+Notable Author: [grbaclig] Stories~collected

[grbaclig]

 

Stories in this collection:

Bubblegum, Pigtails, and Total Domination

Broken Hearts and Broken Bones

Hostile Work Environment

Big Girls on Campus


***PLEASE READ THE INTRO--ADULTS ONLY*** 
***A few years ago, I was working for my uncle’s renovation company in Iowa.  We spent about a month at this old home for juvenile delinquents.  When we were cleaning out the bunks, I found a few pages of a makeshift diary stashed in an old box-spring.  It was a pretty ridiculous story—I don’t know whether it’s a teenage delinquent’s sexual fantasy about a muscle girl bully, or if it’s based on the actual life events of a meathead in denial.  I hadn’t looked at these papers in years, but I found them cleaning out my attic, and I thought you guys might appreciate it.  I’m having to clean up a lot of the language and grammar because it gets progressively racier and less coherent, so I’ve broken it into chapters which I will post one at a time.  ***

Bubblegum, Pigtails, and Total Domination
by grbaclig
_______________________

Chapter 1 – I Was A King Until The Queen Arrived

       My first two weeks at the New Beginnings juvenile correction center were a lot better than I expected them to be.  The food was decent, the bunks were soft, and there were a bunch of barns and silos where we could sneak cigarettes after the counselors went home.  It was a better place to serve out a sentence than the other juvenile facilities that I used to go to back in Nebraska.  Heck it was a better than being back at home and going to that stupid secondary high school.  I was 17, so most of the other kids were a few years younger than me, and when I told stories about pushing my Firebird up to 100 mph or how easy it was for me to buy smokes, they looked up at me like I was a king.  And I kind of was a king until Becky Finklestein showed up.
       I had a group of little punks that always sat around me in the cafeteria during lunch.  It was a few girls that liked to check out my muscles and a few guys that wanted me to talk about banging my girlfriend Angie.  The chicks were kind of plain and the guys were pussies, but I could always get someone to give me their dessert or their pop, so I was cool with it.  Every once in a while I would flex for the girls or show the guys one of the pictures of Angie that I kept in my wallet, just to make sure they knew who was king.  Then one Monday that all stopped, because Becky Finklestein stopped it in about fifteen minutes.
       Monday mornings are always some dumb group therapy session, but lunch is usually pizza with cookies for dessert so it’s not that bad.  After lunch I asked this kid Tony for his cookie. “I can’t Stephen,” he squeaked.
       “What do you mean you can’t?” I asked him, getting all up in his face, because I’m like twice his size.
       Tony gulped.  “Becky Finklestein checked in this morning and she told everyone in the girls’ dorm that from now on she wants everyone’s cookies.”
       One of the uglier chicks, Suzanne I think, got all uptight all of a sudden.  “I was at the Hope for a New Life center with her.  I thought they sent her to penitentiary or something.”
       “I think she’s pretty,” Tony said.
       “Who the hell is Becky Finklestein?” I asked.
       “I’m Becky Finklestein,” said a voice from behind me.
I followed over my shoulder as Becky walked around to the end of the table.  She was about four and a half feet tall, with tangles of red hair pulled back in pigtails, thick glasses, fat lips, and freckles all over her face.  She was wearing a gray sweatsuit that was about five sizes too big for her.  Heck it would have been two sizes too big on me.  Her sweatsuit top had some logo on the front, except you couldn’t really see the logo because she had this giant rack that she pointed at people when she talked to them.  I could see the twerp guys at the table trying not to stare at her tits, and failing.  Me, I like skinny chicks like Angie, so I just thought she looked stupid being that short with boobs that big. I thought that if I pushed her over, she would be stuck on her back like a turtle. 
       “Everybody give me your cookieshhh,” she said to the table. 
Oh man she had a chirpy voice and a retainer that made her lisp.  I about lost it right there.  She didn’t lisp all the time, but she did it often enough that she sounded like a girl dork from a cartoon or something.  Everyone else passed their cookies down to the end of the table, but I just went back to my lunch.  “Hey you big goofy dumbass, give me your cookie,” she said, pointing her funbags at me while she pointed her tiny index finger at my cookie.
       This was too much. I held up the cookie and looked her right in all four eyes at once. “Look kid, no twelve year old is going to shake me down for a cookie,” I said.  “Besides it will mess up your headgear.”
       Like a flash, she reached over Tony and snatched the cookie away, almost knocking him out of his chair with those giant cans.  I was legit impressed with her speed, but I probably could have kept the cookie if I really tried.  She held all of our cookies together in her dainty little hand and glared at me. “I’m not twelve, I’m eighteen,” she growled. “And I don’t wear headgear, I have a retainer.  Since you don’t know me, I’m going to let you get away with that little comment.  But from now on, when I ask for cookieshhh, you give me your cookie.”
Then she threw our cookies on the floor and stepped on them with her tiny high tops as she walked away.
       “Has her chest gotten even bigger?” one of the girls at the table asked.
       “Yeah,” Tony sighed.
       I snorted.  “Big tits just get in the way guys,” I said. “And they get all saggy and veiny.”  What you want is a girl like Angie.”  I took out the picture from my wallet and the guys all craned their necks over to get another image for their wank banks. “She’s dumb as a sack of hammers, but she looks like a model and she weighs 90 pounds soaking wet so I can split her in half with my dick.”
I winked at the best looking girl at the table, and she rolled her eyes but I knew she totally wanted it.

       No one had cookies for me to take after lunch, but I got this kid Kevin to give me a piece of his gum, so that was cool.  After lunch we had to walk to the barn so one of the counselors could teach us about horses or some shit, and Becky Finklestein was right in front of me.  I couldn’t help myself.  I took my gum out and squished it into her hair.  She stopped instantly but I kept walking.  “Oops,” I laughed.
       “You are shhho dead,” she hissed at me as I walked away.
       I looked over my shoulder and saw her picking at the gum in her nappy ginger curls and heading back to the main building.  There were a bunch of old school desks set up in the barn, and each one had a horseshoe and a bridle for us to look at during the presentation.  The old farmer dude that ran the barn was talking about horses and how we could work with horses so we could learn about ourselves.  It was dumb.  I was trying to decide which one of the chicks I would bang if I had to, when I heard straw crunching behind me.  Becky was marching toward me.  Without saying a word she picked up the horseshoe from my desk, wrenched it out of shape, set it back on my desk, and went to a seat on the other side of the barn in the back row of desks. 
       I looked down at the piece of metal on my desk.  I couldn’t believe it; it was almost completely straight.  I wanted to be a strongman back before I found out how hard it is to lift weights all the time, and I saw guys at the strongman shows bending horseshoes.  If they really busted their asses they could twist them a little bit out of shape in a couple of minutes, but this half-pint girl just straightened one out completely in about a half second.  I held it up to make sure it wasn’t some kind of trick metal or something, but it was legit heavy.  I looked across the barn and Becky Finklestein was sitting there, her eyes locked on me.  Everybody was watching the old farmer dude do something at the front of the barn except for her and me.  She held her right arm out and curled her hand into a tiny fist, and then she slowly started to flex her bicep. 
       A bitchy little smirk spread across her face as the baggy arm of her sweatshirt started to fill out.  The first thing I noticed was how skinny her wrist was, and I got a real good look at her wrist as the cuffs of her shirt pulled down and distorted under the strain of the sleeve tightening around her forearm.  It was unreal.  That sweatshirt would have been baggy on me, and I’m a jacked 17 year old stud who spent his entire junior year shooting steroids and lifting weights.  Her forearm had to be as big around as a softball to stretch out that sleeve.  And she hadn’t even really started flexing.   The baggy folds of fabric around her upper arm slowly disappeared, like someone was inflating a balloon in her sleeve.  As she slowly brought her arm into a full bicep flex, the sweatshirt sleeve went from baggy, to full, to tight, to skin tight.  And it wasn’t a balloon in there inflating, it was the biggest, most sharply peaked bicep I’ve ever seen in my life.  Becky stopped for a second with her arm up at a ninety degree angle and her fingers fanned out.  She blew a pink bubble and popped it, but I couldn’t hear anything because my heart was pounding in my ears.  Later, I remembered thinking that you weren't supposed to chew gum with a retainer in, but at that moment all I could think about was her bicep.  It wasn't possible for a girl that small to have muscles that big.  Her arm had stretched a XXL men’s sweatshirt tight enough for me to see the cuts of her shoulder and the double head of her bicep.  She might as well have been wearing spandex.  Then her eyes narrowed and her smirk turned into a scowl as she flexed down.  Her arm got even bigger, and even bigger, and even bigger, and from across the barn I could see the gray fabric at the top of her bicep split, exposing a slice of freckled skin.  She popped another bubble, and flexed down more, and that slice of freckled skin got even bigger, and even bigger, and even bigger.
       I felt a cold feeling in my stomach.  At first I thought I was scared, but I was probably just grossed out.  That little eighteen-year-old girl had the biggest bicep that I’ve ever seen in my life.  From where I was sitting, it even looked bigger than Arnold’s in Conan.  And that grossed me out because I like tall, skinny, blonde chicks with model features and small boobs like Angie, and Becky Finklestein is like totally the opposite of Angie.  But then all of a sudden the old farmer dude was all in my face, asking me what happened to my horseshoe.  I didn’t know what to say, but Becky answered for me.
       “Mishhhter Wentworth,” she called out, her arm now relaxed and laying on her desk.  “I saw him messing around with the pipe bender in the corner while you were showing us how to saddle Buttercup.”
       “No visitor privileges this weekend!” the old dude barked.
       That was bullshit.  Angie was coming in this weekend, and I was going to bang her out in the visitor cabin.  I already reserved it and told the guys that they could watch through the windows if they could scrape together a hundred bucks.  “No way!” I shouted.  “It was her.  Becky.  She bent it we she came into the barn!”
       “What the little girl with the glasses?” the old man said, and laughed, even though he wouldn’t be laughing if he had seen her over there hulking out of a hulk-sized sweatshirt.
       “Yeah, shhhtupid,” Becky jeered.  “I would have to be Supergirl or something to do that.”
       The old farmer dude laughed again and waved us away, but no one else was laughing.  The kids were all looking at me like they were scared.  I looked back to Becky as I stood up to leave, and she used her finger to trace an “S” in the air in front of her big stupid looking boobs.

       I ran out of the barn and back to the guy’s dorms because I wanted to use the phone in the dorm to call Angie.  I wasn’t scared or anything.  I smacked Joey on the head on my way over to the payphone, just to let him know who was in charge.  I put some quarters in the phone and started to dial. All I could think about was Angie, all tall and skinny with her thin lips and blue eyes.  Then I saw a tiny finger with pink nail polish press down on the handset switch, hanging up the phone.  I looked down and saw Becky Finklestein glaring up at me.  She looked pissed.  “You really messed up dipwad,” she said.  “You’re lucky I have federal judges watching my case, because the last person that messed my hair got all his ribshhh broken.  And he was wearing a bulletproof vest when I did it.”
       “Girls aren’t allowed in boys’ dorm,” I said.  And they weren’t.  If any of the counselors saw her in there she would be in trouble.  Not that it mattered, because I totally wasn’t afraid of her.
       “I’m only going to be here a second,” she said, sneering.
       With one lightning quick motion, Becky took the handset from me, and yanked it out of the pay phone.  The armored cord snapped like cooked spaghetti.  She held the handset up in front of me and squeezed her little freckled hand.  In an instant the handset shattered into a few pieces of plastic and metal, and fell to the ground.  “I can do that to your skull,” she said coolly.  “I’m going to take it easy on you this time because I don’t want to go to jail right now.  So instead of folding you in half, I’m just going to give you a pinkbelly.”
       “Bitch I dare you to even try,” I said.
       Becky’s hand darted out so fast that all I saw was a blur.  It felt like I got hit by a car.  The air went out of me and I dropped to my knees as she walked toward the door. 
       “Hey Becky you look pretty,” Tony stammered as she passed him.
       “I’m not going to show my boobs, Tony,” she said without breaking her stride.  “We have this talk every time we wind up at a home together.  And if anyone asks what happened to the phone, you wimpshhh better tell them that one of you did it.”
       I stayed on the floor a little while longer.  I pulled up my shirt, and a big dark bruise in the shape of a small handprint was already starting to appear in the middle of my six-pack.  “This was a cheap phone anyway,” I said once I regained my breath.  “I almost break that thing every time I use it.”

       I had trouble getting to sleep that night.  All I could think about was Becky Finklestein, her dumb glasses, and her huge bicep.  How big was it anyway?  Sometimes I thought it was only a little bit bigger than mine, but sometimes it seemed like it swelled up so big it reached up to the top of her head.  No matter how I remembered her, she looked huge.  And she looked pissed. 
I tried everything to get to sleep.  I knocked out a bunch of pushups and pullups, I snuck a smoke in the bathroom, and I even tried to wank it thinking about Angie and the way her pelvic bones and ribs feel when I’m rubbing up and down on her.  I had to talk to somebody, so I woke Kevin up. “Hey Kevin,” I whispered. “What is that Finklestein chick’s deal?”
       “Just do what she says,” he whispered back. “She’s been in more juvie homes than me and Tony put together, and no one can handle her.  Brenda said that they sent her to a scared straight program last year at the state pen, and she broke a convict’s jaw and almost killed two guards.  Jake said a judge had to force New Beginnings to take her in because when she was at Lake Peace three years ago she tore the doors off their van after the staff told her that she couldn’t go into town with them to get ice cream.”
       “Bullshit,” I said.  “Ain’t no fifteen-year-old girl tearing the doors off a van,” I said.  “I can barely do that.”  I felt like repeating that to myself so I did.  “Ain’t no fifteen-year-old girl tearing the doors off a van.  I can barely do that.”
       You can’t let someone get into your head, see.  I’ve been kicking dudes’ asses since I was 8, and I never really lost a fight because I never let anyone get into my head.  I’ve beat up guys bigger than me, bigger than Arnold and even guys bigger than Becky Finklestein.  Not that she’s all that big.  It was probably just that weird dim light in the barn that made her arm look all huge.  Also, I was pretty far away.
       When I finally got to sleep I had nightmares.  I was face to face with all four foot nothing of Becky Finklestein.  We were in front of like, a whole stadium.  Her hair and makeup were all done up and she actually looked kind of cute.  At least her face did.  The rest of her…  She was wearing a spandex superman costume and her muscles were bulging like crazy, like some sort of cartoon.  I don’t really remember too much.  At one point she was all wrapped up in chains, and she just laughed and flexed and the chains exploded off her muscles and flew everywhere.  Then later she was hitting bodybuilder poses while bullets bounced off her, and every time she squeezed a body part it got bigger and more cut, and she never took her eyes off me the whole time.  She just stood there gritting on me, pumping up, and every time she flexed it sounded like a cannon.  It was like “boom” when she hit a double bicep pose.  And then “boom” when she hit a side chest pose.  It was always this deep booming sound every time she squeezed out a flex, and her muscles pulled against each other and striated and shifted like they were too big for her body.  She hit a quad shake that bulged her leg out to the size of a pony keg, and the blue spandex started ripping apart, because she was too ripped for the Superman costume.  I could hear spandex stretching and tearing, and then Becky started laughing at me.  “You have to know by now that you could never hurt this body,” she giggled.  “I’m invincible.  I’m unshhhtoppable.”
       I realized I was dreaming when those disgustingly big titties started to spill out of a tear that was opening along her sternum, and then I woke up suddenly, covered in a cold sweat.  I could still hear Becky laughing when I woke up, and until my eyes readjusted to the light, I could see her eyes staring at me.  And she looked pissed.

[grbaclig]

Chapter 2 – Supergirl

       Nothing much happened on Tuesday.  I think we talked about our families.  Lunch was tacos, so that was cool.  I never saw any chicks, because boys and girls were separated on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but every once in a while I would think about Becky Finklestein in her Superman outfit, laughing at me.  She probably just had gym muscles though, like those bodybuilders who get all jacked curling 15 pound barbells.  It was probably just gym muscles, and a cheap old horseshoe and a cheap phone, because the New Beginnings center is kind of cheap.  Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about her sneering at me and blowing a bubble while she hulked out.  I needed to work out to clear my mind, so I waited until lights out and snuck out quick and snuck along the rear fence until I got the fitness center, which has lights on 24 hours a day for safety or whatever. 
       I opened the door slowly so it didn’t squeak, and let it close behind me.  I walked toward the weights and machines.  I guess they were cleaning or messing around, because there was just a ton of weight up on the bars, like four-fifty on the bench press.  I could totally bench four-fifty if I had to, but I normally warm up with something more like two hundred, so I started to unscrew the caps.  Then I heard someone clear their throat behind me.  “Don’t mess with my iron, you shhhkinny little punk.”
       It was Becky Finklestein, in a dark blue sweatsuit this time.  She had her hair in a tight ponytail and her freckled face was dotted with sweat, and she wasn’t wearing any glasses.  She pointed her giant rack up at me, and got close enough to me that I had to look straight down at her.  She didn’t look as angry as the last time I saw her, but she still didn’t look happy.  “You need to get the fuck out of here,” she said.  “I just finished warming up and I need all the weights in here to get my pump on.  You can go do aerobicshhh or whatever it is that little bitches like you do.”
I don’t like being disrespected, but I knew I had to keep my cool.  Just play it off.  Besides, now that I thought about it, I didn’t need to work out anyway.  I really only needed to come to the fitness center for one of the bottles of sports drink that they keep in the fridge. “I actually just came to grab a sports drink,” I said.
       Becky walked away, toward the squat rack.  “Good for you,” she said, “because this is my gym.  This is all me.”
       I grabbed a bottle of green sports drink from the fridge, and headed back toward the door.  “They’re just gym muscles anyway,” I muttered.  “You ain’t putting up four-fifty.”
       In a heartbeat, she was standing between me and the door, all four foot six of her.  And she looked pissed.  “What the fuck did you say?” she demanded.
       “Those are just gym muscles you got, right?”  I said.  “Ain’t no eighteen year old girl benching four-fifty.”
Becky was talking through clenched teeth, and her nostrils were flaring.  “Gym muscles?  Gym muscles!?  I am trying shhho hard not to beat the shit out of you, and you don’t even care!” she yelled in her chirpy little voice.  Her breath was getting deeper and louder, making those ridiculous tits float up and down underneath her sweatshirt like they were piston-driven. 
       She closed her eyes for like a second and spoke quietly to herself.  “I won’t kill him.  I can’t kill him now.  I can’t go to prison until I’m strong enough to bend bars and stop bullets.”  She made a little mantra out of the sentence and repeated it two more times, her breath calming as she did.  “I can’t go to prison until I’m strong enough to bend bars and stop bullets.   I can’t go to prison until I’m strong enough to bend bars and stop bullets.”
       “Hey I gotta get going” I said, because I was tired and didn’t really want to work out anymore.
       “No,” Becky said, holding up her finger and speaking slowly, and I could tell she was fighting to stay calm.  “No, what was that you said after you said I had… gym… muscles.”
       I was really tired, but I wasn’t about to back down from a junior high school girl, so I straight up told her.  “No eighteen year old girl can bench four-fifty.”
       Becky took a deep breath.  “Okay.  Fine,” she said, and pulled her sweatshirt off.
       She took two steps closer, stepping out of her sweatpants and shoes in one fluid motion.  I was looking down at the biggest tits I had ever seen in my life, easily bigger than volleyballs, flecked with freckles and crammed into a blue sports bra with some kind of red and yellow circle on the front of it.  And if the huge breasts weren’t gross enough, her muscles were ridiculously huge and ridiculously cut.  Even when she stood still, her muscles twitched and flexed, as if they were fighting for position on a body that wasn’t big enough to hold them.  She cocked her left leg out, making her calf bulge out like a football-sized diamond, and put her hand on her hips.  “Maybe no eighteen year old girl can bench press four hundred and fifty pounds, but this eighteen year old young woman normally warms up with four hundred and fifty pounds.”
       Then she clapped her tiny, girly hands together, and slowly straightened her arms.  Her shoulders and triceps swelled and throbbed as she spoke. “I started developing faster than the other girls,” she said, her pectorals rising up off her chest and rippling like bricks falling out of a dump truck, deforming her sports bra and forcing her huge jugs to strain against the blue top.  Whatever that red and yellow thing in the middle of her sports bra was, it was stretching out even further.  This was all totally gross.  “My doctor told me that I was too young to have breast reduction surgery, and suggested that I start lifting weightshhh to build muscle and burn fat.  So I did.”
       She twisted her wrists real slow, and her pectorals swelled against each other, pushing out further and further from her chest and developing more and more striations.  “My muscles kept growing, but so did my boobs,” she said, glancing down at the valley of pecs and cleavage that strained so hard against her top that the straps were vibrating with tension.  “So I kept lifting more weight and my boobs kept getting bigger.  So I kept lifting more weight and my boobs kept getting bigger.  So I kept lifting more weight and my boobs kept getting bigger.”  Each time she repeated those words her pecs swelled up a little bit more, pushing up so high that you could barely see her collarbones.
       Finally Becky let her arms hang down, thank God.  The combination of huge tits, huge muscles, and red hair was grossing me out so bad I was shaking and my mouth was dry.  “Hey I gotta get going” I said. My voice cracked for some reason.  Maybe I was thirsty.
       “No!” Becky shouted angrily, pointing at me with her green eyes burning.  “No you stay right there until I’m done with you, you shhhkinny little bitch.”
       I stopped dead.  I had to play it cool.  After all, I didn’t want to get in trouble for beating up a little girl, even a little girl as big as Becky Finklestein.  Becky did that bitchy little smirk as she slowly began to curl her arms up into a double biceps pose, and she never blinked as she stared at me and spoke.  “I was benching four-fifty when I was twelve.”
       Her biceps were huge, cut into a split head and perfectly peaked.  They were bigger than they looked in the barn.  They were bigger than mine, bigger than Arnold in Conan, bigger than any other biceps in history.  She raised her elbows up to spread her lats out, and her biceps struggled against the gigantic bulges of mass in her forearms and shoulders, while her lats and delts erupted into chiseled curves of muscle.  She tensed her core and eight perfect bulges of abdominal muscle flared up two at a time, starting at her sternum and moving down toward her waistline like a waterfall of muscle.  Her ribs and side abdominals flared to life around her tiny waist as the wave of muscle rolled downward toward her blue workout trunks.  Her trunks were stretched so tight over her waist and hips that they looked like a thong.  I couldn’t believe it.  It was like someone stuffed the muscles of a 6 foot tall bodybuilder into a four and a half foot tall girl.  That four and a half foot tall girl seemed bigger than me now.  Like every time she squeezed her fists, her arms got a little bit bigger, and I felt a little bit smaller. 
       Becky laughed, and I realized that I had lost track of time.  She was halfway over to the bench press when I collected myself.  “But you already know how strong my arms are,” she said.  “You were calling me out on my cheshhht.  Probably just as an excuse to look at my boobs.”
I scoffed.  You can’t let someone get into your head, see.  “I don’t like big cans,” I said, going for the picture of Angie that I keep in my cigarette case.  “They’re gross.  Check out my girlfriend.  Perfect little titties, thin lips, blonde hair...  She’s coming to see me on Friday if I can get that old farmer douchebag to go back on what he said earlier-”
       “All guys like big boobs,” Becky interrupted, folding her arms behind her head.  She cocked her right leg, causing her hamstring and quads to ripple and swell up and swallow part of her workout trunks in their bulging mass.  Then, while standing motionless, she flexed her pecs, making her huge breasts jump as the ridges of pectoral muscle sprang to life on her chest and pulled them upwards.  Then she relaxed, and her bosom fell back down.  Her cans were so big that when they fell they made a “boom” sound I could hear from across the gym.  Then she flexed again, and relaxed again.  And flexed again and relaxed again.  Boom. Boom. Boom.
       The sound of her hooters slamming against her ribcage echoed in my brain.  That’s when I realized what the symbol on her sports bra was.  It was a red and yellow ‘S’ like on Superman’s costume, but I could barely recognize it because it was all stretched out by her jugs.  It was like my nightmare was coming true.   I was standing there with Becky Finklestein, while she wore a Superman costume and flexed up impossibly big muscles.  But at least her muscles aren’t as big as in my nightmare.  Were they?  I was so grossed out by it all that my mouth was dry and I felt like I was asleep.  I woke up when Becky yelled “Hey.”
       She was right in front of me now, holding my picture of Angie.  I guess I dropped it.  “Your girlfriend is pretty,” she said.  “You say she’s coming on Friday if Mishhhter Wentworth will let her?”
       I tried to snatch the picture back, but Becky was too quick and pulled it toward her with a flick of her wrist.  “Hey I gotta get going” I said, but my mouth was so dry I hardly made a sound.
       “No!”  Becky screamed, and she stomped so hard I swear I felt the fitness center shake under my feet.  “Why the hell do you think you can just come and go as you please without my permission!?  I am the queen of your whole goddamned universe whether you like it or not!”
       She was pissed, but she took a deep breath, and another, and her tits swelled up so much I could see the pink of her areolas peek out from her top. Then she opened her eyes and blew a pink bubble until it popped, and she licked the flaps of gum off of her big fat lips.  Didn’t she know you weren’t supposed to chew gum with a retainer in?
       “I have two things to deal with before you run back to your dorm and play grab-ass with the other sissies,” she said.  “First, from now on, when I ask for cookieshhh you give me your cookie.  And second…”  Becky paused as she slowly raised her left arm.  She cocked her forearm, and even that tiny bit of movement made her muscles ripple.  “I’m going to slap you, but I’m just going to give you a little slap, because you’re just a little bitch.  I won’t even use my shoulder or bicep.”
       “Bitch I dare you to even try,” I said, and then everything went black. 

[fp909]

This is amazing! I can't wait to read on!

[snowman7]

Wow!  This is quite a different perspective from most FMG stories, and I like it.  Look forward to more.

[weaponzero]

Wow.  Hoping to see more ASAP.  This is really good stuff.

[grbaclig]

Chapter 3 – Playing Doctor

       The next thing I knew, I was looking at the hottest blonde milf that I had ever seen in my life.  She was all slender and had on a white lab coat, unbuttoned to show a red blouse and a little bit of cleavage.  She wore wire-framed glasses and bright red lipstick, and she had long, fingernails painted the same red as her lipstick.  I was pretty sleepy, and I didn’t know where I was, but I was ready to get down to business. 
“Hey baby,” I started to say, but then I stopped.  The right side of my face hurt like hell and I couldn’t talk right. 
       “Don’t try to talk, Stephen,” the babe in the glasses said.  “I’m Doctor Allen, the staff physician here at New Beginnings, and you’ve been kicked in the face by a horse.  Do you remember that?”
       “No, that ain’t how it happened at all,” I mumbled through my half closed mouth.  “It was Becky Finklestein.  She ain’t all that though, she was just lucky.”
       “Yes, we already talked to Becky, and she told us everything,” the doctor said.  “She told us about how she tricked you into running the horseshoe through the pipe bender, how you wanted to go back into the barn and fix the horseshoe, and how Buttercup kicked you.”  I was legit confused, but this chick was so hot I didn’t want to tell her to shut up.  “You’ve spent the better part of Wednesday and here in the doctor’s office,” she said as she scribbled on a clipboard.  “For what it’s worth, Mr. Wentworth appreciated the contrition you showed in sneaking into the barn.  He didn’t want to reinstate your visitor privileges, but Becky convinced him that you’re serious about your rehabilitation, and he agreed to let your girlfriend stay at the guest cabin on Friday.”
       “That’s cool,” I said.  I was starting to get back some feeling in my face, so it was time to make my move on this hot-ass doctor.  I put my arms behind my head and flexed, trying to seem all casual.  No bimbo can resist a free ticket to the gun show.  “But you know, sometimes I think I need a more mature woman-“
       “No, Stephen,” the doctor said.  “You have a very impressive physique, but I’m happily married and you and I are… very different people.”
       “I have a sweet-ass Firebird.”
       “I’ve been propositioned by more than a few residents, Stephen, and my answer is always the same.”
       “What is that answer?”
       “The answer is no, Stephen.”
It was time to break out the big guns.  “But I can freak you right,” I told her.  “I took a class on sexual power and energy at a the learning annex, and they showed me how to-”
       “No, Stephen.  No,” she said, getting all frigid.  “I appreciate that you find me attractive, but I don’t believe in ‘sexual power and energy’, and even if I did no resident would have enough of it to make me violate my professional standards.  And besides you need to take it easy.Because you were kicked in the face by a horse.  Remember?”
       “No, I never went into the barn.  Becky Finklestein sucker punched me.  I ain’tgonna press charges though, because she’s just a kid.”
       “So you’re saying that Becky hit you instead of Buttercup?”
       “Slapped me actually, which is why I didn’t go loco on her, because it was just a lucky slap and I didn’t want things to get real like they would have if she had punched me.”
       “So you’re saying a four foot tall teenaged girl slapped you hard enough to fracture your orbital bone, dislodge five teeth, and knock you unconscious for 18 hours?”
       “She super jacked, doc.  She wears those sweatsuits to hide her muscles… But she ain’t all that though.  It was a lucky shot.”
       Doctor Allen sighed.  “Stephen, this is utterly ridiculous, but if you’re accusing another resident of assault, we are obligated to take you seriously.  Since I am the only licensed counselor on duty today, I’ll speak with Becky about this.”
       I went back to the dorm and checked myself out in the mirror for a few minutes.  My face was messed up, so I knocked out a half hour of pushups and pullups to take my mind off the pain.  Angie digs my muscles not my face, anyway, so that was probably for the best.  When I stood up to go to the showers, I looked out the window and saw Becky Finklestein walking to the medical building, wearing a white sweatsuit, a scrunchy around her wrist, and with her hair all messy.  I ran out and sneaked around the back of the medical building so that I could watch through the window into the doctor’s office.  It was all trees and woods on that side of the building, and nobody went back there because it was such a mess, so they just left the blinds open.  I crawled through some slimy stuff and hid behind an old log to see what was going to happen. 
       I stared at Doctor Allen’s butt as she opened the door to her office to let Becky in. The windows were so thin I could hear them talk because the New Beginnings center is kind of cheap.
       “Becky, I’m going to get right to the point,” Doctor Allen said.  “There have been allegations that you have assaulted another resident.”
       “That’s not true Doctor Allen,” she said trying to sound all sweet and innocent.  “I’ve had problemshhh with violence in the past, but I’m working on that.”
       The doctor took her glasses off and licked her pen.  Damn that was hot.  “Becky, I had a quick word with some of our residents, and they said that you have exhibited a pattern of bullying behavior, most recently toward Stephen.”
       “That’s silly, Doctor Allen,” Becky said. “Stephen is huge.  How could I bully him?”
       The doctor picked up her clipboard.  “This is a bit unusual, Becky, but could you remove your sweatsuit?  If you don’t feel comfortable doing that, just roll up your sleeve.”
       “No, I’ll take it all off, if that’s what you want,” Becky said, moving around so her back was to the window that I was looking through.
She unzipped her sweatshirt and pulled it off, peeling it back over her volleyball sized shoulders and letting it fall to the ground.  Then she stepped out of her sweatpants and flip flops.  Every time Becky moved, Doctor Allen’s eyes opened a little bit wider and her jaw dropped a little bit more.  And she couldn’t even see Becky’s back.  For real, from behind that girl looked like someone took a miniature blow up sex doll and stuffed it full of bricks and rocks until they were packed in there so tight you could see the outline of each one.  It was the most ripped back I had ever seen.  She had on some kind of white bra that was stretched so tight that the straps hugged the lumps of her back muscles.  She was wearing white granny panties with little hearts on them, but they looked like a thong because they were swallowed by her glutes, which were the size of soccer balls, and dotted with orange freckles.  Her thighs looked bigger around than her little waist, and all the muscles stood out like they were carved out of stone.  Her quads and hamstrings bulged against each other and tapered down to her knees, and then she had these calves that looked like two masonry bricks smashed together under her skin.  Her ankles were kind of skinny and feminine though, more like a normal girl than the rest of her lower body, and her feet were tiny just like her hands.  How could she carry all those muscles on those little feet? 
       And was it just me or was she bigger?  On Monday, I wondered how she could fill up a sweatsuit with her muscles, but today I was wondering how she could fit all that bulk inside her clothes.
       “Let me tie my hair up,” Becky said, taking the scrunchy from her wrist.  Then, as Doctor Allen’s lips started to tremble, Becky slowly raised her arms behind her head to tie up her hair, squeezing out a double bicep flex.  Her arms looked even bigger from behind.  Her shoulders and lats swelled up so big I could barely see around her, but she was so short that I could still over her head.  Doctor Allen’s eyes were wide and her mouth hung open, and she was starting to blush.  “Is thishhh what you wanted to see?” Becky asked.
       Doctor Allen was frozen in place, except that her free hand began to move toward Becky’s arm, like she wasn’t even controlling it.  It trembled as she cupped Becky’s right bicep.  I could see Doctor Allen breathing heavy.  “Oh my God,” she squeaked.
       Becky let the doctor squeeze and rub her arm for a minute or two, then she uncurled her thin little fingers, and stroked the back of the older woman's hand, all without easing up on her flex.  Doctor Allen snapped to attention and pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry Becky,” she said, trying not to stare at the teen-aged muscle girl as she scribbled something on her clipboard.  She was blushing.  “It's just that you’re an incredible physical specimen, and my medical curiosity got the better of me.”
       “That’s what the other doctors always say,” Becky said, bringing her arms down.  She put her hands on her hips and started a lat spread that never seemed to stop.  “I started developing faster than the other girls…” she said.  I heard this story the other night, but it didn’t look like Doctor Allen was hearing anything at all.  She just stood there staring, moving her pen all randomly around the clipboard like she forgot how to write.  But Becky kept talking anyway, and her lats spread out wider and wider until they took got so wide I couldn't see them through the window.  “My doctor told me that I was too young to have breast reduction surgery, and suggested that I start lifting weightshhh to build muscle and burn fat.  So I did.  My muscles kept growing, but so did my boobs,”
       Becky relaxed her lat spread and shifted her hips, making her glutes bulge and flex in ways that no white girl’s butt should be able to move.  Her ass was actually kind of hot, despite the rest of her.  She arched her back and lifted her tits up so that she could show Doctor Allen her abs.  Even from behind, I could see her little hands being swallowed up into the sheer white fabric that covered her jugs.  And now that those jugs weren’t trapped in a sports bra they looked as big as soccer balls.  Gross.  “What do you think of these?” Becky asked, as she arched her back.  Doctor Allen stopped moving completely, and her eyes glazed over.  Drops of sweat were forming on her forehead.  “You can touch them if you want,” Becky offered.
       The doctor set her clipboard and pen down, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Becky, so she missed the desk and they clattered to the floor.  She ignored the sound as she dug her hands into Becky’s bra, squeezing those big freckled cans.  It was like she was hypnotized by Becky’s body.  I couldn’t believe it.  That bitch wouldn’t even give me the time of day, and she was all weak over that Finklestein girl.  Becky giggled.  “I was actually talking about my abs,” she said. 
       Doctor Allen looked like she just woke up, and she looked embarrassed.  She pulled her hands out of Becky’s bra, pulled her own blouse tight and turned away.  “I’m sorry Becky,” she stammered.  “That was very unprofessional.  I really don’t know what came over me.”
       Becky relaxed her core, dropped her boobs, and gently ran her little index finger up and down the back of Doctor Allen’s white lab coat, tracing a line from the shoulder to the ass and back again.  “You don’t have to apologize,” she told the doctor.  With each stroke of Becky’s finger, Doctor Allen seemed to relax.  “It’s your job to touch your patientshhh.”
       “Thank you for being so understanding, Becky,” the doctor said as she turned around. She had a streak of dried tear down one cheek.  “I think we’re about done here, Becky.  I have some… paperwork to do.”
       “I was actually hoping that you could look at something for me,” Becky said.  “It’s kind of a girl thing.”
       “Certainly, Becky,” the doctor said, straightening up.  “This can be a difficult age for young women.  What may I help you with?”
       Becky raised her right leg and planted her foot on Doctor Allen’s desk, like she was Captain Morgan doing yoga or something.  That made her thighs and glutes bulge and bunch up like crazy.  It seemed impossible that she could be that flexible with that much muscle on her, but I was seeing it with my own eyes.  And so was the doctor.  Then Becky held up her left hand, flexing her massive bicep for just a second before she used her index finger down to pull down the front of her panties.  Instantly, Doctor Allen’s lips puckered and began trembling.  “Doctor, I always hear that women with big muscles have really big clitshhh, and I don’t want that to happen to me.  I don’t think my clit is big, but I’m not a doctor.  Does my vagina look okay to you?”
Doctor Allen was bright red and shaking.  “Yes, Becky,” she said dreamily, “it’s…. beautiful… perfect.”
       I couldn’t believe this.  Eighteen years old, four and half feet tall, and she had this sophisticated milf just drooling over her.  All of a sudden the doctor collapsed and threw herself at Becky, rubbing her hands all over Becky’s gigantic muscles and rubbing her face in Becky’s monstrous tits.  The teenage behemoth grabbed the doctor by the elbows and held her at arms’ length.  Doctor Allen was crying.  “Please, Becky,” she begged.        “Please take me.  It doesn’t even have to be sex.  Just let me smell your pussy or kiss your muscles.  Just for a minute Becky, please!”
       “Shhhlow down,” Becky said playfully, and Doctor Allen relaxed a little, gulping and panting as she fought to keep control of herself.  Becky released Doctor Allen’s left arm, and used her free hand to put a loose lock of hair behind the doctor’s ear.  The older woman blushed and looked down.  Then Becky wiped a tear from the doctor’s cheek, and ran her finger down the front of the red blouse, where she kept it perched on the doctor’s nipple, tapping it rhythmically against the red fabric.  Doctor Allen was trembling.
       “Please Becky” she sobbed.  “I’ll do anything if you let me feel you, let me taste you.  I’ll give you money.  I’ll leave my husband…”
       “You don’t have to do all that,” Becky said gently.  She flexed her left arm again, and the doctor froze in place, like she was a trained dog and Becky’s massive bicep was a whistle.  “I’ll make a deal with you,” Becky purred.  “If you give me your credit card and tell a couple of lies for me, you can lick me three times.  Anywhere on my body you want, and a lick can last as long as you can keep your tongue on my shhhkin.”
       “Oh God yes,” Doctor Allen breathed.  “Anything.  I’ll say anything to anyone.  I’ll let you buy anything.”
       “It’s a pretty good deal for you, because if you’re good at licking, we can be in here a long time.”
       “Oh God yes Becky. Oh please yes.”
       “Who knows?  If you’re really good at licking, I might even let you lick me a fourth time, or even a fifth.”
       Doctor Allen was so horny she was shaking, but she wasn’t moving.  It’s like she was waiting for Becky’s permission to get off.  “Will you lick me as well, Becky?” she begged.
       Becky laughed as she stepped back, turning her profile toward the window a bit.  I could see her pecs bulging out like no one’s pecs should be able to bulge, and of course I could see her giant knockers stretching that white bra like crazy.  “One thing at a time,” she told the doctor.  “I’m going to count down from three, and when I say ‘go’ you may start licking.”
       When she heard that, Doctor Allen tore her lab coat and blouse off, sending buttons flying.  “Three,” said Becky, as she unhooked her bra, letting her breasts spill out, her pink nipples standing at attention.
       Doctor Allen tore her own bra off like some kind of wild animal.  Her boobs were a little bigger than I like, but they were nice, considering she was thirty or forty or whatever.  She was tearing at her skirt and panties like she forgot how to take them off normally.  “Two,” Becky said as she ripped her granny panties off in one quick flick of her wrist.
       Doctor Allen was almost naked know, in just pantyhose, high heels and a string of pearls.  Her blonde pubic hair was dripping wet as she kicked her shoes off. “One,” Becky said, planting her feet on the floor and putting her hands on her hips.
Doctor Allen was rubbing her clit and biting her lip as Becky paused the countdown, just to tease her admirer.  That bitchy smirk crept across her face again.  “Go,” she said, and the milf threw herself at the teenager.
       The doctor wrapped herself around Becky’s right arm.  Becky responded by flexing her massive bicep. The older woman was draped over the monstrous muscles, and she began licking at the bicep head, careful not to let her tongue lose contact with Becky’s white, freckled flesh.  She licked circles around the bicep and shoulder, gently kissing as she went, while Becky giggled.  Then she led her tongue down Becky’s shoulder across her collarbone and onto the massive slab of pectoral muscle above Becky’s right breast.  Becky responded by closing her arms around the doctor and flexing her chest.  Doctor Allen moaned with desire as she worked her tongue along the undulating striations of the pectoral muscle, until she got to Becky’s breast.  She held it in both hands, barely able to lift its weight, as she licked her way down to the nipple, where she lost control, and began sucking. Becky pushed her away.  “That’s one,” she said.  “You’re a good licker, though.”
       Doctor Allen stood up and looked Becky over a she planned her next move, playing with herself the whole the time, like her fingers had minds of their own.  Becky laughed, but not in that little giggling way she normally did.  This time is was a nasty cackle like a cartoon witch.  The doctor was starting to lose control, and she threw herself at Becky’s stomach, bouncing off the rock hard, freckle dotted abs, and sliding her face into Becky’s sex.  I could hear the slurping through the window.  Becky didn’t move, though.  She just stood their smirking.  Every so often one of her gigantic muscles would twitch, and if that muscle was one of her pecs it made her boob jiggle and bounce like a balloon full of jelly.  After a minute, Becky yawned.  Then she grabbed Doctor Allen by her hair and pulled her back up to her feet.  Ten minutes ago that doctor was shutting me down like I was a little boy proposing to his babysitter, now she was waggling her tongue and waving her arms like a starving animal, lusting for this over-developed eighteen year old  girl.  “Please Becky please,” she begged.   “The taste… the smell… the muscles.  I have to have your body.  It’s all I want.  It’s all I want in this world.  Please let me pleasure you.  Please let me worship you.”
       “I don’t know…” Becky mused playfully, “I think I already did you a big favor by letting you lick me more than three times,” Becky said.  “But I’m feeling generous, so I guesshhh I can give you a lick in return.”
       Doctor Allen squealed with delight at that suggestion, and wildly rubbed her tits, her mouth and her pussy. Becky kept the blonde hair knotted up in one hand, and removed her retainer with the other.  “Stop,” she said, and the older woman obeyed, dropping to her knees even though Becky was still holding her hair.
        The doctor winced and teared up a little bit as her hair pulled, but her lips and her labia were so full and twitchy that I don’t think she was feeling anything other than pleasure.  I don’t know what Becky was doing to this woman, but I needed to take notes.Becky grabbed the doctor by the waist and lifted her up like a rag doll, flopping those toned milfy legs over her own enormous shoulders.  Her voice was muffled by the doctor’s dripping wet bush, but I could still hear her.  “I’m going to lick you twice,” she said.
       I could hear the first lick.  It lasted forever.  Doctor Allen’s legs shot out straight, and her back jerked into a crooked shape and her head thrashed around.  She screamed, and laughed and cried all at the same time, and her fingers clenched and her toes curled.  I could see her squirt all over Becky, and then she went limp.  “No one ever makes it to lick number two,” Becky sighed, carrying the doctor over to the examining table and laying her down.
       That milf was ruined.  She was breathing heavy, dripping with sweat and tossing back and forth on the table.  Becky went over to the sink, and washed her glasses off.  She looked at all the sex liquid dripping down her chest, ran her finger through it and licked it.  “You taste good, Doctor Allen,” she said as she flexed her arms and examined her biceps in the mirror.  “I swear I think pussy juice makes me bigger.  It’s what I have instead of steroids.”  And maybe she was right, because she looked bigger now than she did a few minutes ago.  Her arms must have been twenty seven inches around, on a girl who only stood fifty four inches tall.
       Becky picked her sweatsuit up and started getting dressed, like she didn’t even care that she was dripping in milf juice.  “Before I go you need to clean the gum out of my retainer,” she told Doctor Allen, and like a shot the older woman was up at the sink, stark naked except for pearls and pantyhose, picking gum out of Becky’s retainer with her bright red fingernails, her sex still dripping and her knees still trembling.
       Becky put on her sweatpants, but before she put on her sweatshirt, she walked over to the window.  Oh God, she saw me.  How long has she known I was here?  Her gigantic knockers were pressed up against the window, and she fixed her green eyes on me.  Then she smirked.  She took a wallet-sized photo out of her sweatpants and licked it, making a big production out of getting off on it.  Then she flipped it around so I could see.  It was the picture of Angie that she took from me on Tuesday.  Then she put her arms over her head and flexed her chest.  Her tits pushed harder and harder against the window, flattening out into size of dinner plates.  Then finally the window smashed into a thousand tiny shards, and Becky’s bust flopped out into the afternoon air.  She stood there, pointing her big, firm, jiggly melons at me and staring me down.  I saw and a trickle of blood running down from the nipple of her right tit.  If having her nipple cut hurt her, she didn’t let on.  She just wiped up the blood off with her finger, licked it, and blew a bubble that was pink streaked with red.  And she looked pissed.

[slim0926]

  man hands down greatest fmg story ever, karma given and i Cant wait for the rest!!

[grbaclig]

Chapter 4 – Crazy Body, Crazy Mind

   I didn’t know what to do on Thursday.  I just laid there staring at the bunk above me.  All I could think about was Becky Finklestein.  If I saw one of the guys eating, I thought about her eating Doctor Allen’s pussy and about how good she was at it.  If I saw a horse ride by, I thought about how she lied to everyone about how I got kicked by a horse, and how everyone was fooled.  If I saw my muscles in a mirror, I thought about how much bigger her muscles were.  Could she really steal Angie away?  Angie loved muscles.  That was legit true.  Before I moved to Iowa she was dating Ray Dower, who was the biggest guy in town.  Then I stole her away from Ray Dower in like the first week I showed up.  All of a sudden Kevin was in my face.  “The library opens today!”  he said.  “Hurry up!”
   I pushed him away.  “Why are you so excited to get to the library?” I asked. “Books are for sissies.”
   “You’ll see,” he said.  “Hurry up.”
   The library was the only actual building at the New Beginnings center.  It has a second floor and a basement and everything. Nobody really paid attention to the tour, though, because of Miss Nakamura.  She was like a porn star dressed as a stripper whose act was pretending to be a librarian.  She had long legs covered with black stockings, a short black skirt that hugged the biggest ass I’ve ever seen on a skinny girl, and a tight low-cut black sweater stretched over the biggest boobs I’ve ever seen.  Well, the second biggest boobs I’ve ever seen, next to Becky Finklestein’s.
   Miss Nakamura swayed back and forth when she walked, and every move she made caused her tits to jiggle.  Maybe big boobs aren’t always gross, at least hers wouldn’t be all freckly like Becky’s are.  “This concludes our tour of the library,” Miss Nakamura said, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder.  “If you need anything, please let me know.”
   Hands shot up.  “Miss Nakamura, can I get a copy of one of those maps on the top shelf?” Joey asked.
   She nodded and wheeled a wooden ladder over to one of the shelves against the wall.  She climbed the ladder slowly, and all the dudes craned their necks as she climbed higher.  And then I saw why.  Miss Nakamura wasn’t wearing any panties, and her pubes were trimmed so low that you could see the frills of her labia shuffle as she climbed the ladder.  Her ass was perfectly toned without a hint of cellulite, and so round that the straps that held up her stockings curled up and out of sight over her thighs.  She was smiling when she came back down with a big book of maps.  “Here is your Atlas, Joey,” she said.  Joey was smiling, too.
   “Could I get one of the old army books down under the cabinets?”  Tony asked.
   “Certainly,” Miss Nakamura said, sashaying off to the cabinets a few feet away.  She turned toward us and bent over slowly.  Her pale white skin was on display as her huge breasts flopped forward, threatening to spill out of her top.  She hunted around, swinging her jugs back and forth as she did.  I thought that Tony was going to hyperventilate.  When she stood up, she had cleavage bursting out of her neckline, so she casually stuffed her gigantic knockers back inside her top.  She smiled.  “I’m sorry Tony, but all of our military history books were checked out earlier today during the girls’ tour, but I believe the young woman who checked them out is still in the library reading them.” 
   Tony didn’t care.  The alarm rang marking 10 o'clock, which was supposed to be when the days' session started. “Play time is over, kids,” Miss Nakamura said with a wink.  “Now go try to learn something.  I’ll be happy to help you with any big words or complicated ideas as long as you are genuinely interested in learning.”
   The rest of the kids ran off to grab books off the shelves, but I went right to that little Asian minx to let her know I was picking up what she was putting out.  I decided to get right to the point. “You got some serious curves for a Chinese girl,” I said.
   “I’m Japanese,” she said, “but only in the genetic sense.  I was born in Wisconsin, which makes me as American as you.”
   “Japanese?  Well that’s great, because I love eating raw tuna.” That was like the best line I ever had.
   “Racist and sexist?  You are a charmer aren’t you,” she said, going over to a stack of books and scanning them with a little light gun.  “I’m sorry, but I’m only interested in getting troubled children to learn, even if I have to trick them into doing it with my… assets.  And I’m afraid it’s a little late for you to turn your act around.”
   I went around to the other side of the desk.  “Look,” I said, “I saw what you were doing there, and no chick shows off the goods like that unless she wants to sell.”
   “You’re wrong again,” Miss Nakamura said.  “I’m an exhibitionist.  And a virgin.”
   “What?”
   “An exhibitionist is someone who enjoys presenting their sexuality in public.  I trust you know what a virgin is.” 
   “No one that looks like you is a virgin,” I said, giving her a dirty look.
   “I hear that every year,” she sighed.  “But believe it or not, I’m saving myself for someone special, and there’s no one in this home for lost causes that’s going to sweep me off my feet.  Especially not one of the lost causes.”
   I could take a hint.  Besides, I didn’t really like dark hair or big breasts anyway. Oh, and Angie was coming in tomorrow.  I walked around the library for a little while, looking for someone to shake down for a pop, but I wound up wandering around and looking at book titles.  All of a sudden    I heard a voice behind me.  “Those are books for elementary school kids.  I don't think you’re ready for something that shophishhhticated.”
   Becky Finklestein was sitting at a table behind a stack of books, wearing a bright green track suit with her hair up in pigtails.  The track suit was way too big for her or anyone else probably, but now that I had seen her body, I could detect the bulge of her shoulders under the nylon.  I decided to take the high road.  She was probably intimidated by me, so I tried to be nice and make friends.  “Are you reading some kind of weightlifting book?” I asked.
   “As you may recall, I already know how to pump iron,” she said.  “I’m here because I try to read a book every week.  It gives me something to keep my mind active when I’m working out.”
   I saw Miss Nakamura roll the book cart down the aisle behind Becky.   Becky kept talking.  “Right now I’m reading about military shhhtrategy.  This big book is Machiavelli’s Discourses on Livy.  It’s about how once you’ve gotten powerful by force, you have to be smart and manipulate people.  And if you’re smart, you can be really, really, really powerful.”  Each time she said the word ‘really’ she flexed her shoulders and traps, and it looked like she was going to hulk out of her clothes right there.
   All of a sudden, Tony ran up.  “What are you reading, Becky?” he asked.  She rolled her eyes.  “Wow Becky, that green makes jacket makes your boobs look—I mean… it makes your freckles look really pretty.”
   Becky was getting ready to put him in his place when she saw Miss Nakamura out of the corner of her eye.  “Excuse me losers,” she said.
   I smacked Tony, and he ran off, but I followed Becky, staying a few yards behind.  She sauntered up to Miss Nakamura, and I watched them from behind another row of shelves.  “Your eye shadow is very pretty, Misshhh Nakamura, it brings out your eyes.”  She pushed her glasses up on her nose, putting on her innocent act.  “What sorts of books are these?”
   “Thank you Becky, that’s very kind of you,” the librarian said.  “And these books here are books on magic tricks. I’m not sure why they’re so popular, but they certainly are.”
   “I know a magic trick.  I can make a muscle appear out of nowhere,” Becky said, turning her head coyly and trying to seem shy.
   “Well let’s see it, Becky,” Miss Nakamura said like she was talking to a kid.  I can’t believe she was falling for this 'timid schoolgirl' routine.Total virgin, gullible as hell.
   “I’m embarrasshhhed for you to see it, but you can feel it if you want,” Becky said, guiding the curvy librarian’s hand to her bicep.  “Now count to three.”
   As Miss Nakamura began to count, Becky began to flex her arm.  The librarian’s eyes widened as her fingers were spread further and further apart by the growing muscle throbbing under the shimmering green track suit.  She was so surprised that she slowed her counting, and gulped.  When she got to three, Becky stopped, and even though her arm wasn’t even at a ninety degree angle, it looked huge. “Oh my goodness,” Miss Nakamura said.  “That certainly is a big bicep.”
   But she didn’t know the half of it, because Becky wasn’t even really flexing.  “I can do a levitation trick, too,” Becky said.
   “Are you going to levitate yourself,” the librarian asked, still talking to Becky like she was just another school kid with freckles and glasses.
   “Kind of.  Just stand right there.”
   Becky positioned herself directly across from Miss Nakamura and clasped her hands together.  She began flexing her pectoral muscles, but slowly, and her mammoth funbags rose up until they were directly under Miss Nakamura’s own titanic bosom, lifting it slightly up and forcing a valley of cleavage through the plunging neckline of the sweater.  The librarian giggled awkwardly.  “Okay, that trick’s a little weird.”
   “I’m not done yet,” Becky said, and began to flex harder.  Her gigantic boobs jumped up and down, jiggling the soft flesh Miss Nakamura’s bust until her breasts began to shake loose from the confines of the tight black sweater.  Miss Nakamura laughed despite herself, and Becky stopped flexing.  I don’t like big tits, but I have to admit that was pretty hot.
   “That was… impressive,” Miss Nakamura said, squeezing her cans back into her sweater.
   “I thought you would like it, being an exhibitionist and all,” Becky said.  “I just read about that in The Velvet Underground.”
   “That’s a very… adult book for a girl your age,” Miss Nakamura said, blushing a bit.
   “I have a voracious appetite... and not just for books," Becky said tracing her fingertips along the bookshelves until they came to rest on the curvaceous librarian’s hip.  “I’m also a great admirer of the Hellenistic ideal of a strong body and a strong mind working in unison.  I prefer Arishhhtotle’s expression of the concept through the golden mean, even though I traditionally think of him as an ethicist, despite the breadth of this work.”
   I didn’t know what that meant, but I guess the librarian did, because she looked impressed.  “Well you certainly have a strong body...” she paused and Becky began to swirl her finger around on the Japanese woman’s bountiful thigh.  “Becky, can you teach me to do that... bouncing trick?  It might help me get through to a few more boys.”
   Becky giggled.  “Oh I think you’re getting through to them.  Besides, you’ll have to pump some serious iron, if you want to make those knockershhh bounce.  Your boobs are almost as big as mine.” With that, Becky unzipped her track suit a few inches.  “See how much muscle you need to do a pec pop with a giant rack?”
   “Wow,” Miss Nakamura said absently as she stared into the track suit, her eyes glazing over just like Doctor Allen’s did yesterday.  “The development in your pectoralis major muscles is… incredible.”
   “Put your hand between my pecs,” Becky said.  “I want to show you another trick.”  Without thinking, Miss Nakamura obeyed and gently put her delicate hand inside the track suit.  From where I was standing, I could only see Becky’s profile.  I could really only see Miss Nakamura’s hand disappear behind the green folds of the track jacket, but I could tell where her hand was because she had a little sparkly bracelet on her wrist that dangled on the front of the green nylon jacket.  Becky clasped her arms together again and flexed.  Miss Nakamura’s mouth sagged open.  Even from a profile view, I could see Becky’s pecs rising out of the opening on the jacket, swelling around Miss Nakamura’s wrist.  By the time she stopped, only a tiny hint of the bracelet was visible.  “Try to move your hand,” Becky said.
   Miss Nakamura pulled once, then again, but her hand was trapped in the valley of muscle on Becky’s bulging chest.  “Wow,” she said again.  She had a look of fascination in her eyes as she placed her other hand against Becky’s right pec to brace herself.  She pushed with one hand and pulled with the other, but to no avail. 
   Becky popped a bubble.  “Push harder, Miss Nakamura,” she said as she looked admiringly down at her own titanic musculature.  “You can put your foot against my thigh if you want.  It’s hard as a rock.”
   Miss Nakamura did as she was told.  She planted a foot against Becky’s left thigh, and repositioned her free hand on Becky’s chest.  The teenager’s pectorals were so large and so defined that the librarian could grab ahold of the massive slab of muscle like she was grasping a handhold while climbing a mountain.  And I guess that's kind of what she was doing.   Miss Nakamura strained and pulled with all her might, jerking violently and causing one of her gigantic breasts to flop out of her sweater.  The brown nipple was diamond hard.  I felt a chill run through my veins as I realized I was watching Becky do to the same thing to the librarian that she did to the doctor.
   “You can shhhtop now,” Becky said, and Miss Nakamura stood still.
   “Becky, will you please release my hand?” the librarian asked.
   “I don’t want to,” Becky said coyly.  It’s so soft and pretty… Almost as soft and pretty as your tit.”
   Miss Nakamura tossed her hair back.  “Thank you Becky, that’s very kind of you.”  She was in no hurry to put her boob away, but Becky’s finger skipped up from where it was perched on the librarian’s skirt and tucked the pale white knocker away in the black sweater.  She kept her finger on the librarian’s nipple, tapping it gently.  With each tap, Miss Nakamura seemed to weaken.  “Becky, will you please release my hand?” she asked again, but this time it sounded like she was out of breath.
   “I’ll let it go for a kisshhh,” Becky said, and popped another bubble.
   “Oh Becky, I… I can’t.”
   “Of course you can, it’s just a kisshhh,” Becky said.  She took her fingertips and began running them gently around the librarian’s upper thighs, slowly moving them closer to her crotch.
   Miss Nakamura was starting to sweat, and she was starting to rub her thighs together.  “I guess I can give you a kiss.”
   The curvaceous Asian leaned forward, pressing her bust against Becky’s and gave the hulking girl a quick peck on the lips.  “That wasn’t a kisshhh, Miss Nakamura,” Becky chided.  She now had one hand stroking the librarian’s hair while the other brushed gently against her pubis.  “Try again.”
   Miss Nakamura leaned in again, and when she did, Becky grabbed a handful of black hair.  She forced Miss Nakamura into a deep kiss with one hand, while the other slid two of its fingers into the librarian’s tight virgin pussy.  Miss Nakamura’s eyes bugged out, her knees knocked and she moaned.  Becky pulled her head back, ending the kiss.  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Becky asked, licking her fingers. “In fact, it was pretty sweet.  I want to play a little bit more.”
   “Please Becky,” the librarian begged. “Don’t make me.  I’m not ready for this.”
Becky let go of Miss Nakamura’s hair, and relaxed her pectorals.  The librarian was glowing with sweat and flushed with passion, but she was free.  But she didn’t leave.  “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do,” Becky said, licking her fingers again.  “So… do you want to kisshhh me again?”
   Miss Nakamura shook her head ‘no’, but she panted and said: “Oh yes.”
   “Don’t send mixed signals,” Becky giggled, reaching one of her tiny hands into the librarian’s sweater and massaging a massive breast.  “Do you want to kisshhh me again?
        "Oh God yes."
   "Is that all you want?”  Becky asked, withdrawing her hand.
   “Oh God no.”
   “Do you want me to touch your pussy again?”  Becky asked as she unzipped her track jacket, and slowly pulled it open, her enormous breasts spilling out and her muscles bulging obscenely.  “Do you want to touch thishhh body?”
   “Yes.  Yes.  Yes!”  screamed the librarian.
   “Shhh,” Becky scolded.  “People are trying to read.” 
   They both giggled.  Becky zipped her track jacket up, stuffing her naked breasts inside one at a time as she draped an arm around Miss Nakamura’s waist.  She reached up and whispered something into the Asian woman’s ear that made the other blush and turn away.  Becky put her finger under the librarian’s jaw, and gently turned her head back, planting a delicate kiss on her pouting lips.  Then, Miss Nakamura gestured to the far wall.  “The basement is huge, and it’s never used for anything but storage.”  And the two walked off together.
   I peeked out from behind my hiding place in time to hear Becky speak. “Are you detecting a pattern, Stephen?” she asked aloud as she followed the librarian into the basement, hand in hand.
   I went back to the desk where Becky had her books piled up.  They were full of words that I didn’t understand.  But it’s not like I was going to be able to concentrate, because in about two minutes, shrieks of passion echoed up from the basement.  I had to leave.  I was going to call Angie and tell her not to come.  I couldn’t let her anywhere near Becky Finklestein.  The other guys said the shrieks turned to moans after a few minutes, and that before the library closed, Miss Nakamura locked the basement door and hung up a sign that said “closed for renovations.”
   I tried to call Angie, but she wasn’t there.  I told her mom to leave a message, but she said Angie was out of town, and was going to stop by on her way back from Minneapolis.  I called her stepdad in Sioux Falls, her real dad in Iowa City, and her uncle in Minneapolis.  None of them had seen her.  I couldn’t get to sleep that Thursday night.  Not only was I busy thinking about Angie, but I could hear the clanking.  It was hot, so the windows were open in the dorm.  Far away in the distance I could hear the sound of someone lifting weights. Lots of weights.Massive weights.  The clank of the plates and bars was distant and quiet to everyone else, but in my head it sounded like “Boom.  Boom. Boom.”

[phil123]

Within only 3 days this story besomes one of the best fmg tories. Great start. Looking forward to more!

[Jeremy Lightning]

I read this last night and I have to say that I loved all of these stories, Becky is just awesome! So huge, so strong, and she's also incredibly smart, and I would venture to say she's got a warped mind. Angie is coming down and I have no doubt in my mind that Becky is going to do her best to seduce Angie, maybe not because she wants her, just to stick it in the protagonist's face, not only to steal his girlfriend but most likely to show her the best sex that she has ever had, making her scream Becky's name to the high heavens time after time like she never could with Stephen. k+! I hope there's much more!

[bicepboy]

I used to date a 'Finklestein' (sic). All the girls in the family showed mesomorph tendencies. Maybe you know them?

[fp909]

I never thought one of my favorite stories would star a "Becky Finkelstein" lol

[grbaclig]

Chapter 5 – Breakthroughs

   I woke up early on Friday because I never really fell asleep.  I woke up at sunrise and tried to call Angie again.  I let the phone ring and ring, and the whole time I was looking at the shiny new cord that the maintenance man put in when he fixed the handset, after Becky Finklestein broke it.  The call went to voicemail but I didn’t want to leave a message.  I just wanted to hear Angie.   “Oh my God this is totally Angie you guys.  Leave a message or whatever,” the recorded voice said.  She was so hot. 
   She was the most important thing in my life, except my car and maybe my Motley Crue box set.  I hung up the phone before the voicemail beeped.  I turned to leave, but before I did, I picked up the handset again and squeezed as hard as I could.  Nothing happened.  It didn’t shatter, or crack, or even bend.  Maybe the new handset was a newer model, a better brand maybe.  That was probably it.
   It was still a couple of hours before the New Beginnings center opened, so I went out on the walking trail that ran along the edge of the property to have some smokes and clear my head.  All I could think about was Becky Finklestein.  I ran for a quarter mile or so and I was feeling better, but then I remembered Becky’s arm busting out of her sweatsuit on Monday.  In my memory I wasn’t across the barn, I was right there beside her, so I could have counted the freckles on her bicep as it split the seam on her gray sweatshirt.  So I stopped and did like maybe a hundred pushups and I was feeling better, but then I remembered Becky’s back, glutes and thighs all bulging and shredded as she pulled down the front of her panties to show Doctor Allen her twat.  In my memory, she was looking in the mirror, staring right at my reflection, popping a bubble.  Did that happen or was I just imagining it?  I was still all worked up when I reached the fence that surrounded the New Beginnings center’s property.  The trail kept going into the hills and I still had another 90 minutes until breakfast, so I hopped the fence and kept jogging, because Becky was still in my head, throwing off my game.  I started throwing punches while I jogged and started singing “Kickstart my Heart” and I was feeling better, but then I remembered Miss Nakamura collapsing as Becky forced her into a kiss.  In my memory, I could see Becky’s tongue making bulges in Miss Nakamura’s cheek as she forced the kiss to go on longer and longer, while the librarian pounded her little fist against Becky’s pecs, at least until she started to get off.  I think Becky saw me out of the corner of her eye and winked before she licked Miss Nakamura’s ejaculate off of her fingers.  Did any of that happen?  I didn’t even remember.  I kept jogging up to the hillside overlooking the camp and sat down to grab a smoke.  I didn’t know what to do.  That little girl was all up in my head.  She was playing crazy mind games, but I knew I could persevere.  I ain’t never let nobody dominate me before, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let a four foot nothing girl with a retainer and glasses do it.  I thought about Angie, and how she loved me, and how she kissed me and rubbed me after I beat the shit out of one dude or another.  For her, I could be a hero.   I was feeling pretty good looking down over the New Beginnings center.  I was ready to be a king again.
   When I got back to the dorm I was wicked tired so I slept through breakfast.  But at least I was sleeping.  Joey came and woke me up for our group therapy session.  I hated that shit.  We sat in a circle, and took turns answering the same three questions.  We were supposed to look at the counselor when we were speaking, but keep our eyes closed when other dudes were talking.  It was the same three questions every time, but some of the guys had different answers each week and the counselor, Dr. Jacobsen, who boss of the New Beginnings center, acted like they were all great for being different than they were the week before.  The first kid to go was Joey, and he had to say why he did what he did to get sent to New Beginnings, then talk about a time in his life that he felt in control, then talk about a time in his life when he felt powerless.  And the rest of us had to listen to that shit.  Normally I didn’t close my eyes when other dudes talked, but it was hot so the windows were open, and I was tired, so it was kind of nice to relax.  Then all of a sudden I heard Dr. Jacobsen’s voice.  “Stephen,” he said, “why did you do what you did to get sent here?”
Because these dudes were all hitting on my hot-ass girlfriend,” I said. “I have to protect what’s mine.” 
   “And tell me about a time in your life that you felt in control.”
   “When I beat the shit out of those dudes who were hitting on my hot ass girlfriend.”
   “I like that answer, Stephen.   Our hearts see power, control, and victory as the same thing.  Our heads know that it’s quite a bit more complicated, though.  Now tell me about a time in your life that you felt powerless.”
   I was about to tell him to fuck off, because I never felt powerless, when Becky Finklestein appeared in the window behind him. She was wearing the same gray sweatsuit from Monday, but it looked tighter.  Maybe just because I knew what was underneath it.  She raised her arm and flexed, but this time, instead of tearing, her sleeve ripped apart instantly as her bicep broke through it.  Gray fabric was hanging in shreds from her wrist while her freckled bicep gleamed with sweat.  I swear her arm was even bigger today than she was on Wednesday, and it looked harder too, like there were no soft lines anywhere on it.  She winked at me, turned toward her arm, and blew a bubble of pink bubblegum that inflated until it touched her bicep.  Becky winked at me and inflated the bubble slowly, until it popped against the rock-hard mass of her arm.  Then Doctor Allen ran up.  She stopped cold at the sight of Becky’s bicep, and almost fell over.  Becky smirked and put her arm down.  Doctor Allen held up two shopping bags from Macy’s.  The nearest Macy’s was in Des Moines, according to Angie, so the doctor must have been gone all day to pick those up.  Becky reached into the bag and pulled out a pink bikini with little white designs on it.  She nodded and Doctor Allen smiled and blushed.  Becky stroked Doctor Allen’s hair and pointed off toward the library.  Then they both walked away.
   “Stephen, I’m very proud of you,” Dr. Jacobsen said.  “It takes courage to cry.  This a real breakthrough”
   “I ain’t crying, bitch,” I said, but I reached up to my cheeks and they were wet.  Probably I was allergic to something, since they had the windows open and my eyes were watering.
   I tried not to talk to anyone the rest of the day, I just kept waiting to hear from Angie so I could tell her to go away and wait for me until I got out.  But she never came, and she never answered my calls.  By the time lights out came around I was tired.  It was a shitty day, but it was almost over.  Then I saw headlights outside the window by my bunk.  Then I heard a horn honk in the distance, but it wasn’t a normal honk.  It was “Girls, Girls, Girls,” by the Crue.  That was my Firebird.  I was out of the door like a shot, running through the grounds, hopping the fence and heading to the headlights in the distance.  My car was parked in a little gravel parking lot outside the center grounds.  Leaning against it was Angie.  She was five foot ten inches, ninety-three pounds of hot.  She was wearing cutoff jean shorts that hung so low I could see her pelvic bones peeking out from the belt line, and a Def Leppard T-shirt that was cropped so high I could see every single one of her ribs.  That’s why she didn’t call.  She was stopping to get my car.  She brought me two of the three greatest loves of my life.  Hell I’ll say it; she brought me the two greatest loves of my life.     I can always get another Motley Crue box set.
   I didn’t say nothing.  I just grabbed her, spun her around and kissed her.  And it felt great.  I held her there, leaning against my Firebird, and looking in her blue eyes while she rubbed my triceps.  “Oh my God,” she said.  “I like totally love your muscles or whatever.”
   “I love you too, baby,” I said.  And for the first time in my life I meant it. “Hey, did you bring the stuff we talked about before I got sent away?” I asked.
   “It’s like totally in the trunk, “she said.
   I kissed her again then went to the trunk, unlocked it, and got my stuff out.  It was mostly all sports stuff, just in case the center didn’t have a workout room or anything.  I had my gym bag with a football and some baseballs and baseball gloves, and I had a couple wooden bats and a couple of aluminum bats and a basketball or two.  I took all that stuff out and set it on the ground, and then I saw what I was really looking for, my old GI Joe lunchbox.  I opened it up, looked inside it and smiled.  I kind of stashed it behind a rock because I felt kind of sketchy being out in the light in the gravel parking lot.  I wanted to go somewhere safer, but when I looked at Angie, all I could think about was banging her out on the hood of my car.  “Is that like all the stuff?”  Angie asked.   “I think I got it all but I totally forgot to make a list or whatever.”
   “That’s it babe,” I said, picking her up by her ass and lifting her onto the hood of the Firebird.  “So did you miss me?
   “I like totally missed your muscles and stuff,” she said. “Have you been working out?  Can I feel your arms?”
   “I missed you too,” I said, flexing my right arm.
   Angie’s eyes twinkles.  “Oh my God, it’s totally big or whatever” she said.  She had a way with words that turned me on almost as much as her tiny boobs and bony midsection.
   Then I heard the crunching of gravel.  “You call that a muscle?  Because it looks like a piece of shhhpaghetti to me.”
   I felt sick to my stomach.  For a few beautiful moments, I had forgotten about Becky Finklestein, but there she was stepping into the circle of light around my car.  She was wearing blue high heels, with her toenails painted alternating shades of red and yellow, and a shimmering blue track suit, and she had tied up her pigtails in little red and yellow ribbons.  But what stood out most was her face.  She didn’t have her glasses on, and her hair was all shiny and styled and she was wearing makeup.  She was beautiful.  I never really saw it before, but she had a soft, oval face with high cheekbones, cupid-bow lips, bright green eyes and perfect skin.  Perfect except for the freckles at least.  “You must be Angie,” she said to my girlfriend.
   “Totally nice to meet you, little girl,” Angie said.  “Who are you again?”
   “I’m Becky Finklestein.  I’m in charge of Stephen while he’s here.”
   “That’s like totally cute,” Angie said, looking at me.  “Is that like that time that your parents had your little cousin babysit you because you were like too immature or whatever?”
   I didn’t answer.  30 seconds ago I felt like the king of the world.  Now I didn’t know how to feel.
   “Are you afraid I’m going to shhhteal your lover?” Becky asked.  “Because you should be.”
   “Not really,” Angie said.  “You’re like super pretty and your boobs are obviously huge and stuff, but Stephen likes tall, skinny blonde girls like me.”
   “I wasn’t talking to you,” Becky said flatly.  “I was talking to Stephen.” Becky locked her green eyes on me.  “Stephen, are you afraid that I’m going to steal your girlfriend?” she asked.
   I didn’t say anything, because my mouth was too dry to speak.  Angie spoke up though.  “I’m totally flattered and stuff, and obviously some girls are hot, but I’m like only into muscles.”
   “Really?”  Becky said, gripping the left side of her jacket with her right hand, and the right side with her left hand.  “Shhho do you like muscles like these?”
   Becky didn’t pull her track jacket off, she ripped it to shreds.  Then she tore off her track pants like they were those warm up pants that basketball players use.  But they totally weren’t.  I felt tears welling up in my eyes.  Becky was standing there in high heels and pig tails, wearing blue tights that went down to her calves, even though they couldn’t stretch enough to cover her calves.  Her blue long-sleeved top was strained too tight by her melons to cover her abs completely but it reached down to her belly button, and the sleeves gave up around her huge forearms.  And there was a big red and yellow ‘S’ on her chest, but it was so stretched out of shape that I could only recognize it from my nightmare.
   “Oh.  My.  God,” Angie said, taking a step toward Becky.
   “Oh God no,” I pleaded, grabbing Angie’s hand.
   “Oh hell yes,” Becky Finklestein said, whirling her upper body around like a windmill and breaking a rear double biceps pose.
   It was just like my nightmare, only worse.  As big as Becky was in my deepest subconscious fears, she was even bigger in real life.  And she was prettier.  And her tits were bigger.  And instead of slowly ripping apart, her Superman outfit exploded off her body, popping apart at the seams as her muscles broke through at every point of weakness.   I could feel Angie’s hand sweating.  Becky held her double biceps pose for a second.  “This is what thirty-two inch bicepshhh look like,” she said. 
   I told myself that wasn’t possible.  Arnold’s arms weren’t even close to that big, and he was Mr. Olympia.  And he was a six foot tall full grown man, not a half-pint teenaged girl.  But then Becky squeezed down and winked, and I believed her.  “And this is what a chest that can bench 1,500 pounds looks like,” she said, turning around, pointing her left leg, and clasping her hands together in one perfectly smooth, incredibly fast motion.
   Becky’s little bitchy smirk spread across her lips as she cranked her pecs up into slabs of muscle that looked like… hell I don’t even know what they looked like.  My brain just couldn’t process her mass.  Every time she moved a body part, it looked bigger from the new perspective than it did before she moved.  Her tiny feet shouldn't be able to support all that mass.  Her wrists, her ankles, her waist, and her neck shouldn’t be skinny like a normal girl's if she had muscles that big.  And her knockers shouldn't be bigger than her head.  How could she even walk?
   “Oh!  My!  God!”  Angie yelled, and ran toward the fifty four inch tall behemoth, who was now naked except for her shoes and the ribbons in her hair.  I tried to hold on to Angie’s hand, but she was dripping with sweat and she slipped away. 
   Angie went right to Becky’s chest, and started running her finger along the striations of the young girls’ pectoral muscles.  “This is like the biggest chest in the world or whatever,” she said.  I felt cold all over, but Angie was getting hotter and hotter.  “Your tits are like oh my God so huge.  How big is your bench shirt? Is it like a 5XL or whatever?” she asked. 
   “What!?”  Becky said, relaxing and letting her arms fall to her sides, or at least as close to her sides as they could with the bulging muscles that were wrapped around them like… hell I don’t even know.
   “Your bench shirt or whatever,” Angie said, groping Becky’s traps and shoulders.  “You know, those shirts with the backings that dudes wear to bench more.  How big is yours?  Because you’re like totally huge.”
   “I don’t wear a bench shirt,” Becky said dryly, standing motionless with her left leg still pointed out to the side as Angie wrapped her long, skinny arms around it.  The quad on that leg was so big that Angie sat on it like a chair when she decided to start licking Becky's abs.  “Bench shirts are for shhhkiny bitches,” Becky said.
   “The bench press record is 718.1 pounds, set by Ted Arcidi just last year,” Angie said.  “He was totally wearing a bench shirt and-  Oh my God.  What’s that smell? It’s like amazing.”
   Becky looked down and stroked Angie’s hair.  “That’s me, baby,” she said, and she used her tiny fingers to gently point Angie’s face toward her teenaged labia, which were glistening in the streetlight like perfect ruffles of pink flesh surrounded by the ginger peach fuzz that marked the beginning of a bush.
   Angie lunged forward, but Becky held her in place by the hair.  Angie’s tongue flapped wildly, and she dug her press-on fingernails into Becky’s ass trying to find purchase and pull herself closer to the eighteen year old vulva.  But her nails just snapped off against the hardness of Becky’s glutes and fell into the gravel.  And that’s when I lost it.  I went back to my gym bag and grabbed one of my aluminum bats.
   “Oh my God,” Angie panted, her words running together, “is that what a period smells like?  I don’t have mine anymore because Stephen told me that eating more than a thousand calories a day is what makes girls fat and ugly, and he’s right because now I’m totally hot and I have no boobs and you can see my ribs when you look at my back and stuff.”
   As I walked back toward Becky, I saw her lift Angie up by the jaw.  “What did he tell you?” she asked, growling.  Angie gasped in fear, and closed her eyes.  Then Becky dropped her into the gravel. “Go wait by the car,” she said, and Angie scampered off on all fours like a wild animal.
   I was seeing red, as I marched up to Becky.  I was done with her games and her gym muscles and whatever tricks she was using to make it seem like she was a goddamn super hero.  “That’s enough, you little bitch!”  I yelled.
   Becky was speaking through clenched teeth.  “Stephen, did you force your girlfriend to shhhtop eating?” she asked. 
   “Yeah, I did,” I said.  And I was proud to admit it.  Angie was playing basketball and running track when I met her, and she had muscle tone, boobs, a butt and even a little cellulite.  It took a lot of insults to get her down to 93 pounds.
   Becky started breathing deeply with her eyes closed like she did on Tuesday night, in the fitness center, when she was trying not to lose her temper.  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said.  “I would accuse you of perpetuating dehumanizing patriarchal propaganda, if you weren’t too shhhtupid to understand what those words meant.  But if anything this vindicates my decision to take time away from my plan to fuck with you.”
   “Take your damn retainer out and stop lisping!” I yelled, and swung at her midsection with all my might.
   And then fire shot up my wrists as the bat slammed into something too hard for me to swing through, and I dropped the bat.  Before I could make contact with her, Becky had cocked her right leg out, put her arms behind her head and flexed her abs.  Her right thigh and right calf twitched with power, like they were too strong for her to control.  But the rest of her was unmoved.  She smirked that little bitchy smirk. “At least you had the good sense not to use a wooden bat,” she said.  “I think we both know how that would have ended.”
   I didn’t know what that meant, but I was too mad to stop, so I picked the bat up and swung down at her.  She had moved again, this time standing with her hands on her hips a few inches further away.  My bat landed on her chest with an impotent ‘plik’ sound.  She popped a bubble.  “You have to know by now that you could never hurt this body,” she giggled.  “I’m invincible.  I’m unshhhtoppable.”
   I had heard her say that before, in my nightmare from Monday night.  I dropped to my knees, and let the bat fall to the ground.  Except it didn’t fall.  Becky Finklestein stood there holding my baseball bat between her tits, clamped into her pecs just like Miss Nakamura’s hand was yesterday.  Then she clapped her hands together.  It was so loud that the wind from her clap blew back my hair.  Then she started flexing her chest.  Before I could take in what I was seeing, I heard the squeak of the aluminum being wrenched out of shape.  The bat slowly angled upward as Becky pumped her muscles and smashed the head of the bat between her pecs as casually as if she was squishing play dough between her fingers.  Then, when she decided that she proved her point, she took the shaft of the bat between her thumb and index finger and bent it around to her chest, making it into a circle.  It took like a second, she didn’t break a sweat, and she never took her eyes off me.  Then she threw the bat down onto the gravel.  “Remember that for later,” she said.
   Becky walked back to Angie, who was sitting on the hood of my Firebird, her jean shorts pulled down, rubbing her clit.  “Oh my God,” Angie said.  “You’re like Supergirl or something.”
   Becky rubbed Angie’s shoulders gently.  “There’s no such thing as Supergirl, Angie.  But if there was, I would smash her into a pulp and make her eat me out.”
   “Oh my God.”
   “Would you like to eat me out, Angie?”
   “Oh my God.”
   “…I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.  And then, after you eat me we can go to the cafeteria and you can eat a hamburger.  Or some pizza.  Or whatever you want.  Men can’t tell you what to do anymore, not when you’re with me.”
   Angie’s lips were pouty and twitching as she ran her hands up and down Becky’s muscle-wrapped thighs.  “I’m like totally hungry,” Angie said.  “But I’m not even mad about that.  The worst part is that Stephen doesn’t have a job, so I always have to buy him stuff.”
Becky scowled back in my direction.  Her nostrils were flaring, and that made her even more beautiful.  Her gigantic breasts twitched, first the right and then the left.  Then her glutes tensed.  “What kind of shhhtuff does he make you buy him?” she asked.
   “Well I totally bought him this car or whatever.”
   “Really?” Becky said, picking Angie up by the waist and setting her down in the gravel.
   “I wouldn’t mind, except that he totally bangs out club skanks in it and I think that’s like totally disrespectful to me.”
   “I agree,” Becky growled.
   Becky positioned herself in front of my Firebird, so that she was facing me, my car, and Angie all at once.  She lifted her arms up and splayed her fingers, almost delicately.  Then she raised her right leg up, and up and up until her high heel was pointing to the sky, her massive thigh forcing her naked, freckly tits to smoosh together in a way that made Angie gasp.  How could she be that flexible?  How could she be that well balanced?
Angie’s hands were darting back and forth between her mouth and her panties.  She would lick one hand while the other flicked her bean, and then alternate.  I could feel tears welling in my eyes again.  Then, in a blur, Becky brought her leg down.  The crash of her tiny foot breaking through my Firebird was so loud it split the night.  And it split my car.  There was a cloud of gravel dust, but when it cleared, Becky Finklestein, all four and a half feet of her, was standing casually in the middle of the parking lot with the bent and smoking remains of my Firebird's front end rumpled around her leg.  There was fluid spilling out from under the car and steam pouring out and gears and belts spread all over, but Becky acted like she didn’t notice.  Her eyes were locked on me.  Her eyes burned, but her body language was relaxed, like she was out at night walking buck naked through the woods and my car got in the way of her feet.  So she crushed it.  In about five minutes, Becky Finklestein had taken the only two things in the world that I really cared about.  But she wasn’t done.
   “These new cars are all fiberglasshhh,” she said, picking her right leg out of the remains of my Firebird and walking around to the rear. “They can’t take any kind of impact.”
   Then she bent over, displaying enormous glutes that were probably as world record-defying as her biceps and bench press, and grabbed the rear left tire.  Actually, I guess she grabbed the wheel itself, because I could see the tire deforming around the pressure from her tiny fingers as her arms and shoulders rippled in ways that I was sure weren’t possible.  I saw my Firebird lift off the ground, but that didn’t even surprise me at this point.  What surprised me was when Becky put one hand on the trunk and used the other to bend the rear axle upward so that the tire smashed through the rear windshield.  She had folded my car like napkin.  “That should take care of a couple of problems at once,” she said.  “Are you ready to go the guest cabin, Angie?” she asked.
   In a flash, Angie was wrapped around Becky like a bikini, groping the short girl’s muscles with her hands as she sucked on one giant breast at a time.  Becky looked back at me and popped a bubble as she set off in a straight line toward the guest cabin, oblivious to the weight of Angie’s body, swaying her hips like a runway model.  Did she ever do that before, I wondered?  Maybe Miss Nakamura taught her that.
“Oh my God, do you really max out at 1,500 pounds or whatever?" I heard Angie ask.
   “Oh no,” Becky giggled.  “They only have 1,500 pounds of plateshhh here, but I can knock out about twenty reps at 1,500 before I start to get sore, so I don’t even know what my max bench is.  But I’m going to have access to a lot more weight very soon."

   It took me a couple of minutes to pull myself together.  I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.  Becky Finklestein was bigger than me and stronger than me.  My only consolation was that she was bigger and stronger than everybody else in the world, too.  I went over so many things in my head as I walked to what was left of my Firebird.  Was it sex juice that did this too her?  I had eaten plenty of pussy, but I wasn’t strong enough to bend horseshoes or do origami with cars.  You know what, it didn’t matter.  I was going to end this.  I grabbed my old GI Joe lunchbox and headed up to the guest cabin.  As I got close, I heard moans and squeals.  I knew what was happening, and I was pissed.  I marched up the hill and kicked the door in.  But I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.  Becky was stretched out on the bed, covered in sweat and breathing so deeply her tits shot up and down like pistons.  She was moaning and shrieking, and her green eyes were crossed.  There, splayed across Becky’s gigantic thighs, her feet rubbing on Becky’s enormous calves, was Angie.  She had her face buried in Becky’s teenage vulva, and she was moaning loudly herself as she rubbed her head frantically against Becky’s pubis. 
   This was the first time that I had ever seen Becky Finklestein show any kind of vulnerability.  I knew that I should be happy that she had a weakness, but I wasn’t.  I was mad, sad, and jealous all at once.  I slammed my lunch box down on this little end table by the door and opened it.  Both of the girls looked up.  “Don’t mind him,” Becky panted.  “Men don’t understand the sexual power and energy of the female body, and that makes them angry.  And when men get angry, they get shhhtupid.”
   I guess Becky was done being vulnerable, because she lifted Angie off her bulging, sweat-covered body and stood up.  “I’m sick of this shit, Becky!”  I screamed, and I was about to do something about it. 
   But I couldn’t.
   “Sit. Down,” Becky said.  And then she lifted her arms above her head and brought them down into a crab pose.
I froze.  Her muscles rippled and pulsed so hard that I swear I could feel the guest cabin shaking.  Her traps were bulging over her head, her pecs came up to her chin, and her biceps and tits squeezed together like they were zeppelins fighting for air space.  And she kept swelling up bigger and bigger as she stared at me.  For the first time, I understood how Doctor Allen and Miss Nakamura felt.  I just wanted to do what she said.  So I sat down.  Becky popped a bubble.
   Angie squealed from the bed as she continued to pleasure herself.  “So totally big, so totally huge or whatever,” she moaned.
Then Becky relaxed and stood up.  “Get your stuff together, Angie,” she said.  “We have somewhere to be.”
Iwatched helplessly as my girlfriend drooled over a eighteen year old girl while she put her cutoffs and Def Leppard t-shirt back on.  Then Angie noticed that she left her tiny black panties on the bed.She held them up to Becky and winked.  “Leave them,” Becky said.  “You won’t need them anymore,” and she took Angie by the hand and kissed her tenderly as they walked toward the door.   “You need to come join us in the basement of the library, Stephen,” Becky called out.  “I have a surprishhhe waiting there.  And bring your lunchbox.”

[Greatguy87]

Other being under 18, the story is good.

[Jeremy Lightning]

Damn! I loved this chapter! Becky definitely did what I expected her to, taking Angie right from Stephen, though I will say that Stephen kind of deserved it for being such an asshole, but the way she did it, absolutely mutilating his car with ease, saying that her bench was probably twice that of the World record unassisted and that's barely a good work out for her anymore. Angie was completely hers pretty much from the point that she undressed and showed her what real muscle is, and man, setting up this next chapter, it should probably be the hottest, sexiest chapter of them all! I'm really looking forward to it! k+!