said meekly sensing a good point for her to remove herself from the room and needing to, in speedy fashion, attend to what was happening in the regions of her panties which had, in the moments on the couch and in the worship by Trish become sticky with the soft wet release of her womanly precum.

"I'll show you where it is." Said Sam popping up and walking behind the big blonde and leading her down the hall.

"Right here…" He said flipping on the light in the bathroom – He turned to leave as Heather went to the close the door but—

Sam suddenly jammed his foot into the doorway and pushed his way into the small, cramped bathroom.

"And you know… " He said stopping in front of Heather, a look of menace in his eyes. "Don't forget to-tap-tap…"

And then did something Heather swore she would never forget. He turned the back of his hand and gently tapped it against the outside of Heather's skirt. Right at her crotch. Holding it there for a brief moment cupping it just enough that she could feel his long skinny fingers dig in.

Shock, fear, and disgust fired through Heather's body like she had never felt before.

"Hope everything… turns out okay." Sam said giving Heather a weak evil smile and backing out of the room.

Heather ran to the door locking it behind her and slumped onto the toilet seat. She felt ill. Sick to her stomach. In fact, she felt worse then ill. She felt brutally violated. She wanted to scream. To punch something. Her fist sought to dig into the marble of the countertop, but she was so self-hating right at the moment she instead turned the feeling inward. On herself. Her disgust rippling through her body and clenched her fist so hard together, her knuckles turned ghost white, and her nails dug into her skin causing the underside of her palms to begin to bleed.

She felt dizzy and like she was going to be sick. But what to do… Assault Sam? Beat the ever-living shit out of him? In what? His own apartment? And then she'd be what? A roided up freak who'd beat up her boss? He had her future in her hands? Who knows what guys like this get away with? With his father? His lawyers… she could lose what little she had and spend years in jail. And then there was Trish to think about, if Heather hurt Sam, as soon as she left he'd no doubt take it out on Trish. This is what sexual harassment was. What the proctor had talked about earlier in that day, a way to minimize the victim to make them feel powerless. Like something less than human.

Now, sitting there with her panties around her ankles, bunched up against the heels she'd spent so long picking out to look pretty and beautiful for once in her life she could begin to hear the slow, drip, drip of the blood coming from her hands and a sob caught in her mighty chest, she knew she'd buckle down and do nothing. She felt so powerless, like a coward. And she now hated herself more than anyone. SHE was now the most dreaded object of her own hatefulness. Sam had won, he'd crushed her. She had nothing left.

Stifling a sob, she stood up and pulled her panties up and dabbed the blood off her hands. She looked at herself in the mirror.

‘My god… you are pathetic.' She said to herself as the snot caked around her nose and the tears caused her big green eyes to red run.

‘Look at you! You freak! You fucking disgusting freak! You fucking roided up freak! What the fuck are all these big muscles for… You're pathetic!' She squeezed hard nearly denting the marble counter and quickly gathered her purse to head out of the apartment.

She wanted to leave.  She'd keep her head down and run out. Maybe she could just get home and calm down. She knew she'd have to face Sam again more at work and the thought made her sick. What would she do? Her mind was racing and now flooded with adrenaline, fear, self-loathing and the constant pumping of the steroids she had shot earlier which seemed to make her feel oh so powerful mere hours ago but now were causing her to crash.

She kept her head down and barreled to the door through the living room.

"Heather? You okay?" She heard Trish call out.

"Yup. Fine. Just should get home." She said still keeping her head down, not wanting Trish, the oh so beautiful Trish who had this evening touched and made her feel wanted and like a human being for the first time in a very long time, to see her this way.

But Trish knew something was wrong she could see Heather's eyes were red and bloodshot.

"Heather…" Trish said trying to chase down the blonde who was quickly grabbing her stuff on her way out of the apartment.

"She said she's okay!" Said Sam grabbing at Trish's arm snapping her back.

"No…" Trish said clawing at Sam's hand trying to get it off of her.

And it was then that it happened.

Sam wrung back and SLAP!! Cleanly backhanded Trish across the face sending her crashing to the floor, her lip split and momentarily stunned.

Heather didn't even need to react. Faster then Sam had ever seen anyone move in his life. 350 lb of pure muscle cleared clean across the living room and –

SLAM! Raising a single one of her piston powerful legs high in the air. Slammed Sam pressing him hard against the wall. Pinning him with the sheer power of her small foot, he hung a few feet off the ground, dangling in mid-air. Heather's foot pushing hard into his chest.

The blow had been powerful enough to knock the wind clean out of him, but that had not been the worst of it. Heather was now bearing down hard, slowly extending her foot. Digging it deeper and deeper into his chest. The pain was excoriating, and along with the loss of breath, he was beginning to feel the very real possibility that his ribs giving way under the blondes immense power of her single leg.

"L-l-let me g-g-go you freak…" Sam said his chest heaving for breath.

Heather remained standing stock still. A single foot planted on the ground while the other leg hung in the air continuing to drive Sam into the wall with added pressure. Sam's eyes bugged wide as he began to see the underside of Heather's hamstring, which looked like thick bridge cables, lock into placing flexing and pushing outward with more and more power and the starting realizing that she was not yet using anywhere near all of her strength

For her part, Trish looked up from the floor. The slap had been enough to startle her, and her lip was still bleeding, but as she blearily looked around she could just see the small foot of Heather planted firmly on the ground leading to the expense of the single placed calf which churned and pulsed with power as Heather worked to keep Sam pinned to the wall with her other foot.

"No… Heather… no…" Trish said climbing to her feet and worried that the girl may do very real serious damage to Sam thus causing her new friend even more problems.

As Trish pulled herself up, she moved to Heather. "Please let's just talk." She said and tried her best to momentarily release her leg lock on Sam whose face was beginning to turn beet red as he gasped for oxygen. But as Trish tried to push Heather, it was no use. It was like gnats bouncing off a silverback, she swung and struck out her hands, but Heather stayed locked in place like a statue seemingly exerting little to no effort to hold Trish back. And soon Trish's punches seemed comical to her as Heather gingerly extended a hand out holding her back in a way that was protective and sweet as if you'd do to a child you wanted to keep safe.

Trish's blows soon turned loopy, and she couldn't help but start laughing at the fact that she was literally doing nothing to even move the big girl. She laughed and laughed harder falling all over herself in a punch-drunk state of loppiness and Heather began to laugh. She began to laugh through her tears, and Trish felt into her arm sliding down the rock hard side of her body kissing and caressing the powerful arms of her mighty defender.

Sam, for his part, was not laughing, and he continued to weld and swing his punched with what little energy he had as the oxygen seeped from his body wildly and erratically at Heather's thick quad. His balled up fists bounced pathetically off, SWAT! SWAT! Off Heather rock hard quad but seemed to merely be a nuisance to the bodybuilder who continued to smile as she held him in place.

Finally sensing that Sam was coming near his end, Heather gingerly removed her foot from his chest and Sam dropped to the ground like a sack.

His face was an ungodly shade of red, and he coughed, trying desperately to suck air into his chest cavity which he was amazed hasn't been cracked.

"I'm- I'm going to fucking get you, you fucking roid freak bitch!!" He cried from the ground holding his chest in pain.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do?" Said Trish getting in his face and Heather and she stood above him smiling down proudly.

"I'm—I'm going to call the cops…" He cried.

"And tell them what? You hit your girlfriend and then got beaten up by one of your female coworkers who you invited to your house for dinner?" Trish said tauntingly as Sam lied there on the ground he realized it was true, he'd have no case if he involved law enforcement and besides something else, something else very bizarre was happening.

Both girls had to hold back titters. They had to hold back rolling laughter because as Trish pointed --

"Fucking A, Sam? Why do you have an erection?'

It was true. As both girls looked down, despite Sam's coughing and whizzing, the crotch of his pants was tented high and hard with a rock hard erection pointing up at the girls. It had seemingly and surprisingly started during the leg pin but only seemed to grow in painful length.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Heather said with a sly playful smirk in her friend's direction. Trish needed.

Outside the night was dark and cool and only the low engine hum of a few car engines passing could be heard.

"Let's finish him off in the bedroom." Said Heather grabbing Sam by the scruff of his neck and hoisting him off the ground.

[009eli]

Next chapter as things move into the bedroom

CHAPTER 8 – Endgame Part i - Nocturnum

The hour was beginning to get late, as the song goes. The cars passing outside the apartment had started to slow to a crawl as it seemed like the people of the city were headed home from their jobs, the bars and the night was beginning to draw in. With just the occasional sound of a vehicle passing it was easy to believe that you were one of the only people left in the world.

At least that’s how it was starting to feel in the apartment.

Within moments of his collapse Heather had hoisted Sam over one of her muscular shoulders and following Trish’s lead taken him down the long hall to the bedroom.

Occasionally, Sam still coming too, would bounce and smack his head against the beefy girl’s back, the momentum of him rocking as he was carried like a relatively light sack would occasionally send his head crashing into the twin iron like columns of Heather’s lower back, or the meaty overhangs of her mid back thickness.

“Egrhuh…” He murmured. Still trying to come to and get his bearings.

“Shhh…. Shhh…. Quiet, sweetheart….” He heard Trish whisper to him softly. She hung upside down (or was she actually right side up and he was upside down) in front of his bleary eyes.

“In here…” Trish said hoisting open the door as Heather followed. Navigating her thickness in past the doorframe.

“Dump him…” Trish said pointing to the bed. Heather let him go, and Sam flew through the air and crashed down hard onto the large bed that took up much of the room.

Trish sat down beside her boyfriend and in a sing-songy voice looked at him, mock concern dancing in her eyes.

“So Sammy? What is it… What’s turning you on…” She cooed as she slowly began to stroke the underside of his cock through his trousers.

Heather stood a few feet away, she was silhouetted in the moonlight coming through the blinds. Her back to Trish and her chest held high puffed up, breathing… and trying to slowly calm herself after both the adrenaline shot of the excitement and the effort of carrying Sam down the hallway.

There, bathed in the moonlight and still wearing her 5-inch heels, to Trish seated on the bed, the bodybuilder looked immense against the nighttime sky. Her vast wedges of meaty back twisting and turning in the shadows and blocking out much of the light coming in from the street below. Her thick arms hanging at her sides and allowing only for the streams of moonglow to escape in between the beefy thickness of her arms and lats and the tininess of her skirt-clad waist.

Trish watched in interest as her friend begin to sway her hips sultrily from side to side seeming to dance to some music only she could hear.

“So… Sammy… wh-what is it?” Trish stammered a bit on her words in a play of sexiness. “Is it the girl on girl? Is it the strength? Is it the fear? Is it the… muscle?”

Trish then… very…. Slowly slid her nail up… past Sam’s shaft and up to his belt and with a quick flick of her ‘fuck me red’ nail polished cover nailed she quickly undid the zipper, and his cock sprung to life.

“Or it is it all of the above?” She continued. Taking his shaft which was now incredibly, painfully hard, blue veins running and crisscrossing its surface and as the head of his monster seemed to be turning purple and pointing skyward.  Trish traced her finger up from the underside of its shaft, the powerfully wedged loogie of his seamen bulging at the base of his cock and slowly, with her upturned hand over the head of his dick, brushing and rubbing the pre-cum that had begun to spill from it. She cupped his head and slowly, started to stroke it. Just his head and his dick went wild with convulsions.

“Oh H.?” Trish said calling to the buff blonde who was continuing to gyrate just a few feet away.

“Yes, T?” Heather called back, following and falling in line with the new set of girly nicknames her and her fellow tormentor had adopted for each other. Heather continued to sashay and sultrily shake her hips… now… running her hands through her long thick blonde hair and rubbing it seductively. Her voice too seemed to have an added level of depth, still cute, feminine and a little girly, there was now an undercurrent of intensity to it that wasn’t there before. A power. A centeredness that she knew she could ascribe to beginning to feel entirely in her element. The gear had started to take hold a bit more, it’s powerful male hormones mixing with the feminine giving her a powerful sexual assertiveness that she rarely displayed in public.

This was something she reserved for private. For her posing sessions for herself in the mirror when she was at home and felt comfortable. But how was this bedroom any different then her’s at home, and she could feel who she truly was coming out.

“H-, my wittle, wittle wittle boifwend is having a problem with his wittle, wittle wittle wee wee…” Trish said in a mocking baby girl voice as she continued to tickle her fingers on Sam’s blood engorged member.

For her part to Trish’s baby girl coo had sent powerful ripples up Heather’s spine as well, the soft feminine coo and oh-so-girliness of it had played powerfully into her growing feelings.

“Wee can’t tell if he wikes just gurwls… or muscle gurls…” Trish continued as  Heather trotted over to the bed, her powerful calves and heels echoing across the wood floor. Heather bent down, slowly at the hips, her huge shoulders and upper body coming into view as she eclipsed most of Trish’s vantage point of the room.

As Heather leaned over her – Trish momentarily was frightened. ‘That size!’ she thought, for a moment forgetting this was her protector, that’s just how massive Heather was.

As Heather came down, she forced both of her fists down into the mattress.  The heaviness of her over 300lbs of beef caused the bed to shake and as she bent over the supporting of her weight caused her triceps to bunch, jump, and flex pushing out hard and stretching her skin.

Trish was shaking with both fear, lust, and desire as Heather leaned in and – slowly brushed her soft pink lips against the brunettes. Bee-stung and soft Trish could get just a hint of moisture off them. She sighed, and Heather bit down on Trish’s lower lip, biting it just-oh-so lightly with her healthy white teeth. Trish moaned and kissed the big girl, hard. And harder.

Pulling away from Heather’s pink lips for a moment, she looked down at Sam’s crotch – feeling his shaft go into overdrive.

“I think I got our answer… All of the above.” The two girls laughed.

“Oh H?”
“Yes, T?” Heather countered playing along with the game.
“Can you show my wittle, wittle boyfriend what a real man’s supposed to look like?” Trish said pulling away from Heather’s pouty lips for a moment and leaning back on her elbows.
“Of course I can T, but you know… I’m all woman.” Heather said and began to back up a bit and sway her hips again powerfully.
“Oh.. Oh I know,” Trish said.

She took her hand off Sam’s shaft in preparation for the show that was about to begin. She took Sam’s hand, who was still gargling and gurgling uncontrollably and placed it on his shaft. He seemed to not know what to do with it, and for a moment resisted, but Trish slowly began to move it up and down… up and down, rhythmically and soon Sam – had fallen into the groove provided by Trish’s discarded hand and continued to stroke himself as well, seemingly with no control, his eyes rolling back in his head as he gave in and continued to stroke his cock with a seemingly animalistic furor.

“He seems… busy…” Trish said and pushed herself off the bed and joined Heather.

“I don’t want any… hindrances…” Trish said and scraped her finger along the top of her own skirt and with a few quick flicks unbuttoned the top button and shimmied it down to her waist. Now standing there in just her heels and underwear. The top of her high cut blouse stopping inches above the base of her flat stomach and the top of her thong.

Heather was in heaven. Trish, bathed in the evening light, was perfect. Long legs, smooth and shapely with little thrusts of muscle around her knees, perfectly tan and with the tiniest and tightest ass that seemed to jut out perfectly from the back of her small waist. Trish was everything a woman was supposed to look like, and Heather was a fan. In another life this is what she would have wanted to look like, to be… the kind of woman who walks into any room and every man (and woman’s) head spins in envy.

“You.. have the cutest ass…” Heather said appreciatively and spun Trish around inspecting her small perky ass in her underwear.

“Oh, I don’t know… It could be a little bigger…” Trish said cupping the little firmness of her ass in her hands and suddenly now a bit insecure that she was seemingly being inspected by a living, walking marble statue of muscle.

“Nope… It’s just adorbs…” Heather said as Trish, jutting her butt out a little almost in a bikini competitor pose, and Heather gave the body part a light tap with the back of her hand. Giggling and losing herself in the joy as she watched Trish’s ass jiggle slightly in response to the tap.

“Okay… Enough of me. Show! Show!” Trish called out clapping her hands and getting wildly excited.

“I—“ And Heather stopped. She had her finger placed under her blouse and was about to lift it off, but she had stopped. She looked down, and Trish could sense a shift in her friend's demeanor. She knew how sensitive this monster of a woman could be and had seen this look in her eye earlier at the dinner table and before in the breakroom when Sam would mock her.

“Shh… shh… Sweety… it’s okay. What is it?” Trish said taking Heather’s small chin in her hand and raising it up into the moonlight so she could look her new friend in the eye.

“I don’t want –“ Heather broke eye contact, once again looking down. “I don’t want you to think I’m… gross.”

“I don’t ever think you’re gross. I think you are beautiful. Do you hear me?” Trish said back bringing Heather’s eyes back up to meet hers. “Do you hear me, Heather?” She said again with a sternness that Heather found both surprising and reassuring. “Because you are beautiful. You’re amazing. Don’t let anyone tell you different.” And Trish kissed Heather hard and deep on the lips.

Heather took a deep breath and dragged her small, tanned finger over the button of her skirt. She had waited a long time to do this –

The night was growing still. And quiet. She could only hear her breath, and Trish’s behind her and her breathing was heavy. With a sigh, she snapped her skirt off, and it dropped to the ground.

She could hear Trish stop breathing and then she heard –

“Oh… Oh my god…”

There was silence from behind Heather.

“You—think I’m hideous…” Heather said going to gather up her skirt.

But she felt Trish’s hand grab her hand and stop her.

“No… No… I think you’re fucking amazing!” Trish finally said.

The view for Trish WAS amazing. In front of her was the most chiseled muscular ass she had ever seen in her life. A living, breathing sculpture of human potential hanging there in front of her chin which was hanging loosely off her face, slack-jawed and about to hit the floor. Two huge globes of hard chiseled muscular beef, with a tiny string of Heather’s pink thong, caught desperately between the two full cheeks, its small pink string looking like it was getting the life strangled out of it by the muscular globes.

Heather began to roll her hips forward clenching her glutes together, and the thousands of lines of striations seemed to fracture and become even more pronounced in the moonlight. Thousands of small intersections and insertions of veins crisscrossed and pulsed to life like streets on a city map made of flesh.

Trish gasped again. Her entire view of was taken up with hard rippling, tanned muscle. Everywhere she looked.

Trish was never one for ‘muscular guys.’ Sure a little bit of muscle tone was nice. Mark Wahlberg without his shirt on wasn’t bad to look at, but to her eye bodybuilders always looked like inflated, giant balloons. The muscle under their skin like hard veiny erections ready to burst. And if anything there huge overly pumped muscles looked baboonishly insensible making them look more like shaved monkeys then potential sexual mates.

But as Trish’s eyes gazed across Heather’s expanse of deeply tanned flesh in front of her – none of that now crossed her mind. Heather was so extreme, so beyond human, she was… beautiful. Her body was living breathing art. And Trish laughed a bit at the thought that it was so grotesque that it had circled entirely around and became beautiful.

As Trish gazed on the brown swells of meat – she fought a sickening feeling of bile in her stomach. Fear at the massive mounds of muscle in front of her shifting and she had to battle with her own inner monologue telling her to seek safety.

What Trish’s had fought with as she’d occasionally look at the muscle men on those magazine covers was just how unnatural they looked – and make no mistake as Trish looked at Heather’s ghastly display in front of her there was nothing natural here either. Even to Trish’s undiscerning eye, this was roid muscle, entirely unnaturally built and Trish for a few seconds truly was scared of the science experiment in front of her –

As she looked closer in the ghostly light of the evening, she could even see small tracts, entry marks and pockmarks from where Heather had no doubt injected herself countless times. Underneath the girl's dark rippling skin they were hard to decipher, but as the light passed outside, they were clear.

As Trish took this in, this living breathing wonder of godlike flesh made real – she felt not disgust but… a striking stirring of beauty. The sacrifices Heather had made to manifest this body were beyond anything that Trish could fathom, either for herself or anyone else. How many countless hours spent exercising to build a body like this? Or the diet? The drugs? Heather seemed another life form and Trish’s disgust, within the blink of an eye gave way to awe.

This was a godlike being in front of her, and she wanted time to stop. To stop right there so she could worship her.

[Poddy]

I might get bashed for commenting on an older story, but I'm astonished this story doesn't have bags more praise and comments than it does. Your writing is absolutely gripping Eli, and I'm saying that as someone who isn't really into this type of story either.

But the descriptions are superbly vivid and arresting, not to mention imaginative, which is seriously impressive given the source material. I labour to find new ways to describe muscle growth and my character's muscularity, it takes a lot of time and patience. In some ways you've inspired me that there is still more meat on the proverbial bone than I realised.

Anyway, I felt it was something of an injustice to see this story continue without the praise it deserves. I hope you continue writing and contributing your talents to this forum! K+