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Forum Saradas  |  Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction  |  Muscular Women Fiction  |  Author: [lowerbase] The Unfair Game | #HG #FMG #Mature
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Author Topic: Author: [lowerbase] The Unfair Game | #HG #FMG #Mature  (Read 25183 times)

Offline thebaron

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #15 on: August 26, 2017, 05:38:01 pm »
I love the little details and asides in your stories that and the complex ways that society changes as women become more powerful and being to dominate.


Offline Circes_cup

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #16 on: September 01, 2017, 01:16:51 am »
I love how clumsy and tongue-tied he gets in the date.  I don't think I could write such an awkward scene.  I've lived plenty of those scenes, mind you.  In fact, I consider myself something of a conoisseur of awkward dates.  Just can't write em!

Offline lowerbase

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #17 on: September 04, 2017, 02:49:30 am »
who said that life inside of a fantasy is easy... well, here we go again



....



3: Confusing Times



I still had one hour to kill before my leave.

Water, coffee, any excuse to move my legs again, to get out of the cubicle.

Glancing at the city's skyline, I couldn't escape the sea of billboards wrapping the downtown buildings, shamelessly plugging extreme mature female musculature to sell products. The ad men knew very well how to rob our attention. It could be selling insurance, and a supermodel lady proudly flexed some part of her body like a joke that never grows old. Rince and repeat, like many men, I drooled like a Pavlovian dog at the pictures of their already insane biceps expanded to the size of a building, eclipsing other billboards displaying mind-blowing thighs or chests.  I couldn't get enough of them.

I'd get hard if I stare at those billboards for too long. Especially at one on the other side of downtown, the famous one with the colossal 76-year-old Raquel Welch, pretty reminiscent of the picture that the warden throws the rock in Shawshank Redemption, the 1000000 BC movie poster. Her hair was just as wild and voluminous, only silver. It was the largest outdoor advertising superstructure ever made, portraying Raquel Welch like a real life giantess embracing the tallest building in town. Her massive traps, delts, and arms surrounded the top of the whole office edifice, her skull-crushing thighs around its sides down the street, her legendary overblowing calves that were three stories high, size of busses. Although it was made to appear she was naked, it advertised a glamorous clothing line for advanced ladies.

I had to get off three times a day to concentrate on anything else but ladies.

On the lunchroom's TV had one of those daytime show as usual. I took one table and watched those ladies in their 50s and 60s with their crossed tanned long legs proudly showing off their muscles before an audience, talking about their awesome lives, flexing those legs with abandon. Either a softly pliable cleavage or two boulders of hard pectoral muscles dominating their chests, the ladies had to show their goods with near obscenity, and sneaking a smile when the camera orbited their ever-growing bodies closer. I could tell that they couldn't manage their exhibitionist ways, it was a turn-on for them to have their musculature and such curves watched by so many eyes, and for all friends, coworkers, and families to see at home; it was theirs 'Mom is on TV' moment. Their withdrawn stay-at-home dads, I mean, husbands, would be by their side nodding and agreeing with them, holding their wive's hand, even if the ladies were talking about their lacking performance in bed. "It is not really their fault," a towering 62-year-old lady would say looking down at her old hubby more like a judge rather than a wife, "not even a college football athlete in his prime can handle all of me these days."

Ten years ago we wouldn't have daytime shows candidly talking about orgasms and sex, and going around on how sex became 'safer' after the Leap. Bragging about freedom that they couldn't get pregnant anymore, and the older they get, their immunology would grow more resistant to any complications from their excessive 'casual sex' affairs. It added more despair for the lonely younger women out there; that besides of being overwhelmed by the ladies' sexual pull, men felt safer having sex with the ladies as well.   

I drunk the coffee watching the heated debate between middle-aged Moms if was 'immoral' is to steal boyfriends from their daughters. "If I don't like the boy..." said a big 6'5 black and uber muscular lady, with golden rings and collars adorning her arms and her muscles cleavage like an Egyptian princess, "...there is no best way to get rid of him." The audience booed at her.

A gorgeous blond lady with larger and intimidating shoulders agreed with her. She wore a low cut corset dress that hardly held her ample large breasts from spilling out, "at the very least, my daughter will know that he doesn't have the character to marry her or to have my grandchildren," the audience applauded. "If he can resist me…" the blond lady flashed her double biceps to the camera, '23 and 1/2 inches' appeared on the text overlay next to her name and age of 59, "…he is marriage material." The female audience, mostly women in their thirties, applauded louder, each of their developing and respectful biceps pulsating with each loud clap. Daytime shows were like porn to me.

Once, years ago, I got a short relationship with a girl which I used to find so hot in the pre-Leap years. Suddenly, after the Firebird, she was available. I was in denial of what I wanted, a big muscular lady. And that's the thing: once I met her mother, everything went sour. She grew rudely jealous of me and said I would never meet her family, or could see her mother again. I mean, I only glanced at her mother once when we crossed with her in a supermarket, and I just offhandedly compared her mom's breasts with the melons she was picking. Yes, I always make a stupid face when a lady like her mother comes closer to me, I can't avoid that, and the floral sundress did so little to hide her mom's fantastic physique, which clocked at 250lbs of raw mature muscle and breasts and ass at that time. When we got to sex that night, all I could think was of her mother biceps. I believe she noticed that. The relationship ended a week later.

The twenty-something old girls' playfield was unfair in every sense, the boys that the girls fancied to start a relationship would eventually meet her mother one day or another. Every other time a family drama would pop up about some mother taking possession of the daughter's boyfriend and her closest male friends. I've heard fights over the wall of my apartment every other month, "mom does this every time!" Yes, just a flex was enough to seduce a guy. Many girls in the Leap Generation ended never-been-kissed-virgins until they grew some muscles to compete with the previous GenX and Babyboom generations. Many girls became reserved and gathered little self-esteem, incapable to stop but watch older women ruling over men of all ages.

I remember the first moment this insane attraction overtook all others as if it was today.

At first, my mother and her sisters' felt their bodies to be repulsive when the Firebird made its first sweep over our lives on Thanksgiving Day. Instantly, I was surrounded by masses of female muscle, and they were inside of it. It felt like stumbling upon a road accident which you don't know where to look first, or if you should. While I did my best to refrain myself from glancing at my mother's new body, I couldn't do the same to my aunties Leonora and Ophelia. They used to be almost identical to one another before the transformation, and they still do, just became unrecognizable altogether. The difference between them was that Aunt Ophelia developed breasts nearly the size of her head, while Aunt Leonora was still taller and grew more muscular than Ophelia, with hard boulders on her chest. All the years of heavy drinking, smoke, and poor diet vanished. In its place two amazons who seemed to live in the gym for decades. Their flabby fat arms became just as thick but filled with hard mass. Their skin was then flawless, golden. Thinner and healthier faces uncovered the beauty they never expected to have.

After the panic of the first transformation, which ended with mom breaking her laptop by grasping on it, and a coffee table being kicked out to the wall, they flexed their arms for the first time; afraid and impressed by a cannonball growing out of them, "those are... biceps..." Aunt Ophelia mumbled at its realization. Her voice was deeper than the cigarettes had already left her. She was scared to flex her legs that would bulge more and show their actual size, "never seen so many muscles," my mother said feeling her arm, trembling and astounded. They had a film-like skin around her limbs, showing the full definition of her major muscle groups, completely alien to them.

While mom's college photos showed a solid 'seven,' my overweight and chain smoking aunts were a five or a four at their previous best years. The Firebird's pixie dust made their faces to score an eight, perhaps nine in the attraction scale, but then it was multiplied by the imposing physical perfection of their rollercoaster curves and muscles. Their tired and sagged skin became silky and creamy, their lips full like cherries, glossy and shiny.

Mom saw me frozen, watching three nearly naked amazons who took my family's place, and remembered to cover her breasts from the rags of her shirt and bra, much larger than she used to have, "Turn around, Richard!" She yelled. Her voice was also different and louder, the sound of a drill sergeant rather than a Mom.

They tried to call for help. No one knew what to do. My mother tried to call my father, but all lines got jammed by the collective panic, the internet was stuck; she grew so worried and confused by the situation that she ended to punch the wall. "Jesus, mom," I squealed at her. I have never seen her exploding like that before, and instead of hurting her fist, she blasted the wall, made a hole into the plaster. She was amazed at how painless it felt. "My goodness," she said looking at her hand and the hole. For one moment I was afraid she would do another punch, out of curiosity.

I watched my family getting taller and stronger on each surge each day. My aunties' barrel 5'5 bodies to become an athletic 5'10 in the First Surge, to muscle-bound 6'4 in the Second Surge, to 6'7 and larger hypertrophied muscles in the final third day, becoming graceful behemoths afraid of breaking everything they'd touch, including me.

The commerce closed due to the curfew and panic and concerns about looting. So, of course, at home, there wouldn't be clothes that would fit them. I'm taller than my father, so my wardrobe was then sacrificed for some decency; the brand new clothes that I bought for my first job, to impress people -and girls-, ended in their hands.

They chose to hide their bodies with the loosest items they'd find. My clothes held together pretty well on their bodies on the first day, but I had to watch them disintegrate on the second day when the Firebird crossed our skies like a second red Sun.

Even my gym clothes wouldn't then be spared.

I was astounded not just by their sudden transformations that defied anything we knew about reality. On the second day, I found myself going to the kitchen at night just to see once again my aunts sleeping on their beds. Seeing their legs too long for such small beds.

It was beyond me. Suddenly I felt like an alcoholic, and their feminine muscles were like bottles of 30-years scotch. In my aunties' case, 63-year-old and 65-year-old radiant glasses of lavish bulging musculature. I never paid due attention to a girl's muscles before.

During the day, we kept our eyes flipping TV channels trying to understand what was happening with the world. A quarter of Mom's white orchids burst out of their vases. Their new sizes varied greatly, some become gigantic, looking more exotic; one orchid which Mom planted into an oak years before had its roots strangling the tree. At the garden, I saw doves with the wingspan of an eagle, breaking and moving tiles to pick what was underneath. More than female muscles, it was clear to anyone that nothing will be the same as before.

Most of the local news that day was about the female animals that had escaped their cages in the zoo, and instead of running for freedom, they were found either mating or hunting. Most of the male animals had died in the zoo in those three days. Only those protected by their mothers and older female partners survived. It was scary to step outside, especially for my gender.

On the couch seating by my side, they wouldn't stop flexing and wondering what it was all about; attempting to get acclimated to their new size, weight, and absurd strength. "Everything looks so damn tiny," Aunt Leonora, the tallest sister, said while standing up, feeling the ceiling against her palm as she extended her body, staring down at the furniture and me. I was the only 'male' in there to give them a frame of reference.

"And breakable..." Aunt Ophelia said as she found the cable TV remote in pieces in her fist, leaving bits of plastic to fall inside of her into the canyon between her breasts. She never had a cleavage before. Aunt Ophelia was still perplexed of having such breast flesh ramming into her view. On each surge, they grew several cups, until she was crowned with 'the biggest pair of breasts I've ever seen' title. Their constant presence was distracting for herself and everyone else, as they were unnaturally large, larger than silicone monsters; and yet they bloomed from her rib cage ascending upwards and to the sides, as if an insistent virtual push-up bra held them, as my old tank top did little to support them. When Aunt Ophelia talked, walked, sneezed, our eyes would unintentionally leer down into the weighty jounces of her new wonders as they were impossible to ignore.

As anyone can imagine, I was pretty much speechless this whole time.

Beneath the surface, I could see a sparkle in their eyes revealing their thoughts. The lingering feeling that there was a new order in place, and they were on top.  Over those three days, I watched their expressions to change from repulsion to confusion about their muscles, and then to curiosity. At times, all these three feelings at once. They'd spot themselves over a mirror, first proudly at their renovated faces, then frown at the vascular muscles that followed their neck and shoulders, and of course, and sigh in amazement at such perfect spherical breasts that my utterly stretched t-shirts struggled to conceal.

"I don't think they look so bad..." Mom would say flexing at her arm for the Nth time, stretching the sleeves of a black shirt of mine, convincing herself that it was indeed her body, while the TV showed the surviving footage of an indestructible female shark attacking a boat, a true megalodon in our waters. None survived.

"I hope Mia and Toby are well," Aunt Ophelia said, worried about her two cats in her home. Her traps tensed around her neck, thinking about them being alone during this crisis.

"I fear for Toby..." I said behind their shoulders, looking at the images on TV of how mother nature was suddenly transformed, from great female older trees dominating the forests to female horses multiple times stronger and faster than any stallion that came before. They've coined this new world of the wild as 'Matronian Megafauna.' It was a parallel universe inhabited by massive matronly beasts, inspiring awe and above all, respect.

"Mia loves Toby since he was a kitty. Mia is so sad that he has been distant from her over the last years. I think she'll able to change that now."

There were no Thanksgiving leftovers by the third day, which used to remain weeks in the fridge uneaten. Dad also left the refrigerator overstuffed with food before his trip; I saw it been depleted by the fourth day. My mother and her sisters were eating like pregnants.

By the fifth day, mom started to open dad's wine collection. "Stressful times," she said opening the first bottle. I started to drink too. I have been locked there with three muscular sirens unaware of how attractive they've become.

Tired of TV and Internet, the three maidens around me in my tortured shirts and pants, started to chat as the wine was such as a good idea to forget the hunger. We only had bread and cheese that I was able to find in the looted supermarket, which they were trying to ration.

Around nine the lights went out in the entire city.

I walked in the dark to find my phone, and suddenly Aunt Leonora's massive leg lurched on my chest sending my back into a wall. It was the first time I felt their strength and size, and it hurt. She came to help, yanking my weight like I was a child into her arms. She carried me like it was the natural thing to do, asking if I was okay. I felt her arms around me, my hand rested on her traps, my other hand trying to grip on her bicep. "Richard is shuddering," she alerted my mother who came pointing her phone's lantern at me.

"I'm... okay!" I said trying to pry open from my aunt's stronghold and my mother feeling my forehead. "I'm fine," I repeated.

"I'm not so sure," Aunt Leonora kept holding me effortlessly, I couldn't free myself from her arms, and my hands kept bumping on her pectoral muscles, she just didn't move an inch. "He was shaking like a leaf while I held him, his legs dangled like he received a shock," she described to my mother.

Then Mom focused her light on the wet surface of my crotch. "Richard!"

"What?"

"For God's sake, go to your room! Go change those pants!"

"Oh, my God!" Aunt Leonora understood what happened and dropped me on the carpet. I walked away, ashamed. What was happening to me? I haven't one expontaneous explosion in my trunks since I was twelve in bed, eight years before.

Walking to my bedroom, I kept hearing their conversation downstairs, "I'm speechless, I had no idea," whispered Aunt Leonora. "I didn't do anything, I swear, Moira."

"It is true, though," Mom said in realization. "Men changed as well."

I closed the door to clean myself. How could I look in my auntie's eyes again? That shame I couldn't clean off. I stayed on my bed for half an hour before Mom came knocking. I didn't respond, she opened the door anyway, breaking the lock without noticing, "Richard, Richard, what we are going to do with you?" I knew very well when Mom got too much wine.   

She sat on the bed, I could feel its frame to bend underneath her. Mom held the old and rusted grandma's piano candelabra that weighed several pounds like nothing. It was enough to light the whole room. She saw me averting my eyes from her biceps, which had finally destroyed the sleeves of my black shirt, leaving her whole arm bare. She could read me easier that Mr.Shields would ever able to do, "is that bad, huh?" She closed her free hand into a fist and cocked her arm into a pose, evaluating my reaction.

I never hid anything from my mother. She knew about everything about me. Being her sole son, and at times dad traveled, being her only company, made us closer than most people.

"Yeah. I don't know how to say it. It is beyond my control," I said looking again at her flexed biceps. Looking to her face was difficult as she became so pretty as well.

"I see," she relaxed and took my hand, "from what I've seen and read from my friends, it is natural now. Nothing to be ashamed. You are just adapting to how things will work from now on," she expanded her chest as she said that, I could see her lats opening like wings and more stitches opened apart just below her armpits, exposing her obliques. "We ladies are adapting as well. Just behave. In the light of these changes, some men are misbehaving badly...  very badly. Some ladies are resorting to physical punishment to make them stop in their tracks. We don't need to reach that point. Are we?"

One more rip from that shirt alerted me to reply faster, "no mom, of course, I'd never attempt to grab any of you. I'll do my best to control... this."

"Good. Good. Come back with us while there is still food."     

I walked by her side, the height difference between us was light and day. My head reached mom's collarbone at best, her legs and hips took almost the entire space of the narrow corridor of that old house, making me follow behind her and not by her side.

Aunt Leonora had to duck down to bypass the kitchen's entrance, she brought me a plate with bread and raspberry jelly, "I was able to save this for you, Richard," she and her sister watched me eat like I was a sick kitty and needed some love. The three fabulous women didn't flex any muscle or let their disposable clothes to rip while I ate in silence. I appreciated the concern, but it made me feel even more vulnerable than before.

On the other side, they became self-aware that their new bodies would not just give the power to manhandle men like kittens, but to inflame new desires that trodded over discretion and social barriers.   

The three maidens seemed more comfortable about themselves once the wine filled their bellies. Both of my aunties didn't use to drink like Mom, always taking water instead. That night was different; they needed a moment to stop worrying about this new state of affairs. 

Actually, they were constraining themselves not to flex their muscles to marvel again at the strange appeal they projected. Once I finished eating, there was a creepy silence out there.  No cars or people, even the neighbor's dog was calm. Mom stood up and stopped the loud tick-tock of grandpa's old clock. We then could only listen to the calming effect of mom's melodic wind chimes and the breeze outside. 
 
I took a step towards the window, there was a full moon shining between milky clouds, and I could hear the sound of a wild sex far away. More than one couple.

"What are you thinking, Moira?" Aunt Ophelia asked. She looked beautiful under the candlelight.

"I wouldn't dare to say," Mom said.

"I'm uncomfortable as well," Aunt Ophelia rubbed one muscular leg over another, the old couch squealed under her shifting weight.

Aunt Leonora wasn't so able to stop herself caressing her own muscles as she had the biggest ones. She brushed her fingers over the bulk of her quad bursting from my bike shorts; it was the same spot she hit me on the chest an hour ago. She kept sensing its contours, following its tendons, where one muscle started and where it finished. She then flexed it, she made all those muscles to arch outward and swell like a balloon, making her thigh wider than my hips. She noticed that was looking, yet she didn't relax it. She said rather that would "rest a little" in her bed.
 
It was an old house and had several bedrooms for a big family, and Aunt Leonora and Aunt Ophelia still had their beds. They were raised in that house and then were outgrowing it. Later, Mom would have to move from there after several incidents with her growing body. The wooden floor squeaked at her feet, there was this fear it would collapse if they walked too harshly, even in the dark I could see her prominent calves to pulse elegantly with each step of the staircase as if she was walking on shell eggs. 

After a minute, I crossed her door. She wasn't snoring or quiet; instead, her bed was rocking against the wall, and it sounded it would fall apart at any moment. She was moaning, holy shit, I thought. It was the hottest thing I've ever heard. I felt I would blow right there, and no one would know, my mom and my aunt's weight on the floor would alert me if they'd see me.

I should be punished for it, but I couldn't stop myself from going along with Aunt Leonora's noises. Or to keep me from speculating what she was thinking: that she smashed a twenty-year-old man against a wall with a fraction of her power, or that she became so hot that made her nephew to helplessly bust a wad by just touching him.

Then, I heard the squeaky stairs, and I ran to the bathroom, "Richard?" Mom said by the door, "remember what we talked? I hope I don't need to talk about discipline again."

"I'm just taking a dump, Mom!"

"Behave, huh?"

"I will," I said as Aunt Leonora's bed was still making sounds against the wall.

I don't know about Mom, but I knew that Aunt Leonora and Aunt Ophelia hadn't laid with a man in decades. If ever. And there was a full moon outside.

After a crescendo, the banging noise suddenly stopped, and a minute after she left her bedroom. I decided to wait there until she cleared the corridor. It wasn't prudent to bump into her legs again. But then I heard the wood to squeal just before the bathroom door and the handle to twist. The flimsy lock tore away from the wall as she entered there, squishing the muscles of her shoulders against the door frame and noticed me below her breasts watching her.

I was still seated on the closed toilet with my pants down, hiding my hard tool with a towel as she processed the scene. "Oh, my...  I'll let you... finish," Aunt Leonora turned her body away hastily, and her massive shoulder cracked the door's hinges, making it useless.

Talk about awkward. 

I took off the towel full of jizz; I just had another expontaneous blow as she blasted that door and her uber muscular arm invaded that tiny space.

It was enough. I had to lock myself in my bedroom and stop my mind from this perversion. It has gone too far. I used the internet for half an hour before the battery was dead. My only chance to stop thinking about their muscles was to sleep.

Then, I heard them laughing downstairs, rolling in guffaws. I've never heard any of aunts to laugh that loud before, or maybe to ever laugh. They used to be so uptight and uncaring like they had given up to any prospect of a happy life.   
 
I walked the darkness until by the end of the staircase and listened to their conversation.

"Nigel would be my first target," said Aunt Ophelia drinking the wine from the bottle.

"Isn't he in his sixties?" My mother said eying Aunt Ophelia's big breasts bursting from the white tank top, one I've never used because it was so ridiculously baggy on me. "I think those would give him a heart attack, Ophelia," Mom pointed to those two globes in my Aunt's chest.

"Who said I like him?" Aunt Ophelia shrugged her muscular shoulders, making her breasts to bounce and slosh, and they laughed with their hands over their bellies, or abs, swigging more wine from the bottles like unruly teenagers.

"I can't wrap my head around over how big those got, Ophelia..." Mom said in awe of her sister's breasts. "They're nearly the size of your head."

"They don't feel any heavier," Aunt Ophelia hefted them both, making them drop, testing the gravity on them. They went back to their natural teardrop shape after bouncing for a while, Mom bit her lower lip in admiration.

"They look amazing on you," she said.

"Thanks," she chugged more wine. "Want to feel them? They're heavy, you can feel them..."

"Oh, I want. They must be heavy. Look at this," mom pressed her hands against them, pushing them with her body mass, making the couch to crack, my aunt's pneumatic breasts barely registered it. "They're so massive and dense. It is mind blowing," my mother kept saying, almost as if she wished a pair of that size for herself. Time would then give her, she would discover.

"I think I can crush this bottle between them."

"I bet you would. You could trap a man's head between them."

"While my mine would crush them to pieces," Aunt Leonora said flexing her pectoral muscles making the deep cleft between them deeper as they surged forward. As she did so, my gray shirt from high school years opened up revealing more inches of hard cleavage. Her breasts were reasonable large for her frame, but the mass of her pecs outshined them.

Mom was a bit of both. Her breasts had the size of cantaloupes, isn't wasn't  proportionally large as Aunt Ophelia. I'd guess mom could fit her entire index finger into her muscular cleavage, while Aunt Leonora could fit most of her hand. 

"How strong are we, after all?" Aunt Leonora wondered as she watched her chest muscles to bulge until the two mounds meet her chin, and then relaxed, and did again appreciating them moving and shifting underneath her skin.

"There is nothing in this house I couldn't lift," said mom. "That old washing machine? Easy. The doubled door fridge? Not so easy to grasp around, but I could lift it. And you both have bigger muscles than mine."

"How about Richard's car?" Aunt Ophelia said looking out the window at the green Ford Fiesta parked on the street.

"I can't do it," mom said, "I'm sure I can't lift it. Now, you..." she pointed at Aunt Leonora's arms, "I think you can."

"Am I that strong? Can't be. A car? Nonsense," she seemed to swell proudly that her sisters believed she's that strong.

"It is a compact car, a little one," mom said.

"How much it weights?"

"A ton. Maybe a little more than a ton. I don't know."

"How many pounds are that?"

"About two thousand."

"Nah, impossible," Aunt Leonora waved her hand at my mom. Mom and Aunt Ophelia were too curious to find out and dragged the tallest sister outside. I walked away to see it from my bedroom.

I should have tried to stop my drunk aunt from almost flipping my new car, but then, I was damn curious myself. There was only the moonlight illuminating the dark street, encouraging them to go out nearly naked as my clothes hardly hid anything. I couldn't hear them talk as they spoke with low voices to not attract attention from the neighbors. They circle my car wondering where it could give a good grip.

Mom grasped on the fender of the front wheel. Her bicep bulged into a sphere as the car started to go up until it left the pavement and then she let the car to fall, shaking its suspensions, "it is so easy," I could read her lips before she covered her mouth in amazement of her own strength. 

Aunt Ophelia grabbed the front of the car and lifted the front wheels until it tilted 45 degrees and started to mock the weightlessness of my car. "Are you sure this is not a prop?" Aunt Ophelia kept holding it effortlessly as mom went to the back of the car and brought it up until it was horizontal again, my whole car was hovering seven feet above the ground as both muscular amazons lift it higher until their arms were straight. "I think we found a new way to park a car..." Mom said, but then she alerted them "hey, I don't know if I can hold for much longer! I'm not as strong as you two," Mom as her arms started to strife against the weight. I could see some neighbors coming out with candles and flashlights, watching that unusual scene. 

Aunt Leonora walked below my hoisted car and found two spots to place her hands. She bent her knees and positioned herself. The car then stood higher as Aunt Leonora squatted my whole car. "Don't let it fall!" She yelled to her sisters who stood on each side of her, spotting her. "It is amazing! I think I could throw it!" Aunt Leonora didn't seem to be breathing hard; she just was ecstatic of her strength. "I could lift an elephant! Let's do some exercise!" She said bringing the car down by bending her knees, pumping her already thunderous thighs, and as she stood up, the bike shorts I just bought a month before ripped apart completely from her surging muscles, leaving her bottom naked. I almost fainted as the car that I was still paying almost tumbled over the street if my mom and Aunt Ophelia weren't there to catch it up.

I was holding my breath for the entire until I blew again, involuntarily.

Aunt Leonora ran back to the house as mom and Aunt Ophelia put my car back into the place. Laughing like girls who just won a beauty contest, embracing each other, squashing their big breasts together in front of some dumbfounded neighbors filming it with their phones.

I heard the heavy steps of Aunt Leonora coming upstairs and I jumped to my bed belly down faking to be deeply sleeping, her immensely muscular legs stood naked before my door, illuminated by the same candelabra Mom was holding earlier. Her hand was attempting to cover her crotch.

She must saw me 'sleeping' but made herself sure if I was indeed asleep, "Richard? Are you awake?" She bumped her forehead onto the top of the doorway as she tried to enter, "shit," plaster dust fell over her massive shoulders and sneezed loudly with a force that pulled my hair out of my eyes. I didn't move.

What did she want? Her overly pumped legs crisscrossed my vision until she met my wardrobe. Aunt Leonora pushed its door from the wrong side, and it came out with a crack in her hands. "Shit..." She glanced at me if she hadn't awakened me yet. Putting the door aside, she started scrambled around my clothes for something there stretchable enough to cover her lower part: a butt so round and muscular that none of Kardashian's plastic doctors couldn't ever build to compete. They were free of any dimples or any droopiness; the soft moonlight made her ass to shine like twin globes of marble, bouncing a little and shifting as she bent down to reach the lower of my drawers. I could feel my balls starting to hurt from the excessive and continuous provocation. Seriously, it was becoming a torture, and yet. I couldn't close my eyes.

Aunt Leonora sat on my computer chair with the sound of it snapping, "shit..." she said again glancing at me. My armchair wouldn't ever be the same after it. She carefully attempted to wear some old gym shorts of mine, just one leg to see if it could stand her muscles first, it crossed her thick calf with some ease, but once it met her quads and hamstrings, it started to rip as she pushed along.

At the sound of it, I groaned. She heard me. I pretended to snore. I didn't need more embarrassments. Aunt Leonora seemed scared that I could wake up any moment to find her naked in my bedroom, and yet I could see her engorged MILF nipples hardening under my high school's gray t-shirt. The printed eagle wings were absurdly stretched embracing each bust. While my shirt was able to hold her breasts together, the neck collar had gone, ripped as her massive muscular chest needed more space. 

She had found my running compression short shorts that were tight even on me, and she tried it out delicately to not rip it, slowly over her skin inch by inch, fitting her like rubber. It ended to not covering her whole butt, leaving one-third of it bare, above and below. Amazingly, it didn't explode from her body; it might last a few hours.

Aunt Leonora posed before the wardrobe's door mirror that she just ripped off. She was indecent, it left her rear all exposed, nothing left to the imagination, and she seemed to like it very much.

Then, she turned to me. I had my eyes closed enough that in the darkness she wouldn't see ogling. But then she brought her arms down, palming her hands together in front of her, and the muscles of her chest, arms and neck seemed all to come forward, my old school shirt opened like a zipper as more chest muscles came upwards and forwards. Was she chuckling?

My balls could hurt, but it didn't stop me from wetting myself again, and she relaxed, amused. Maybe laughing off from the insanity of it, of how crazy the world has become around her, that indeed she became so wildly attractive that even rags get too sexy on her body.

She flexed her immense biceps before me, arrogantly, pretty aware I was watching her, fascinated of how being desired feels like; a super sexual being just born before me. After marveling at her arms for a while, admiring its size and power, she just turned her head to my direction again, "have good dreams, Richard." She flew me a kiss. This time, she strode less carefully making the floor to crack loudly with her heavy steps, before closing the door of my bedroom.

Yes, from that day to this day ten years later, there has always been this big elephant in the room. That yes, she could pull strings and make me melt anytime she wishes. A game that not just her liked to play, but to compete with her sister.

On the sixth day after the Firebird made its entrance, I noticed Aunt Ophelia bumping over me with her large breasts more often, by turning around hastily or just trodding into my direction without looking. Tall as Aunt Ophelia got, my eyes were square at her breasts height, massive and majestic.

Surely, they both talked about me overnight. And yes, her huge taunting breasts were just as enticing as Aunt Leonora's huge arms, huge legs, and huge ass. Aunt Ophelia just wanted to be sure of it and to test it.

But it wasn't just her breasts. It was the whole package that would make me lose control once more. When Aunt Ophelia tore apart one more of my overstuffed white t-shirts by flexing her twenty-two-inch arm, right in front of my eyes while drinking tea, I just lost it.

"Again?" My mother said looking down at me. This time becoming afraid that I had problems. Aunt Ophelia and Aunt Leonora exchanged knowing glances nodding to each other.

Aunt Leonora just giggled, "he is a young man. It is his young male hormones," she said taking my hand full of compassion, but I could tell she was smiling inside.

"What if all men are like this now?" My mother kept talking like I wasn't there listening to that conversation.

"I'd say it would be interesting," said Aunt Ophelia.

"But men are already so raunchy. It will only make them worse," Mom said feeling her abs that the tightened shirt wasn't able to cover.

"It is not like men can do anything against our will..." Aunt Ophelia said as she decided to tear the other sleeve with a fast flex, smiling at how quaint it was.

"I just hope they don't get as bad as Richard," she said cuddling my hair. I wanted to bury myself.

Going to five supermarkets, buying anything I could find to satiate my mother and aunties' ravenous hunger, I noticed that my car wouldn't drive straight anymore, it was completely misaligned. I also noticed that my mom's grip last night bent the metal outwards in the front wheel. I should ask her to fix it, or at least pay for it, if she didn't look so damn intimidating. 

At home, I put the bags on the table calling them, "I could only find these, there is no extra-large size of anything anywhere. Sold out. But I bought everything that was stretchy."

"Stretchy?" Aunt Leonora took an unitard from one bag. "It is a bit tacky, don't think?" It was black with tiger stripes in white.

"It is all the Wallmart got," I said.

Mom turned her nose up at the bright neon pink leggings she just unfolded, but she sighed, "beggars can't be choosers."

They wanted to be fed first, so I applied my limited cooking skills to make food for an entire platoon while they attempted to wear the clothes I was able to buy.

Mom was still able to wear my sneakers, for Aunt Leonora and Aunt Ophelia, I had to buy new ones, NBA player sized. By the time the rice was ready and the meat cooked, I heard the stairs to groan again as the ladies came down in their new colorful sporty outfits, all skintight around their stiff muscles like gym bunnies.

Mom put her hair in a ponytail, showing off her traps, the hot pink sports bra barely contained the bottoms of her breasts, and she didn't seem to mind. "Thanks, Richard, I don't know what we would do if you weren't here," she came down to kiss my forehead. "At least now I can go outside... barely" she said feeling the sunshine by the window and pushing the top down to cover her breasts, feeling the faint heat from the sun to fall on her cleavage. She stretched her arms towards the ceiling, "I'm feeling so energetic. Like I could move mountains," she said cocking her muscled arm, "these weapons could cross the Suez canal," she said as I poured ten pounds of rice into the bowls.

"And Dad, Mom? How do you think he will take it?" I said looking at her eighteen or nineteen inches arm.

"He can follow me in a boat," she laughed.

"I'm talking about your muscles..."

"I have a good feeling about it," she winked at me as she flexed her legs, jutting her quads to herself, happy that the leggings weren't ripping apart like my clothes. 

Aunt Leonora wore her tacky unitard, which only left her thick forearms and calves exposed, she started to eat as fast as I could serve. She used to be a bit of a glutton before; then it was serving after serving of rice and meat as I've never seen before.

Aunt Ophelia wasn't as comfortable in her new clothes. I couldn't find anything that could fit her breasts, just a feeble red spandex bra which had no support function at all. Her breasts bounced loosely as if she wasn't wearing anything at all, like paint. Under the sunlight, stretched as it was, it got translucent, showing everything, her areolas in clear view as her firm nipples poking it, and after a while, she'd stop to care.

After watching them eating, their biceps bunching as the fork brought food nonstop, Mom turned to me, "Have you eaten anything?" she said as the bowls were empty in minutes.

"I'll rub the pans," I said. I understood then why the government was afraid of a food shortage crisis.   

After the curfew was lifted on that day, I drove my aunts back to their homes, and it almost finished wrecking my car, only on the inside this time. I could only watch my car rocking back and forth as each of them tried to fit their huge butts and legs in a compact car. They compressed and stuffed their muscular limbs into the small space. Aunt Leonora seat sideways on the back, while Aunt Ophelia sat on front. "It is even smaller on the inside," she said pulling the seat beyond its rails limits, breaking it. "I'll pay for that..." She said to me as the seat got loose under her weight.

With the car fully packed, I drove slowly as I could, to save the car. There was also traffic, so we watched the people on the streets trying to bring back some normalcy to their lives. We saw tall muscular ladies with improvised clothes among them, some ladies with heads and shoulders above the crowd, those had silver hair. Some of them already walking proudly like royalty. Other ladies were still unsure of all the overwhelming attention that their new bodies gathered.

My aunts saw that life has changed for everyone and that they weren't different, or shouldn't feel different. Aunt Ophelia pointed to a couple doing some shameful things in an alley, "are those two..."

"Yeah..." I said also watching a towering amazon lady with a college jock's head buried in her big breasts. His hand buried in her muscular legs stimulating the lady further.  Both were getting off on each other in plain sight of the traffic.

"Oh, my," said Aunt Leonora, "he's cute... look at that little butt. I'd think I'd do the same..." I never heard Aunt Leonora talk about sex or male body parts candidly.

That guy was a jock, and my aunt found him 'cute.' I noticed by the rear mirror she was also getting off at their public act. "That is hot..." she mumbled while sucking strands of her hair into her mouth with the tip of her fingers, sucking them. I felt the car rocking a little as she seemed to be losing self-control. I said nothing. I kept looking ahead, turning the rear mirror aside, ignoring the car swinging and rocking side to side so slightly, as if I could.

Aunt Ophelia was affected as well as she shifted her body to the side and made some pelvic moments until her quads bulged and part of the car's dashboard cracked from her legs pressure on it. "Sorry," she said waking up from her sudden frenzy. "I'll pay for that too," she tried to put  dashboard pieces back into place, splitting it more.

My car survived the drive without more incidents. But once its suspension got relieved from the heavy load of female muscle, I noticed that my brand new car was then uneven. I didn't say anything, as my aunties were even more intimidating than my mother.

"Hi, Bob!" Aunt Leonora waved her hand to her neighbor's direction, the Phi-Theta fraternity. A packed house that both my aunties and my mother would come to visit often in the years to come, supplying them with fresh young college students for life.

He was speechless as my aunts unloaded themselves from my car, and Aunt Leonora walked to 'Bob,' who was cleaning up empty beers from their last party. He was totally stunned to see his old/new neighbors transformed, she let him give a long look before addressing him, "I don't want loud Hip-Hop after ten, boys... not anymore. Unless you want my sister and me knocking on your door."

'Bob' mumbled something, or tried to reply to this towering amazon with epic proportions in a tigress unitard lecturing him, and I could tell he was fighting to contain an expontaneous explosion in his pants. Watching it, I finally laughed a little after all these days, that I wasn't the only one.

Everyone would struggle for a while.

Some would struggle for longer.

Mia, my aunt's cat, jumped from the tallest tree right into the ceiling of my car, denting it. For freaking god, her seventeen-year-old Siamese housecat was half the size of a big cat. She carried a big bird and put it on the ground before Aunt Ophelia, who embraced this purring muscular house-cheetah into her massive breasts as nothing has ever changed between them, "I hope you treated Toby fairly, my lady," her meow sounded more of a roar to me.   

The big bird flew away, uninjured. By the wing span it had to be a mature female bird, any other age or gender I'd guess Mia's jaw would waste it.

Upstairs, I saw Toby the cat startled by the big bird's flyby, not quite believing the size of it. Hiding behind the curtains, he just peeked at his larger lady owners waving at him, curious but petrified, afraid to come outside and say hello.


...

lowerbase @ DA

Offline JerusalemTulip

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #18 on: September 05, 2017, 03:54:00 am »
There is certainly a familiar feel to this story for fans of your works, at least in relation to the position of men and the perspective that the story is being told from.  I'm always impressed that you manage to find new themes and twists to add to these world change stories though.  The 'mature woman' angle is a lot more palatable to me and perhaps some others this way.  With the caloric intake of most women increasing so dramatically, I wonder if Richard (and presumably other men) still had trouble feeding themselves beyond the initial days after Firebird?  Are they underweight?  Is everyone living off kelp and jellyfish?  Is the next generation of men not growing as tall or healthy as the previous?  Females of the other non photosynthesizing species are bigger too?  Will a point be reached where the only currency to pay for food you haven't grown or stashed away yourself is with bullets?  If its already been ten years, then probably not.  I'm not trying to poke holes with these musings.  I just find it difficult not to wonder if some one or thing sent Firebird with nefarious purposes in mind.

Anyway, great story.

Offline lowerbase

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #19 on: September 05, 2017, 04:19:31 am »
I feel that the first person view is the most effective for fantasies, from a 'neutral' kind of character.

Yes, here are some food shortages all over world, but it is temporary; first, it is only the female elderly population that is the real problem (around 10-15% of the population?), and second, yes, plants and animals had the same effects as humans, so productivity (and the economy yay!) grew in the same manner. Humanity found a new balance with it.

Firebird is a mystery. Might be from nature, aliens, god, no one knows. By this time, ten years later, people got tired of speculating about its origins and just accepted the world as it is. 

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Offline nickolai

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #20 on: September 06, 2017, 03:55:51 pm »
Love the flashbacks to when the women are first discovering their strength and abilities.  That tension and conflict that arises when the shifts in power are first occurring is what I like.  When muggers learn the hard way the consequences of their activities.  When men begin to be afraid to walk the streets alone.  In this case it appears that even walking the streets in groups would be useless against a single 65 year old, let alone an 80 year old woman.  When if running late, women begin to run along side and overtake cars on the streets and highways, perhaps causing the occasional accident, because they are faster.  They also don't bother stopping at traffic lights as they enjoy leaping over intersections or the challenge of weaving btw cars in intersections.

Great story and can't wait for more!  Even, BBTQ too!

Offline lowerbase

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #21 on: September 06, 2017, 07:42:52 pm »
thanks nickolai

one of the things I like in the concept is that you can tell her 'power level' by telling her age. In most 'amazon society' stories you'd need to either describe a character physically or wait for her to do something amazing to show her 'power level'. Just telling her age makes things much simpler for set-ups.

the only trouble about these heavy amazon women running that fast is the amount of destruction they'd leave behind. Concrete and pavement cannot handle a 70 year old lady sprinting over it.

very advanced ladies in their 70s and 80s need special care, I mean... special care from them.

you've always supported my stuff, and other writers/artists as well, and that's special.

I'm not sure if it is the theme or the quality, but after two weeks and 10k words later, and even artwork, it amassed the staggering Karma count of 2 (TWO)! I think that a couple of pictures of Alina Popa gives more karma than this.

Maybe if I described how Lenda Murray, Cory Everson, Laura Creavalle, Betty Pariso look like after the firebird it would gain more traction.

Not that I care about internet points, but after 4000 clicks and only one or two people bothered to press [applaud] has to say something. Maybe I'm playing for the wrong audience here.

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #22 on: September 06, 2017, 08:50:01 pm »
 :bravo: :woohoo:

Offline nickolai

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #23 on: September 06, 2017, 10:03:05 pm »
thanks nickolai

one of the things I like in the concept is that you can tell her 'power level' by telling her age. In most 'amazon society' stories you'd need to either describe a character physically or wait for her to do something amazing to show her 'power level'. Just telling her age makes things much simpler for set-ups.

the only trouble about these heavy amazon women running that fast is the amount of destruction they'd leave behind. Concrete and pavement cannot handle a 70 year old lady sprinting over it.

very advanced ladies in their 70s and 80s needs special care, I mean, special care from them.

you've always supported my stuff, and other writers/artists as well, and that's special.

I'm not sure if it is the theme or the quality, but after two weeks and 10k words later, and even artwork, it amassed the staggering Karma count of 2 (TWO)! I think that a couple of pictures of Alina Popa gives more karma than this.

Maybe if I described how Lenda Murray, Cory Everson, Laura Creavalle, Betty Pariso look like after the firebird it would gain more traction.

Not that I care about internet points, but after 4000 clicks and only one or two people bothered to press [applaud] has to say something. Maybe I'm playing for the wrong audience here.

The incidental destruction they cause just going about their daily activities is part of the learning process that the world is now populated by Titanesses with unbelievable power.  The concrete that crumbles beneath their feet doing things as simple as running.  Elevators that dip precariously when they step on board and lurch upwards as soon as they step out.  Metal stair cases that are bent, torn and rendered dangerous as they walk up and down.  Cars in parking lots that are knocked across several feet in a domino like chain reaction as a massive thigh of a woman not paying attention knocks against them or the semi truck driver in the hospital because he didn't see the 70 yr old woman crossing the street.  These incidents feed the egos of these women that they are ascending to something greater and necessitate that both men's attitudes and global infrastructure needs to change to accommodate them.   And I just happen to love reading them in stories as well.

On the karma thing, I used to give lots of karma but stopped doing so because I wasn't sure how it was used practically on the site.  I will begin again if authors use it as an indication of the audience's opinion.

Offline lowerbase

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #24 on: September 07, 2017, 01:03:39 am »
Yeah, unfortunately when a woman reaches a certain age, she is obligated to retire. Otherwise the safety in workplace (and the building) would be at risk.

Unless she is a CEO, a politician, or part of the military, it is too expensive to refit a whole old building for an advanced woman needs. By this time most governmental agencies created new urban standards to withstand, even if moderately, what these women are capable to do. the new projects for buildings and public transportation have to be much stronger and sturdy and taller to fit 8 feet tall ladies and floors that don't crumble or cave under their high heels. Only it takes a long time for the government to work, so until there, pretty much half of the city's construction work force is to fix the continuous damage these dames create. I'll try to describe later the city's new parks, places where advanced aged women can bring their families and friends for 'activities', a public space crafted for older ladies to stretch some muscles and put them to some use, since they cannot do exercises at home or at a gym without destroying it. It is the city's main attraction on Sundays.

   
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Offline Rs34

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #25 on: September 08, 2017, 05:13:43 pm »
The story is getting better and better! I can't wait to read next chapter where women are already well aware of the effect they have on men, with other words complete brainfck!

Offline nickolai

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #26 on: September 12, 2017, 03:38:12 pm »
Yeah, unfortunately when a woman reaches a certain age, she is obligated to retire. Otherwise the safety in workplace (and the building) would be at risk.

Unless she is a CEO, a politician, or part of the military, it is too expensive to refit a whole old building for an advanced woman needs. By this time most governmental agencies created new urban standards to withstand, even if moderately, what these women are capable to do. the new projects for buildings and public transportation have to be much stronger and sturdy and taller to fit 8 feet tall ladies and floors that don't crumble or cave under their high heels. Only it takes a long time for the government to work, so until there, pretty much half of the city's construction work force is to fix the continuous damage these dames create. I'll try to describe later the city's new parks, places where advanced aged women can bring their families and friends for 'activities', a public space crafted for older ladies to stretch some muscles and put them to some use, since they cannot do exercises at home or at a gym without destroying it. It is the city's main attraction on Sundays.

 

Haha ... getting hot hashing out that workplace safety requires that women retire at a certain age as they become super powerful.  Fun to think about the inconveniences suffered by world due to these women.  Traffic issues from broken roads and freeways to waits at elevators in office buildings either due to crushed buttons or structural issues to the elevators themselves.  I look forward to reading more about the gob smacking things these women do on Sundays and the ongoing experiences our narrator and others have in this world.

Keep up the great work!

Offline Circes_cup

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #27 on: September 21, 2017, 09:54:34 pm »
Really good story, as always, LB!

The storys speaks of the plight of younger women, how they are unable to attract attention given the competition from their more attractive elders.  I would think that patience would be come the guiding priciple of a young woman's life -- that she can use her early years to figure out which men she will allow into her life in later years, and which ones she will punish with her newfound strength.

I would also think that cooperation between generations would arise -- that a mother might decide to share one of her men with her lovelorn daughter (ie, he would have to spend time with daugther as a precondition of ever getting a chance to see mom).  And perhaps the daughter reciporicates by supporting the mother in other ways, such as serving as her appointment secretary or attending to other logistics of the house.

Either way, really good story!  I'm looking forward to a continuation.

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #28 on: September 22, 2017, 04:10:03 pm »
Odd that Richard doesn't realize he can date a desperate girl out of her education and have the luxury of watching her grow over the years, she may learn to not be satisfied by him but that'd probably only come around her 50's. Certainly better than being woman-handled and embarrassed to such a degree, plus he'd still get his fix of femuscle...in due time.

Anyway, I don't mean to sound like an arse, but my standards for good female muscle stories are pretty hard to meet. But I admit I love the way this one is going, good amount of downtime for explanation given for the new world and also good pacing for the juicy parts. Definitely hope to be seeing more, K+ my man.
FNG, Learning The Ropes, Guidance Appreciated.

"Good Luck Out There."

Offline Rs34

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Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
« Reply #29 on: October 26, 2017, 11:46:12 am »
Lowerbase how is the story going on? I will really like to read new chapters of this great story.  I can't thank you enough for all the great stories you wrote!

Forum Saradas  |  Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction  |  Muscular Women Fiction  |  Author: [lowerbase] The Unfair Game | #HG #FMG #Mature
 

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