Part Five (The Great Escape)
“Urgh… what the hell?”
I shivered as the room came into focus again. I was shivering and had felt like I had had a long, deep sleep- but it was disorientating for me. While everything was visually clear, it was still mentally fuzzy and I wasn’t sure what was going on.
I shook more as my eyes panned around the room and took everything in. Missy was still chained to the radiator, and tears were streaming down her face. Strangely, though, everything was very quiet. I expected Wendy to be flexing her massive muscles to intimidate me as I was waking up from my enforced slumber. All I make out, though, was a mirror on the wall opposite. I sat up and stared, shocked at what I could see. My nose had been knocked out of shape and bruises ran down my cheeks. I didn’t know exactly how hard she was mashing my face into her pectacular breasts- but it must have been incredibly hard.
I felt sick with fear and rose from the bed. Running to Missy, I tugged on the chains that held her captive. Her handcuffs were stuck fast. I kissed her on the lips and gave her as calm a look as I could muster.
“Missy, I’ll get you out of here. I swear it.”
She wailed louder, with a noise that could have woken the whole neighbourhood.
“SHH!” I said, putting my finger to her lips, in the hope that her mother wouldn’t stir from wherever she was.
…But it was too late. I could hear thudding footsteps upstairs, which stomped to the stairs and bounded down them. I leapt back to the bed and assumed a position that I felt I would have been in, had I not attempted to free Missy.
“Well, well, well. Mr No-lympia’s awake, is he?”
Her voice sent shivers down my spine, and confusingly, still managed to turn me on. She was wearing a tight fitting button down shirt and was holding another in her hand. I had a feeling that I knew what this second challenge was going to be.
Shirt ripping was a feat that I had always loved. Whether it was Wendy, Danielle Devious, or Laurie Steele, it never failed to get a ‘rise’ out of me and always made me happy. I loved to see bulging mounds of muscle snapping threads and tearing through clothes like tissue paper. The more shirts a woman could shred with her physique, the more I wanted her. Now, though, it was a challenge.
“I can see the cogs turning in your little mind, little man,” Wendy chuckled. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to shred a shirt. I don’t know why I’m bothering with this one, if I’m honest… because it’s so easy.”
She threw the second shirt onto the bed and immediately hit a bicep flex. BOOM. She grinned and exposed her pearly white teeth. Her biceps grew as she went further and further into the flex; the mound of meaty muscle for her bicep peaking and hardening until the shirt couldn’t resist. Threads popped in an instant and her sleeves split down the middle; exposing her beautiful and soft skin. “20inch biceps, baby. Years and years of hard work and dedication.”
She then turned and hit a lat spread. Her sides flared, expanding like a balloon that was being blown up. Instantly, the fabric tore apart down her sides and down her back, splitting from the bottom seem, right to the top, where the collar managed to just hang on, and was being tortured by the onslaught of her strength. With one extra flexing motion, the collar loudly snapped. The shirt was torn into several pieces and was hanging limply off her gigantic body.
Even though I was scared as hell, my penis throbbed inside my boxer shorts. This, as far as I was concerned, was always going to be one of my favourite feats and would always remain as a fetish within my mind.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Missy’s muscles ripple and flex as she tried to tug her handcuffs apart. This turned me on even more as veins on her arms popped up, expanding her biceps and triceps inch-by-inch as every second went by.
“Your turn, squirt. Oh, and no hands,” Wendy grinned, knowing that this would be a huge challenge for me. I had hulked out of shirts before- an ex girlfriend of mine used to love when I did it on webcam for her- but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t use my hands to help me along.
I slung the shirt over my shoulders and buttoned it up. I leaned back and took a deep breath, trying to pop the buttons on the front of the shirt. I gritted my teeth and pushed my stomach and chest out, trying with all my might. Out of force of habit, I tried to grip the sleeves of the shirt with my hands to make the buttons easier to pop.
“NO HANDS,” Wendy yelled, slapping my hands hard.
I recoiled in fear, but was unable to dodge her next move. She wrapped her hand around my throat and pinned me hard against the wall next to her daughter, who had stopped trying to get out of the handcuffs while she was looking.
“I SAID NO HANDS. Why do you think I’m doing this, Larry!? This isn’t for fun. If any guy dates my daughter, they NEED to be able to protect her. I don’t want a spineless, scrawny kid dating her, and making her fight his battles, instead of using his strength to help her fight hers!”
My adam’s apple was trapped right up against her fingers and the air supply was slowly being cut off by her immense grip. My heart beat faster. My breathing became deep. My eyes widened.
CRASH! Missy’s immense strength and effort allowed her to snap the radiator pipe that she was chained to. In a flurry of activity, she managed to punch her mother in the face with her handcuffed hands, grab me by the arm and tug me out of the room. She pulled me up the stairs to her room and told me to put a chair underneath the doorhandle to stop the door being opened.
There were still thumping sounds from downstairs, and we both gulped, looking deep into each other’s eyes in both love and fear. Her muscles, glistening with sweat, pulsated and throbbed from the strength of her earlier move, which ended up with the room downstairs becoming showered with hot radiator water.
I knelt down and took a look at her handcuffs; trying to find some way of getting them open to free her- but with all of Wendy’s noise and growing frustration from downstairs, it seemed like time was running out.
