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Forum Saradas  |  Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction  |  Muscular Women Fiction  |  +Notable Author: [Industrial Flesh] Stories~collected

Author Topic: +Notable Author: [Industrial Flesh] Stories~collected  (Read 69353 times)

Offline IBP

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Re: Industrial Flesh Sories
« Reply #15 on: December 17, 2012, 10:57:24 pm »
cont. -

Keith awoke with a terrible pain in his leg. As he came out of his tent he found that he had developed a limp overnight. "Fuck!" he hollered. Everyone around the morning campfire looked up dazed. Everyone else was already up and that kind of annoyed Keith.
"Aww, the Wittle Sleepyhead," cued Britney obnoxiously.
"Where ya been, Pal? Britney and Carmen already went for a swim this morning," cracked Martin merrily. The Wahlbergs all smiled pleasantly at Keith who sniffed back at them, looking for some bacon. Carmen smiled at the grumpy college guy who was still on college time, which meant 4am bedtimes and 2pm mornings. He felt like shit and was in no mood to try to impress her. He just looked at her, kind of aloof. She was sitting on the ground beside Britney who was perched on a rock. She was combing her wet hair and sunning herself.
Keith did a double take as he looked at his little sister who up to this point had never worn such revealing clothes. She wore tight spandex biker shorts and a little tank-top and she looked all built in the sporty outfit. Her legs were crossed and her back was arched. Her legs looked muscular. Her back was broad and buff. Her shoulders and arms were brawny. Britney had a body from hell. She was all thick everywhere. She had a bruising upperbody and her lower body was 100% diesel. Keith was staring at 143 pounds of teenage musclegirl on a 5'3" frame and he suddenly felt very afraid of the 15 year old dynamo who had obviously been pumping iron every day while he was away at college getting soft.
Britney watched her brother's face as he took her in. She watched his mouth drop and his eyes widen. Was that fear she saw in his eyes? She believed it was. She grinned at him mischeviously and said, "Yeah, you missed it. We were wrestling too."
"Oh my God, Keith, she was kicking my ass! Your sister is so strong," Carmen exclaimed. "Look at her muscles, Keith! I think her muscles are bigger than yours!"
"They are not!" Keith whined, very angered at the way Carmen was marveling at his little sister's physique.
"I think they are, aren't they?" Carmen asked turning to Britney.
"I don't know," Britney said, shrugging and making a muscle with her right bicep. She pumped her bicep into a swollen muscular ball.
"Oh my God, Keith! Look at that!" Carmen squealed. Britney looked at the plump rock on her arm and then up at Keith whose horrified expression delighted her. She flexed and relaxed her muscle, making it bounce for her onlookers.
"Can you do that, Keith?" Carmen asked, seeing that Keith was very uncomfortable.
"Why would I want to? It's stupid..." Keith didn't know what else to say.
"Keith make a muscle..."
"Come on...why not?"
"I don't feel like it."
"Yeah, your just afraid that Britney's muscle is bigger."
"I am not...Shut-up!"
"He's afraid..."
"He better be afraid of these guns," Britney bragged doing a double-bicep pose, causing Carmen to ooh and ah some more.
"Oh my God..." she said, feeling the younger girl's bursting biceps. "And look at her legs, Keith. Your legs are like twigs compared to Britney's!" Keith's face winced as she said this. "Look at that. Feel that," enthused Carmen, punching Britney's bulging thighs. "Those are muscles!"
"Yeah, I've got quads," Britney explained almost shyly. Keith's face was getting red. He stormed away to eat in his tent.
When he came out later he was limping very badly and the group still had many miles to go.
"What are we gonna do about Keith's limp?" Martin asked. "He can't walk the distance we have to go on it. It would be too painful." Donna looked at her husband perplexed. The Wahlbergs seemed stumped.

Then Britney smiled up at her parents and said, "Dad, Mom...I could carry Keith." The parents looked at their daughter, amused.
"Oh, Britney, that's very nice of you to offer, but I don't think it's very realistic."
"No, I can. Really. He's light. Remember how easily I was lifting him yesterday?"
"That's true. You did seem to have a firm handle on it."
"I can do it, Dad. Let me show you."
In a minute they had Keith's answer. "...No fucking way!" he yelled. "I'm not gonna let her..."
"Now Son, it's a perfectly viable solution. If your sister is willing to give it a shot I think we should let her. She seemed to carry you yesterday with no problem. In fact, she was pretty nifty with you, I thought."
"No, she wasn't. She was hurting herself and she was getting tired. I could tell..."
"I was not!"
"Yeah, it didn't look that way to me, Son. Let's give it a shot, okay? We've got nothing to lose. It's either that or I go back and get the car and you'll all have to wait here."
"Nooo," sang Britney. "Let me carry my brother. I'll carry him all the way back. It'll be easy because he's light."
"Well, then that settles it," Martin concluded.
In an hour, the group packed up and got under way. Keith tried to limp away from the group, still rebelling against the terribly embarrassing suggestion that his little sister carry him the rest of the way back. But Britney caught him and yanked him toward her. Then she scooped her skinny brother off his feet and heaved him on to her rock-hard back. Keith found himself astride a muscle-bound pony-girl who supported his weight with frightening ease. "I got the little gimpy boy," she sang. Everyone smiled and was very impressed by the strength of the buffed-up 15 year old who was very obviously the physical superior of her feeble brother. Her strong arms held his thin legs very supportively. Keith couldn't help feeling very secure. After all, Britney was a little hulk-girl. "How's your little leg?" she asked sweetly during the hike.
"It's okay," he grumbled.
"You're such a fragile boy," she joked. "You know, weight-training would help you with that..." As she walked, and Keith rode on her back, he watched her shapely legs carry him, hour after hour. He waited for her to fatigue, to pull a muscle, something ...Britney piggybacked her big brother 3 miles, straight, all the way back to the parking lot. When they got to the car, she set him down and just smiled at him.
Then Britney put her hands on her hips and eyed her brother mischeviously. Cute and muscular, the 15 year old felt like she could do anything. It was an incredible feeling being a short, strong girl who could intimidate her big brother. She loved being stronger than the older boy who trembled before her now. "You know, when your leg gets better, I want to wrestle you. Wrestling Carmen was fun, but she's just a weak girl. We'll see if I can hold my own against my big brother. That will be something..." Keith looked at his little sister's powerful legs, her plump butt, her burly arms. He looked at her squat, muscular build and shuddered. He was terrified of what she could do to him.

Offline caino

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Re: Industrial Flesh Sories
« Reply #16 on: December 18, 2012, 03:57:19 pm »
FANTASTIC!!!!!!!   I love "camping"..... there is a third part of it??

That's all for "camping", or at least all I have found.

Offline IBP

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Re: Industrial Flesh Sories
« Reply #17 on: April 19, 2013, 10:41:13 am »
Sorry if the formatting is a bit off, I was probably scrounging this one from some hacked up webpage off

Alisa Lifts Weights With Her Legs
by Industrial Flesh

I'd been friends with Alisa for a long time. We'd practically grown up together. We always had a lot of jokes together and she was a really cool girl. Still, we'd always just been friends. First of all, she was 2 years younger and second of all, it was just one of those things where she'd been a friend of the family and I just didn't think of her in any other way.
About a year ago, Alisa began to get really cute. By 10th grade, she was one of the best looking girls in high school. She had long, honey-blond hair and gorgeous green eyes. She had the most adorable little mouth. Her lips were curled in a perpetual pout of perfection. She'd always been a pretty skinny girl too, but she'd recently gotten more voluptuous and it looked good on her.
We were sitting in the den watching TV. She was wearing a little white top and a short skirt. It was tight on her and she looked pretty sexy. I thought her legs looked kind of strong. They were very shapely and tight.
"Alisa, you look kind of strong," I said, gesturing to her lower body.
"Yeah, well, I've been lifting weights with my legs..."
"Oh...," I blurted out, surprised.
" firm up..." she explained, almost apologetically.
"No, looks good."
She smiled shyly. "You really think so?"
"I've gotten strong too."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. I bet I could beat you up," she exclaimed playfully, needling me with one finger in my ribs.
I forced a little laugh, but I didn't quite think it was funny. I knew she was only joking, but I couldn't help responding half-seriously.
"I don't know, there, Alisa. I am on the wrestling team."
"No, I know, Paul. I was just kidding."
Her eyes squinted as she smiled. I looked at her and that stared back at the TV. I folded my arms, uncomfortably at the sudden silence. A few more minutes of silence went by as we both pretended to watch the stupid MTV videos that were on.
"You're not that strong," I finally said. "I am a wrestler."
"No, I know..."
"So...what?...You actually think you're so strong?"
"Alright fine. Let's see. What do you wanna do? You been lifting with your legs, so you wanna leg wrestle?"
"No. Come one. Let's go. I wanna see."
Alisa paused for a moment. "Well...okay..." She slipped off her shoes. I admired her sturdy ankles. Alisa had sexy ankles. We layed down on our backs, side-by-side. My head was where her feet were and vice versa. Then we locked legs just above the knee. I saw that her thighs and calves were larger.
"You say go..." I offered.
I began to push as hard as I could. But Alisa pushed back much harder. I could feel the strain in my leg right away as I tried to push back against her leg. Her leg felt so heavy. Her leg bent mine right over very forcefully. I grunted as she crushed my leg to the floor. "Whoa," I blurted out as the force of her leg nearly rolled my whole body backwards. "That's...that's strong..." I was pretty embarrassed by the way she had beaten me. Alisa just grinned at me. It was still a shy grin.
"Can I try a hold on you?" she asked, trying to hide her enthusiasm.
"Uhh...I don't know, Alisa. I am a wrestler and I don't wanna end up hurting you by accident or something."
" can be really careful, can't you? I wanna see if you can get out of my hold."
"Well, what hold?" I asked curiously.
"My brother said I have a good scissors."
"Oh. Well, alright..."
Alisa squatted up from the floor and bounced over to the couch. She sat down and spread her nicely-muscled legs wide apart. I walked over to her and sat down at her feet.

"Face me," she commanded. I turned around and looked up at her. She smiled sweetly. Then she straightened her legs and placed them on both my shoulders. Her legs bent slightly at the knees as she crossed one leg over the other. She locked her ankles behind me and I felt my head and neck suddenly trapped, very tightly. "Now see if you can get out," she said with a half-serious expression on her cute face. I grabbed her thighs and tried to pull them apart. I couldn't. I couldn't move her legs at all. They were locked tightly and she was slowly crushing my head.

I pulled and pulled, but it was no use. Alisa's weight-trained leg muscles were too strong. Still, I didn't want her to know that. "Pretty tight, huh?" she said. I didn't say anything. I was still trying to figure a way out so I wouldn't have to. "Do you give?" she asked. I wasn't about to give this younger girl the satisfaction. No way was I going to give.

"No..." I said quietly.
"Are you sure? You look pretty trapped there."
"I'm gonna get out," I boasted, though I had no idea how.

Alisa's legs were thick and strong and from this position I had absolutely no leverage. This situation was quickly becoming very embarrassing. Why had I agreed to it?

"I can make it tighter, you know," she informed me threateningly. Then she slid her thighs forward so my head was up higher in them. I watched her harden her leg muscles so they expanded into my neck. I swallowed my saliva very loudly. It was embarrassing. It was getting tougher to breathe too.

I grabbed her ankles behind me and tried to pull them apart. They didn't budge. Still, I kept tugging. They had to get tired eventually. "What if I do this?" she asked and then she grabbed each one of my wrists and pulled my arms up away from her legs. I tried to pull out of her grasp, but she had a really strong grip. I couldn't control my arms. She was restraining them. Now I was completely at her mercy. "I got ya now, don't I."

I tried to turn my head, twist out of her strong scissors. But I couldn't really and it hurt to try. Actually, my head was hurting quite a bit and I could feel my face turning red. "Do you give?" she asked, again.

Alisa, still holding me in her legs, rolled off the couch so she was resting comfortably on her side on the floor. She looked down at my pained face and smiled. She petted my hair in a gentle, taunting fashion. "Paul, are you okay?" I finally wrenched my arms free of her hands and grabbed at her legs again. She responded by clenching tighter with her legs. It was too tight, now and I could feel my face turning purple. I looked up at her desperately, too ashamed to say anything. "What's the matter, Mr. Wrestler?" she asked in mock-concern. Then she giggled. She tightened her legs just a little and I screamed. She had humiliated me. I blacked out.


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Re: Industrial Flesh Sories
« Reply #18 on: July 01, 2013, 10:02:48 am »
“Okay. Whoever gets here first, gets the car for the evening tonight. I laughed. It was an obvious gag. Not only was I much closer to the stoop, but of course, I was the one who could drive being that my sister was only in 9th grade.
I laughed for a moment and then I rushed toward my father. My sister was walking on her hands at that moment, but she sprang to her feet in a hurry and throttled toward the stoop as well. I was surprised by how fast she was. She was in high gear in just three steps and she was very explosive as her thighs pumped up and down forcefully. I was a little surprised to find us both arrive at the door at virtually the same time. I told myself I had gotten there first, but I was not honestly sure. My father seemed surprised as well. “Uhh…I’m not sure…I don’t…I think that was too close to call…”
“We tied,” my sister said, matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, I guess you did,” agreed my father, still a little bewildered.
“I think she had a head-start,” I suggested, searching for an explanation.
“I did not. You were the one who was closer.”
“That is true, Alex,” intoned my dad.
“Well, we should just race again,” I asserted. “Starting from the same spot so everything is even.” My sister nodded in agreement.
“Okay,” my dad said. “Why don’t you two start at the end of the street and make the finish line the beginning of the driveway?”
“That’s cool,” I said. My sister studied the distance for a moment and consented to the race as well. As we walked to the end of the block, I messed with her just for fun. “Come on, Meagan, you can’t really race me. You ain’t got any speed.”
“I do too,” she piped.
“You do not. You’re slow as a towtruck.”
“I’m not slow.”
“You’re slow. You’re freaking slow, Meagan. Face it. I’ve got the speed, Baby. You a slow fool,” I chided. I laughed at my own obnoxiousness. Well, it was true, I was the speed demon, not her. Hell, she even looked slow, being a short, stocky girl. When we reached the dead end of our street, we placed our feet side by side. My father stood at the beginning of our driveway. He shouted, “Ready! Get set! Go!”
The distance must have been about 40 yards and we were off in a split second. I flew down the street feeling light as a bird. Racing my younger sister wasn’t exactly my idea of a great physical challenge so I wanted to beat her by a lot. As we raced down the street together, I tried to separate from her, but I could see her matching me stride for stride and she was not slowing. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her somewhat big thighs pumping forcefully. The muscles in her thighs were explosive giving her more and more power in her strides. Her explosive legs carried her past me after about 20 yards. I gasped in shock, seeing her hard, round butt in her little shorts, firing out in front of me, leaving me behind, leaving me jogging in place almost. By the time we reached the driveway, she had gained a significant lead and beaten me fairly easily it seemed.
I sputtered across the finish line, mortified by my performance against my sister. I stopped and paced for a few seconds, trying to catch my breath. I stared at Meagan, too stunned to speak. “I beat you,” she said proudly. “You always think you’re so fast, but I’m faster.” She stood beside my father, her thighs bulging with muscularity. I stared at her fat legs. It was the first time I noticed how muscular they were. They looked stronger than my legs. They were thicker and more ripped. This girly-girl teeny-bopper’s legs were muscular as hell.
My father didn’t know what to say about the outcome. Clearly, he was expecting me to win. “Uhh…I guess Meagan won,” he stammered.
“So I get the car tonight?” she piped.
“Well, Meagan…” my father started.
“I won. I get the car.”
I couldn’t let this happen before I knew what I was saying, my mouth was moving, “You didn’t freaking win, Meagan. I just ran a bad race. Let’s go again. I’ll show you what real speed is.” Meagan shrugged at this. “Okay.” So we walked back to the end of the street and tried it again. My father said, “Ready! Set! Go!” And round two began.
Again, after 15 paces or so, I found myself losing ground to my sister’s awesome speed. Her whopping, muscular legs and her powerful rear were just too strong for me to stay with her. My legs turned to jelly as I tried in vain to keep up. My legs strained and strained, but my sister was too powerful. Meagan’s lower body was just superior. I’d never thought of Meagan as being such a strong, invincible runner. I knew she ran track, but I didn’t know she was so powerful.
Losing again so decisively to my sister proved I really was no match for her. What was demoralizing was knowing that she was beating me because her legs were stronger. Speed had always been my edge in athletics, but Meagan was more powerful than me. I couldn’t believe she was the one with the edge. Running track had apparently built up her legs in a way that made them very muscular. Her legs were bigger, harder and better shaped than mine. Meagan was much stronger and faster. I couldn’t believe a younger teenage girl could defeat me physically like this. I didn’t know how to feel about it, but I tried to fight back the shame I felt.
My father smiled awkwardly. It was obvious he was embarrassed for me. As Meagan bounded powerfully over to him, I think even he saw that his 15 year old daughter had bigger legs than his 18 year old son. How could he not see those muscles rippling from her thighs as she galloped to him. “Well, I’m going to go inside,” he said, leaving. Meagan bounced up and down in front of me, her quads pulsing as she jumped. “You have to drive me where ever I want tonight,” she cheered.
“No,” I boomed.
“Yes. I won. I get the car.”
“I don’t think so, Meagan.”
“You have to drive me.”
“Dream on,” I said and walked away feeling angry and embarrassed.
“That’s not fair,” she called after me.
        The following week, my friends and I were in the back yard, playing tackle football. It was fun except for the fact that some of the guys on the other team, like Bob, were just a little too big for me to handle. I couldn’t really tackle Bob and when Bob hit me, I just went flying. Also, I had gotten pretty out of shape over the past year and I was just too tired to play at my peak level. In baseball, I could get away with not being in
perfect condition. Football was a different story.
It was a 5 on 5 game, but then Tim on my team had to go home. We were all really pissed. We argued for several minutes over how we could make new teams and who would be automatic QB now that we had an uneven number of people. Then Mark suggested that my sister play on our team. I glanced over at her. She had been on the deck for almost an hour, doing calisthenics. Now she was doing chin-ups on the swing-set. Why the hell did she have to exercise so hard? It made me uneasy. I had been avoiding her ever since she beat me in the race last week. I felt really uncomfortable around her and did not want her playing in our football game. I shook my head. “No way. No girls.”
“Come on, Alex. We need someone.”
“Automatic QB,” I said firmly.
“Auto Q sucks and you know it, Alex. Let’s just let Meagan play and then we can keep the same teams. Tim wasn’t that good anyway. How bad can she be?”
“She’ll suck. She doesn’t even know how to play football.”
“I do too. I know how to play football,” Meagan said, leaping down off the swing set and storming over to us. She was in little shorts that displayed her big thighs and the rippling muscles she had there. She was sockless in her new running shoes. She wore a sleeveless shirt with “00” on it and her shoulders and arms looked pumped and defined. “@#%$, she looks jacked,” remarked my friend, Kevin.
I rolled my eyes, but I was out-voted. Meagan was on our team. Bob’s team was starting to run away with the game and our passing game was stalled. We agreed a running play would surprise the defense and get us back on track. We were all pretty tired except for Meagan. The idea was that if we all blocked really well, Meagan could gain some yardage for us, maybe even the first down. “What do you want me to do?” she asked seriously. We told her to go outside right. Then we broke from the huddle.
Mark pitched the ball back to my sister and we all pulled right. Meagan swept up the right sideline, blowing past me on the corner. Her shockingly powerful legs were a sight as she chugged faster and faster The other team reacted quickly to the trick play, but they were totally ambushed by Meagan’s speed. The muscular girl’s wicked acceleration left everyone grasping at air. Meagan raced down the sideline, going 60 yards for a touchdown. Everyone on the field was baffled. The score was now 7-5 and we were down by 2.
Then we explained to Meagan about defense and kicked off to the other team. I was flying down the inside track to nail Johny, the ball carrier, when Meagan rocketed out in front of me. She blasted into Johny so hard, we all thought she’d killed him. His neck snapped back and his limp body went flying, limbs sprawled, torso up-ended. He couldn’t hold on to the ball, of course, but lucky for them, they still recovered. Everyone admired Meagan’s brutal lower-body which was obviously not just for show. This well-built 15 year old was very strong. She could hit like a wrecking ball.
On the next play, Bob took the ball and rammed it up the gut. He had been doing this all day and I’d had enough of getting run over by him. Rather than trying in vain to stop him, I got out of the way. To my surprise, Meagan filled the gap and exploded up into him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Her legs cranked up down with terrible force. Her big calves tensed as she dug in. Her quads bulged as she strained. As I watched this, my jaw dropped. Meagan grunted ferociously as she drove Bob backwards. He gasped as he felt himself dominated by the girl’s tremendous leg drive. Her legs kept right on pumping until she was plowing him into negative yardage. By the time Meagan crushed him to the ground, Bob had lost more than 10 yards. And the look on his face was one of disbelief.
A few plays later, she tackled him again. This time, she was so strong with him, it seemed to sap him of whatever energy he had in the game. Bob was not the same player after that. He had always been the big bully on the block. Not so any more. Meagan’s thighs were bigger than his and she showed him what that meant. I think even he was intimidated by her bulging quadriceps. I watched with grudging admiration as the steel-muscled track girl broke poor Bob. My 15 year old sister treated him like a bitch and that’s what he became. Soon he was skulking around the field, nervously and not getting in on any plays at all.
A short pass on the next play yielded few yards as Meagan pounced on Greg and wrapped him up in a dominant bear hug. She slung him to the ground so hard she knocked the wind out of him. He wept as he tried to get his breath back. The play after that we told Meagan to blitz. She was so quick and powerful, no one could block her and she was on the QB in seconds. She wrapped him up in a crushing tackle that left him teary-eyed and holding his ribs. What a strange predicament it was: my sister was playing too hard. She was too physical and too rough for us. But who of the nine boys on the field was going to admit that? No one would dare admit that a 15 year old girl was too strong for him. No one wanted to seem like a wimp.
But with Meagan patrolling from sideline to sideline, pulverizing whoever had the ball, our defense was suddenly awesome. Then we got the ball back and after a few passing plays failed, we turned to the blossoming superstar on our team. “What do you want me to do?” Meagan asked. We handed it off to her and watched her smash through the defense for 25 yards. We gave it to her again and she rumbled for another 30. With 4 guys hanging on, the muscular track girl powered her way another 15 before going down. Meagan’s big thighs pumped up and down so powerfully, she dragged people and knocked people down.
The other team soon looked in bad shape, what with the beating they were taking from my sister’s punishing runs. Anyone who tried to tackle Meagan paid a price each time she ran the ball. Her strong, muscular running-style was bludgeoning them and pounding on them in a way you don’t expect to come from a younger girl. I could see my friends getting all sorts of little injuries. I could see a few guys limping back to the huddle. Johny was holding his hand in pain. Phil massaged his neck with a grimace on his face. I could see Richard fighting back tears after Meagan trampled him like an angry bull.
Meanwhile, after each run, Meagan hopped up like it was nothing. It was so obvious, she had the rugged-muscled bod to take a pounding like this and keep coming back for more. She had the muscle and the stamina to be the workhorse we were making her. And it was a truly disquieting feeling knowing that we could depend on my younger sister to be such a workhorse. I could feel my whole team relaxing as we realized Meagan could easily carry us to victory, she was so strong and in shape. Her brute strength and her raw athleticism was unparalleled on the field. Her full, hard muscles made her an unstoppable force on offense and defense. It was a comfort to know we could just hand off to her as much as we needed and she would rip through the other team’s helpless defense.
It felt weird and yet I was slowly giving myself over to the fact that Meagan was a physical powerhouse. A tough, muscular, in-shape brute who was stronger than me and stronger than my friends. It was hard to tell if she even knew how physically dominant she was over the rest of us. She seemed so naïve about it, but I guess she had to know. How could she not?
Meagan finished the drive with a 30 yard touchdown scamper. She pummeled the other team’s offense and then went back to work for us running the ball. She scored on runs of 45 yards, 93 yards and 74 yards. Then on a 55 yarder. Finally she torched them when she powered 99 yards, the length of the field, running over 3 of my friends before she turned on the afterburners and left everyone else in the dust. Everyone stared in quiet awe. My friends on the other team were exhausted, beat up and very pissed off. After we were winning 12 to 7, they gave up and said they had to go home.
Meagan cheered and started doing backflips across the lawn to celebrate. Then she bounded over to me and tackled me playfully. But she was still too rough. She was so forceful, I twisted my ankle when she hit me. My whole left leg felt crippled.
“Ow! Meagan!” I screamed in agony.
“Alex, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“I think I hurt my ankle,” I whined, gritting my teeth, trying not to cry.
“Can you walk?” she asked, innocently.
“I don’t think so.”
“I’ll take you in the house,” Meagan said, with a sympathetic look on her face. “Get on my back,” she commanded. I staggered to my feet and hopped over to my sister. I jumped up on her back and she pulled my legs up high so they were securely wrapped around her waist. I leaned over on her back and relaxed. I sighed comfortably. She felt really good, so solid and strong. She held me nice and steady and walked with me so easily. I’d never felt like such a sissy in my life. It was so emasculating knowing my sister was stronger and more muscular than me. But there was nothing I could do about it. Acceptance was my only recourse. My friends all watched me lifted and carried by my sister for a moment. I could see they were very wierded out and they all quickly looked away.
She carried me into the house and then swung me in front of her so she was carrying me in her strong arms. I never felt so light in my life. Meagan was so @#%$ strong. I could feel her round, firm biceps under my knees. She pulled me closer into her chest, gripping me forcefully and crushing me slightly. It was so embarrassing.
As she carried me, I guess she could sense my unease. She grinned and told me I felt light. When we got upstairs, she actually carried me into the bathroom and placed me on the scale. We discovered that I was 5’9” and a shameful 138 pounds. Then Meagan stepped on the scale and showed me how much she weighed. At 5’2” she was 154 pounds. She laughed to discover that she now weighed more than her older brother.
Then she scooped me up and took me into my room. She placed me gently on the bed and plopped down beside me. I sat there, silently ashamed. I looked at her bigger thighs next to mine, popping with muscular bulges, those awesome, in-shape legs that had humiliated me and my friends. I looked at her strong, defined arms and shoulders, much more built than mine. Again, that strange feeling came over me that I had to accept it. My sister was bigger and stronger and faster than me.
Meagan now seemed fully aware that she was beefier than me and harder-muscled. And she could see how I was noticing this; she could see my embarrassment, my humiliation. She kicked her big legs up and down, swinging them around energetically, showing me her muscularity and seeming delighted by my unease. Her brawny shoulders and arms made her seem even more like a tough jock. My male ego was crushed now and forever. The circumstances between me and Meagan was total gender role reversal. She suddenly seemed like a confident macho, muscular girl. I was the cowering, weak sissy and Meagan was the proud, physical dynamo. I never felt the same around my sister again. From then on I respected her.
She looked at me and giggled, happily.


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Re: Industrial Flesh Sories
« Reply #19 on: July 01, 2013, 09:34:20 pm »
...Just then, the D.J. of the party stated a new game everyone was to participate in. It was announced that every usher must arm-wrestle his date to determine who could come up and get wedding cake. Ted and Alison both looked at each other and laughed.
"Now that's a new one," he joked.
"Yes. Very new, " she agreed.
"Where do you think they came up with that?"
"I don't know," she shrugged, looking at him and smiling. But men and women around the party started getting into position. Ted looked around at them, but he seemed hesitant. He gave Alison a skeptical look. "Are they serious?"
Alison looked around at everyone getting to it. People were starting to arm-wrestle. "I guess so," she said, looking at Ted curiously.
"I mean, if we don't want to...if we think it's just silly." Alsions was quite. He watched her carefully. "I mean you don't want to, do you?"
She made a little shrug with her shoulders. "I don't care." Ted was still stalling. It was an odd position to be in. It wasn't that he was afraid to arm-wrestle Alison. He wasn't. He was confident he would win. But Alison had been going to the gym a lot lately. She was on the machines and she used free weights. He used to be a good athlete back in school, but he had not been training for several years now and he was seriously out of shape. His fear was that he would not beat her easily. He was afraid she could give him quite a fight and even that might be embarrassing.
Ted looked at his girlfriend in her pretty bride's maid dress. He could see her thighs were fatter than his and they curved up to her knees where hard tendons protruded underneath. Her calves were big and very solid. He noticed the definition in her calves when she walked. Her calves flexed like steel with each step she took. She had killer legs. He had to admit, her legs looked stronger than his.
Suddenly, Billy, the groom was standing over them. "Come on, you two. No cake until you wrestle. Those are the rules."
"Well, maybe we don't want cake," Ted suggested.
Billy looked at Alison and grinned. "You want cake, don't you?" Alison nodded at him, smiling shyly. "Okay then. Let's go. Right now." He clapped his hands as he walked away. Ted looked back at Alison, unenthusiastically.
"Well, I guess we should just get it over with then, right?"
Alison smiled pleasantly. "Okay."
As they lay down on their stomachs on the carpteted floor and grabbed hands, Ted felt a little silly. But when he looked at Alison's shoulder and bicep, he became really worried. Her shoulder was as big as his and it was more defined. Her bicep muscle was thick and rounder than his. Alison was bigger than he thought, like she'd bee hitting the gym very seriously. Her body looked extremely worked out and Ted felt less and less sure of himself as he looked at her.
She just looked at him casually. She could tell he was concerned and she guessed he was right to be. She too, saw that she was more muscular than him now. She loved working out with weights and she loved having strong muscles. Her legs had been stronger than his for a while. Now even her arms and shoulders and back looked stronger than his. She thought Ted looked small and soft and she wondered if he was really as weak as he looked. Ted smiled, awkwardly, trying to make light of the situation. "Uhh...You look good, Honey. I guess you've been working out a lot, huh?"
"Uh-huh," she said cheerfully.
"Are you ready?" Ted asked, bracing himself.
"Sure. You an go whenever you want," she informed him. Ted wanted to differ the headstart to his girlfriend, but the doubt he felt from her impressive muscles, made him accept her offer. He started pushing suddenly, hoping to surprise his girlfriend.
Ted poured in with all his might, but Alison's arm stayed where it was. He gritted his teeth and grunted and strained, but he could do nothing against Alison's tensed up muscle ball bicep. Her muscle was too strong and he was too weak to challenge it. She held him there for several seconds, smiling as she felt his weak effort. Then she pushed back using more of her strength and she bent the poor boy's arm down in a few seconds. He sighed in pain as he tried to resist. He was surprised she was so strong that she could hurt him like this. But she could. She was strong in a way that he could not handle. And his efforts only brought injury and shame.
Alison pinned her boyfriend's arm to the floor with terrible force. She pressed him into the wood very hard, just to make him know how strong she was. "Ow..." he sighed, looking at her for pity.
"Oh, Ted. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" she asked, letting up on his meek arm.
"Yeah..." he grumbled, squirming his hand out of her tight grip. She smirked at his little arm withdrawing from her.
"I guess I'm a little bit stronger than you, eh, Honey?"
" some ways maybe."
She raised her eyebrows. "In some ways?"
"Um. Yeah. I think so."
"You don't think I'm just stronger, period?"
"Uhh...My guess is that in some ways you may be stronger and in some ways I'm stronger.
Alison was about to get annoyed and burst his bubble, by challenging his denial, but then she changed her mind. "Well, I'm not sure I get what you mean by that. Maybe you'll have to show me some time. Okay?"
Ted eyed her with suspicion. She was acting weird, strangely detached and with a mock-innocence in her voice.
"Yeah. Sure," he said, carefully.
"Tonight, we should just continue having a good time."
"Of course."
"Cool. I'm going to go get my wedding cake now. Should I bring you a piece?"
"Um. That would be great."
"Okay, Hon." She sprang from the table and got on line for cake with the other victors of the arm-wrestling contests. Ted looked around and noted that he was the only usher who had lost to a bride's maid. He tried not to feel like wimp. He tried.

Offline IBP

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Re: Industrial Flesh Sories
« Reply #20 on: July 18, 2013, 03:02:26 am »
Oh my god... industrial was a fucking genius. Big K for you s0ltan for finding these.

Ditto on both counts. So glad to see some I couldn't find. Any chance of telling us where you found these? Or titles?

Offline Brfan

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Re: +Notable Author: [Industrial Flesh] Stories~collected
« Reply #21 on: January 20, 2019, 02:51:18 pm »
This guy was the best.
There are 2 stories of him: "Mariana in control" and "A detailed wrestling story" that I cannot find anywhere... does someone have those?

Offline mattu

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Re: +Notable Author: [Industrial Flesh] Stories~collected
« Reply #22 on: January 18, 2022, 12:23:56 pm »
Industrialflesh was SUPER! And I also know that story Marianna in control. About a soccer playing brother and sister. They have a match, sis wins and carries bro back home. Would like to read it again!

Offline Biceptual

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Re: +Notable Author: [Industrial Flesh] Stories~collected
« Reply #23 on: January 18, 2022, 01:27:34 pm »
Mariana is in Control
Ron Krajeski stood on the sideline. A small crowd cheered in the stands behind him. Friends and other various people from school approached him constantly. They wanted to talk about his season and his goals and his next game. He was the starting center forward on the boys’ varsity soccer team. As a senior, he had been voted All-County for the third straight year. He was one of the best players in his division and he was the best damn player his Clear Brook High had ever had.
But now he was watching the girls’ varsity, which was up by 4 goals. His sister, Mariana, only in 9th grade, was already a starter. Ron smirked when he first heard this. He figured the varsity had to be pretty weak to make a freshmen girl their center halfback. But Mariana, having gone to the same soccer camps each summer that Ron did, had become a very valuable player on her team. She was nowhere near the impact player that her older brother was, but she had good skills and she was athletic and her coach loved her play-making ability. Mariana had 1 assist and 1 goal in this game and there was still 20 minutes left.
“Too bad they can’t play you in the girls’ league too,” joked an assistant principal standing nearby. “They’d be up 10 goals by now.” Ron smiled at the compliment. He was not embarrassed by such remarks. He knew he was great and felt he deserved this level of praise.
He stared at the field once again. The girls looked crisp and colorful in their red and white uniforms, sleeves rolled up, clad in tight shorts, socks pulled neatly to the knees to hold their shin guards in place.
Mariana was suddenly on the ball, dribbling up the center of the field. She faked out an opponent, niftily rolling the ball around the challenging defender. She passed the ball to the wing, who took it to the corner. Then Mariana made a run toward the goal. The wing crossed it to the center forward, but the ball bounced off her hip and popped out of the box. It flew toward Mariana who stood, planted 20 yards out, waiting. She pivoted on her left foot and swung her right leg in a roundhouse kick. Connecting with the ball, still hanging in the air, Mariana blasted it into the back of the net, high and in the left corner. Her powerful kick sent the ball with such velocity that the goalie had no time to react. Everyone cheered on the sideline. Mariana’s teammates grabbed her and hugged her. Time ran out on the game quickly after this play.
Later the girls celebrated on the sideline. The coach made a proud speech. Then the players began to change and head home.
Mariana plopped on the bench and peeled down her socks and shin guards. Her big calves were sweaty and huge. She swung them up on the bench so they spread flat to their maximum muscular width. Ron stared uneasily. The elastic sock marks on her bare skin only made her tough, chunky muscles look more brawny and solid. She stood up and slipped her wide feet into her flip-flops. She squatted down, looking for something under the bench, her shorts growing tight on her round backside. She slid it on to the bench again after she found her hairclip. She put her brown hair up in a ponytail.
Ron sat down on the bench beside her and cracked, “You sucked out there.”
She turned and smiled at him. “Aren’t you proud of me?” she asked.
“Proud? Heh Heh… I would have gotten a hat trick,” he scoffed. “That’s three goals in one game, in case you didn’t know.” He was wearing jeans, but he could see Mariana’s thighs were bigger than his. Between her 27-inch thighs and 17-inch calves, she could not have fit her meaty legs into a pair of his pants, that was for sure. Mariana was pleased to see her brother noticing her legs, which were clearly more muscular than his. At 5’5” and 152 pounds, she was shorter and stouter. He was lean at 5’9” and 143.
“Coach says I’m going to make All-County this season.”
“That’ll make two of us.”
“But you didn’t make it your freshmen year...” Mariana pointed out.
“Hey, don’t even try to compare yourself to me. I’ve had the greatest soccer career in this school. Face it, Mariana, your big brother’s a living legend.”
“Oh yeah? Well, maybe I could be a living legend too.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’ll go against you right now,” Mariana challenged.
“Sure, Mariana.”
“I will.”
“Mariana, I would smack you down so fast, you wouldn’t believe it.”
“Well, maybe I could smack you down...” Mariana said, not sounding all that confident. “How about...loser has to piggyback the winner home.”
Ron pondered this for a moment. “Fine, let’s go right now. I’ll kick your ass in any contest you want.” Ron was already wearing his soccer flats, which would do just fine on the field’s dry grass. Mariana was slightly sorry she had boasted to her big brother in this way. She knew he was an amazing soccer player and she couldn’t hope to beat him in any kind of one-on-one soccer contest. But it was too late to back out now. Without putting her socks back on, she slipped into her cleats and laced up. A few people still in the park watched the contest with amusement.
They agreed first to a contest of accuracy. Who could hit the left goal post from the 18-yard line the most times out of 10. Ron nailed it 9 times out 10. Mariana hit it 6. “Yeah, look at you...talking smack,” Ron gloated, proudly. Mariana put her hands on her hips, defiantly and said, “Well...well I bet maybe I could kick farther than you.”
“In your dreams,” her brother chewed. They each took a ball and placed them beside the other at the top corner of the penalty box. Ron took a few steps back and to the left so he could hook it just right. He took his steps and slammed the ball solidly. It flew almost to the midline before it hit the ground and then it rolled another 10 yards. Ron folded his arms and glared at Mariana. “Good luck, Spaz.” He called her that sometimes. She was kind of clumsy and he loved to tease her about it.
Mariana took 8 steps back from the ball. She did not move to the side like her brother had. She never hooked when she kicked. Instead, she approached the ball head-on, her legs pumping as hard as she could. Her right foot blasted the ball into the air with a booming thud that sounded very satisfying. Mariana had a leg and she launched the ball into orbit. It looked like an airy marshmallow as it floated higher and higher towards the clouds. It was quickly evident that Mariana’s kick had more height and more distance than her brother’s kick. It was still going up when it sailed over the midline. When the ball hit the ground, it was at the other 18-yard line. It rolled further and stopped just short of the opposing goal.
“Holy @#%$! That girl’s got a leg,” exclaimed a curious spectator. Mariana smiled proudly at her brother. “See?” she said snottily. “I have a stronger leg than you.”
“That doesn’t mean crap,” Ron shot back angrily. “Let’s go one-on-one now. You have to dribble it into the goal.” He dribbled a ball out to the midfield circle. Mariana trotted after him. They faced off. “You’re dead meat,” he growled. Then his loose body bobbed and weaved to the right, rolling the ball, effortlessly along with his right foot. In a sudden burst of speed, he flew down the right sideline. Mariana chased after him. But Ron was too fast. He outran her to the goal and dribbled his way in.
He passed the ball back to his sister and it was her turn to start with the ball. She drove forward and then stopped, bracing her back to him. She plodded backwards into him, leaving the ball under her left leg and shielding him with her back. She spun, niftily and tried to race passed him. Ron was on her like white on rice. She ran her heart out to get away, but she didn’t have the speed and Ron laughed as he stayed with the galloping girl. “You’re slow as a tow truck,” he cracked.
Ron went in for the tackle, sticking his right leg where the ball was. But his slim legs became entangled with Mariana’s muscular trunks. Her legs pumped up and down powerfully, totally unhindered by Ron’s thin leg in her path. Ron tripped violently over the solid girl and went flying. He landed on his back with a thump. He scrambled to his feet, but by the time he caught up to Mariana, she was dribbling into the goal. “1 to 1,” she sang.
It burned Ron up that she had even scored. In a fit of anger, he took the ball from the midline and dashed to his left. Before he could get into full stride, Mariana dove in for a slide tackle. Her strong-legged lunge smashed Ron’s legs out from under him and jarred the ball loose behind him. Mariana leaped to her feet and was on the ball before Ron could get up. Ron chased her down, but once again, it was too late. She had scored again. “2 to 1,” Mariana sang, obnoxiously.
“You tripped me! There’s no @#%$ tripping!” Ron shouted.
“I didn’t mean to trip you. I can’t help it if you’re always falling down.”
The spectator on the sideline called, “It was a clean play!” Ron stared over at the older gentleman, fuming. He took the ball and put a combination of moves and fakes that had Mariana struggling to keep up. Ron moved passed her and dribbled into the net.
Now Mariana took the ball and started up the middle of the field. Ron took her on with a full head of steam. He rushed aggressively at her, expecting her to swerve, but to his surprise, Mariana smashed straight into him with a full head of steam, her muscular thighs pounding furiously. Ron’s forward motion was stopped dead in his tracks for a split second and then the impact sent him reeling backwards. The heavier girl ran him over like a train and that’s exactly how Ron felt. He bounced off the soft ground, clumsily and grunted in pain as Mariana’s thick legs trampled him, still maintaining control of the ball. She dribbled determinedly into the goal for another score. “3 to 2.”
But Ron tied it up and then stopped her two more times. He went on to win the contest 5-3, but it was a dubious victory. Mariana had proven that she could compete on the field with him. And Ron had proven that he could barely stay on his feet when his younger sister got physical with him. Her muscularity and her punishing style of play had made her one of the toughest opponents he’d ever faced in his life. Mariana had really knocked the hell out of him and he was a little shaken up by this hard fact. He felt battered and broken and he hurt all over.
He dropped down on the ground to rest for a minute. Mariana knelt down beside him and smiled. She didn’t seem particularly tired or worn out like he did. Then out of the blue, she plopped herself on top of him and pinned him down on the ground. She pulled his arms up over his head and held his wrists tightly. Her thick legs wrapped around his and held him firmly. “Mariana...what are you...?” And as he said the words, he tried to resist, but he felt like he could not. “What are you doing?”
“Just seeing if I could do this,” she said cheerfully.
“Do what?”
“Hold you down. Are you trying to get up?”
“No,” he said, defensively. She weighed more than him and she was very strong. It felt like he could not get up even if he had tried his hardest.
“Well, try. I want to see if I can hold you down.”
“No, Mariana, I have to get home. I have a lot of homework to do. I have a science test tomorrow.”
“Come on, Ron. Wrestle me. I want to know if I could take you.”
“You can’t take me, okay? Now get off me. I gotta go.”
“No, try to get up.” The chunky girl drove her large thighs up into the older boy’s bottom, driving a wedge under him and lifting his lower body off the ground. He felt embarrassed that she had him in this awkward and compromising position. He tried for a moment to push up on her, but only felt his legs dangle uselessly in the air. He was trapped by her thigh muscles that would not budge under him. It felt like he could not move his arms either. And for a few humiliating seconds, he was pretty sure, his younger sister was physically dominating him. Then she squatted up off him and said, “Okay, I guess it’s time to leave.”
Ron stood up uneasily and looked around the field, uncertain about what to do next. “Well, I guess you won,” Mariana said with a forced sigh. “I guess I have to piggyback you home now.”
Ron just stood there. “Oh...uhhh...That’s alright. You don’t have to.”
“No, a deal’s a deal.”
“Really, Mariana, forget it.”
Mariana glared at him and said, “Ronald. Get your little butt over here. Now.” Ron didn’t know what to make of her tone and he hated being called, ‘Ronald,’ but before he could respond, Mariana grabbed him by one arm and jerked him toward her very easily. He was shocked by her strength. She yanked on his arm so hard, for a moment, it felt like she had pulled it from the socket. A sharp pain shot through his shoulder, making him gasp. Mariana had never been so rough with him. It upset and disturbed him. Then, still holding his arm in her tight grip, the younger girl commanded him, “Hop up on my back.” Ron shrugged and jumped on. She caught his thin legs with her arms and hoisted him up, grunting huskily. As he rested on her broad back, he observed the ease with which the teen girl supported his weight. It was not difficult for her at all. Mariana was stronger than he thought.
She walked proudly toward the parking lot, carrying her brother energetically. Ron could feel her fat, powerful legs propelling them below and he felt a little foolish that a younger girl could carry him so easily. “I’ll have your little butt home in 15 minutes,” she said. Mariana smiled to herself.
She carried him all the way home. It was over 2 miles of hilly terrain and she didn’t set him down until they were at the doorstep. Ron felt like a little monkey as he climbed off her strong back. “There you go,” she sang. Then she walked inside and bounced up the stairs to change. Ron slumped on the couch and put on the TV. He felt strange about what had just happened. He didn’t know how to process everything: his sister out muscling him on the soccer field, the wrestling, her pulling him, the piggyback ride. It was all pretty unsettling.
Mariana came downstairs wearing a workout top and spandex leggings. Sparkling new running shoes were on her feet. Her hardy ankles were bare. She sat down on the couch next to her brother. He stared at her fat thighs. Her quad muscles bulged under the elastic as she shifted her weight. Mariana caught her brother staring at them and so she flexed them some more. Ron looked at his own scrawny legs and frowned. Then he studied her upper body in her revealing cut-off tank. She was big in her back, shoulders and biceps too. Ron couldn’t believe it, but his 15-year-old sister looked bulked up. Mariana was pleased to see her brother noticing her like this. She wanted him to know who was the more muscular between them. Ron might have been a better natural athlete and a better soccer player, but Mariana was bigger.
“What do you think of my muscles?” she asked.
Ron tried not to respond to this. “I don’t know,” he shrugged apathetically.
“Look,” Mariana commanded. Then she made a muscle with her right arm. It balled up hard and round. Her biceps were big. Ron stared at her plump muscle fearfully. The younger girl smiled and started to show off, pumping it again and again. Her huge muscle bulged and bounced as she flexed it. Ron felt like a deer caught in headlights. “Go ahead, try and squeeze it,” she urged. Ron put his hand around her big, solid muscle. It bulged bigger than his hand could contain. He could not believe her size or the roundness of her muscles. And it was way harder than any muscle he’d ever felt. Her muscles were too solid for squeezing. He tried, but she was like rock.
“Strong, huh?” she said, proudly. “Why don’t you make a muscle so we can compare...” Mariana teased, knowing full well, her brother didn’t have arms like hers. ‘He didn’t have @#%$,’ she thought to herself. She could see in his eyes how hurt he was and how ashamed he felt. It was the first time in his life that he felt wimpy compared to his sister. As she made her round muscles bulge and pop, she seemed more jockey than him. She was more butch and more buff. Her legs, her arms, her back, her shoulders, her butt...She was a big, muscular girl and she seemed brimming with confidence and determination. Ron suddenly felt like a little nimrod sitting next to her.
“Do you want to wrestle again?” she asked him out of the blue.
“Oh come on,” she sang as she turned and got on his lap. Her big thighs straddled him, aggressively. She grinned as she felt her brother’s squishy thighs deflate like balloons under her muscular weight. Even relaxed, her legs were strong and dominant, seeming to trap him there just by kneeling on him this way. She smiled at him like she knew it. She knew her thighs and calves were brutal. She was too muscular to be gentle. This thin boy was at her mercy and she wasn’t even trying yet.
“No, Mariana...”
“Are you afraid of my muscles?” she asked, pumping her twin guns into two bulging balls for him. “Go ahead. Feel them again,” she said. Ron looked uneasily at his sister as she flexed her titanic biceps again. He felt them gingerly. “My muscles are hard, right?” Ron nodded weakly.
“Come on, Little Man. Let’s wrestle.” She grabbed him around the neck with both arms and pulled him toward her. “I want to wrestle you,” she cooed as she forced him down on to the floor with her.
“...I don’t want to...” her brother whined as he fought her, trying to get away. But Mariana flipped his weightless body over on his back and climbed on top of him. In seconds, she had him pinned again, like she had him in the park, her big legs grapevining his so he could not move them. “Mariana, no.” he sighed, meekly. Then the stronger, younger girl spread his thighs apart, dominantly. He gasped in shock and humiliation. He could not stop her. The big legs forced his groin open and bent him out like a pretzel. He felt like a human wishbone, his spindly legs about to snap. He felt vulnerable. He felt weak and he was helpless.
“I got ya now,” she said, confidently. Then she spread his thighs again, harder, grunting as she did it. He responded by grunting in pain. “Pretty tough, huh?” she said, triumphantly. She did this again and again, establishing herself as her brother’s pain-giver. She laughed at the contrast between her playful, mock-angry grunts and his pained wailing grunts, which only served to swallow the whimpers underneath. “Yeah...” she oozed contently. “I’ll stretch your skinny ass...” She did it to him over and over again and she could hear his gasps and grunts becoming more shrill and desperate. He was hurting. She knew he was hurting.
In a last-ditch effort, Ron began to pound on his sister’s thighs and butt with his fists, but she was too muscular to feel any pain there. She flexed her thighs and hardened her glutes into an invincible shell of flesh. Delighted that she had reduced him to such a pathetic act, she giggled and whispered in his ear, “No way out...” She bent his thighs apart again and listened to his soft whimpers. “Do you want me to let you go?”
“Say it.”
“Let me go.”
“No, say it.”
“I want you to let me go.”
“Say please.”
“Please let me go.”
“Please let me go.”
“Say my name.”
“Say that Mariana is stronger.”
“Mariana is stronger.”
“Do you give?”
“Say you give.”
“I give.”
“Say it again.”
“I give.” And with that she got off her brother and squatted up. Ron remained on the floor for several moments. He was silent and so was she. They both knew that everything between them was now different. In the span of 10 minutes (the last 10 minutes), their whole relationship had been redefined. Gone were Ron’s arrogance and his notions of superiority over his sister. His cocky attitude toward her was over. His taunting ways were a thing of the past. This was a new world order: Mariana was in charge. She was tougher. She was stronger. She had beaten her big brother and made him squeal and made him cry and made him submit. They both recognized that she had kicked his ass like a little bitch
He climbed to his feet slowly and was about to go into the kitchen, when Mariana stopped him. “Now Ronald, I want you to go upstairs in my room and clean it. Put away all my clothes in my closet. Make my bed. Vacuum my rug and reorganize my CD’s into alphabetical order.”
“’s your room. Don’t you think you should clean it yourself?”
“No. I have to go downstairs and workout.” Mariana had been lifting weights in the basement for the past year. Today was her day for chest and back. She was going to do bench presses and dumbbell flies. Then bent-over rows, chin-ups and good-mornings. “Now get your little butt upstairs and clean my room.”
“I don’t want to hear another word out of you. If you want to discuss this, I might have to wrestle you again and I know you don’t want that. Right?” Ron just looked at her and nodded. “Okay then. Get your little butt up there. Now.” Ron looked into her eyes and he could see her prideful joy. She was beaming, extremely proud of her power over her older brother. She could hardly contain herself.
He stared down at the floor as he walked out of the living room. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He felt so defeated and humiliated. And he was ashamed of himself that he was actually allowing himself to be bossed around like this by his younger sister. But she was bigger. And she was stronger. She was in control.

Offline mattu

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Re: +Notable Author: [Industrial Flesh] Stories~collected
« Reply #24 on: January 19, 2022, 08:16:20 am »

Forum Saradas  |  Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction  |  Muscular Women Fiction  |  +Notable Author: [Industrial Flesh] Stories~collected

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