Forum Saradas
Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction => Muscular Women Fiction => Topic started by: kfflkrush on December 04, 2012, 08:45:41 pm
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Stories in this collection:
The Trainee
Varsity Wrestler vs. Aerobics Instructor
My Girlfriend's Little Sister
Breaking Up With a Girl Stronger Than You
Younger Sister Beats Her Brother in the Arm-Wrestling Contest
My Little Sister Gets Stronger Than Me
Eva Built Up Her Muscles More Than Paul
My Younger Sister Proves Tougher Than I Thought
My Younger Sister Makes Me Sorry
The Tennis Instructor Vs. the Stripper
Strong Seduction
Jennifer Dominates Me - Little Sister's Muscles Are Bigger
Iceskate
Camping
Alisa Lifts Weights With Her Legs
One of my favorite authors. Here's a couple of oldie but goodies.
The Trainee
By IndustrialFlesh
new Aug. 2, 2000
A young girl trains with weights and gets very strong
Frank Levine was the Girls Track & Field coach at Van Mount High. Van Mount had not had a winning team in many years and the school was getting damn sick of it. Three years ago, the track program had all but become a joke and the Athletic Director called Frank on the carpet and said win or else. He was given 3 years to turn the program around and he set to identifying and rectifying the problem. As he saw it, there were plenty of fast girls in the school. Van Mount always placed in the running events, it just had piss-poor showings in the other events, the strength-oriented stuff. Frank had resolved to do something about it.
One day he was sitting on his back porch drinking some lemonade when he spotted Judy next door. She was doing cartwheels and hand-stands and though she was only 11, she was a very athletic little girl. In bare feet, jean shorts and a T-shirt, she looked very physical. This was not some soft, little fragile girl, Frank observed.
The following week Frank spotted her, this time dressed up going to a family outing. The young girl's legs looked stout in her little sundress. She still looked like a very hardy girl, someone with a lot of physical potential. Here was a girl Frank could train, he thought to himself, a girl he had found young enough to really work with and bring up to speed so when she got to high school she could wreak havok.
Frank decided to check it out. He went next door one day and met with Judy and her parents. He explained his situation and explained how he thought Judy could help him. He told her parents he saw a lot of athletic ability in their daughter and the parents admitted that yes, Judy seemed to be a little firebrand who had excelled in dancing when they'd found the money to send her. Frank offered to train her and promised athletic scholarships if Judy followed through with her training. Everyone agreed it sounded like a marvelous idea. Frank's eyes grew wide as he thought about his project.
First Frank tested the young girl's physical fitness. It turned out she could do 40 squat-thrusts in 1 minute. Frank took this number home and tried to test on himself. Being a young man of only 26, Frank was still in reasonably good shape and he knew the number he could achieve would be a good measuring stick for the young girl. Frank tried his best in the 1 minute. He managed 36 squat-thrusts. The young girl's legs were superior to his.
From there, Frank began to work her very hard. He had her working out every day. Running, jumping, jogging, hills, calestentics and lots and lots of lifting in the weight room. He adjusted her diet so she was taking in more protein than anything else. He was training her mostly for the shotput, the discuss and the long jump and he could tell she was going to be good. Frank knew he was building a bomb, a little atomic girl who just might be able to blow away the competition.
By 9th grade, Judy was very built. She was a short, stocky girl with legs from hell and a killer butt. Her arms were thick too. She was 5'1" 140 pounds, all solid. She benched 205 pounds. She squatted 315. She got too strong for her tennis player boyfriend, who upon feeling the steel muscle in her legs became too emasculated to go out with her anymore. Her older brother tried to wrestle her and became very scared as she pinned him forcefully and wouldn't let him up.
When a member of the wrestling team challenged the mighty girl-dynamo, he got more than he bargained for. He got down on the mat with her, wearing his wrestling suit. She was all spandex-clad from the waist down and a middriff showed off her nice flat stomach. His name was Mike and he was pretty confident about being able to handle a girl, even a kind of jocky girl like Judy. But when he felt her hindquarters like concrete, a look of fear came over his face. Though he outweighed her by 10 pounds, he found himself a mere weakling against the 9th grader. The granite girl crushed him and pinned him with embarrassing ease in front of his friends. The next victim was a football player who Judy squeezed with her muscular legs until he couldn't breathe and was crying for her to let him go.
Marky Wayneright, a senior and captain of the football team, heard about this incident and it pissed him off. He told her privately to meet him behind the school. He showed up in his practice jersey with an ugly sneer on his face. He had every intention of bitch slapping her and making her eat it good. That was his plan.
Judy showed up in a tight white T with very short sleeves and a ruffled mini-skirt. Man, this young girl looked sexy, Marky thought. He right away threatened her, saying, "You shouldn't have messed with one of my teammates, Bitch!" But when Marky tried to get rough with her, he found a surprise. Marky grabbed her wrists and tried to back her into the wall, but Judy resisted hard and wouldn't budge. As they struggled, Marky was stunned to see the girl's young biceps bulge from under her little sleeves. "Holy!" he exclaimed eyeing her muscles in awe. "You like a girl with muscles?" she asked slyly flexing her right bicep fully for him. He felt the swell of her pumped muscle and his mouth fell open and his dick got hard. She made it jump under his hand, forcing his fingers open, powerfully. "Man..." he sighed. And as he looked her up and down up-close, he saw just how built the girl was. This young 14 year old was so well built, from her big, powerful legs to her muscular arms. Marky thought himself a badass, but he was just a quarterback on the team and he didn't lift weights or anything. This muscular young girl obviously did. Her shapely muscles could only be from a large dose of weights. Mark knew that unfortunately. This girl looked like a runningback or something.
Then the stocky girl wrapped her thick arms around the older boy's waist and lifted him off the ground. "Oh...my..." he moaned, totally elated to be lifted like this by the cute younger girl. "I didn't know you liked a strong girl, Mark," she teased, feeling his erection up against her. "Whew, you're pretty light," she remarked, hoisting him up higher, letting him know what she could do to a skinny boy. "You know, you shouldn't call girls names like that. Especially not a strong girl like me." Then she dropped him and put him in a headlock. She began to crush his neck as hard as she could. "Oh...oh..." he moaned as she began to hurt him. "Come on, Mark...don't be a wimp..." But she was hurting him more and more and as she began to walk around the lot with him, he had no choice but to walk with her. "Oh...oh, please let go..." he whimpered. She was too strong for him and she knew it. She giggled with delight at her power over the older boy. She felt very strong as she watched the tears come to his eyes.
"Let this be a lesson to you. Skinny boys shouldn't mess with strong girls."
-
Varsity Wrestler vs. Aerobics Instructor
by IndustrialFlesh
A college wrestler discovers his girlfriend is stronger, much to his humiliation
It was his sophomore year of college and Manny had been dating Kim for a few
months now. They made a pretty good couple. He was on the wrestling team and she
was an aerobics instructor. He was one of the top grapplers on the team and he'd only
lost one match all season. She'd gotten certified last year and now led a weekly night
class at the college.
For some time Manny had fantasized about wrestling Kim. He'd always wanted
her to be impressed with his athleticism. He wanted her to know how strong and fast and
awesome he was, physically. She had come to many of his matches and she seemed
adequately impressed, but every now and then Manny would say, "I'm gonna wrestle
you, Babe. I'm gonna make you submit" and she would laugh and say, "I don't know,
Hon. I think I might be in better shape than you." This would always bother Manny,
slightly and make him feel like he had something to prove with her.
It was true that she did work out more. Which wasn't saying much since he hated
that stuff and believed mostly in just practicing his wrestling technique. But she
exercised a lot more than him. Heck, she went to the gym every day. She did her
aerobics and she weight lifted. She taught her class 4 days a week and 3 days a week she
hit the weights. She actually did the weights for 2 and 1/2 hours, which seemed like a lot
to Manny. But still, she was just a little aerobics instructor and after all she was a girl.
Manny may not have been Mr. Universe at 5'9" and 140 pounds, but he was a guy and
that's what counted. Manny saw himself as a serious wrestling stud so he knew it was
silly to feel insecure around her. However, that nagging need to prove himself just didn't
go away.
One day after class he told her he wanted to play wrestle with her. "Play
wrestle?" she said.
"Yeah, you know...I'll show you some moves. We'll practice them and then we'll
go at it a little bit."
Kim smiled at her boyfriend, flattered that he wanted to teach her something.
"Okay. Let me change."
"Cool." Manny was already dressed and ready in his biker shorts and tank top.
He felt primed. He felt quick. He felt lean and mean.
When Kim appeared from her room she wore a form-fitting, multi-colored leotard
that showed off her tight, firm body. Kim looked like she worked out a lot. She had a
great ass and very muscular legs. Her legs were actually thicker than Manny's. He
attributed her bigger leg muscles to all the jumping and kicking she did in her aerobics.
But even Kim's upperbody was thick. Her arms and shoulders were well-developed and
she had a thickness to her back that made her look kind of buff from behind. And Kim
was definitely not skinny at 5'4" and 135 pounds.
"You look good," he grinned from his knees.
"Thanks," she said, getting down on her knees with him. He went through the
paces with her, showing her how to make a headlock, a half-nelson, a full-nelson...just a
few of the basic moves. She picked it up fast and seemed very able to do each thing he
showed her.
"You think you got it?"
"Yeah."
"You wanna go a few rounds?"
"Okay." The two went at it. They rolled around and giggled as they grappled. At
first they were both a little tentative, but they began to wrestle harder as each got more
into it. Manny did some of his more creative moves, swinging her up into a shoulder-pin
and then later a cobra-clutch and he controlled much of the match, of course, but he was
surprised by how much force he had to use on his girlfriend. Kim was strong. And she
was heavy. And she was solid.
After about the 4th pin, Manny eased up on her. Something he quickly regretted
doing. From a pinned position, Kim pulled a stunning turnover. She grabbed Manny into
a headlock and pulled his whole body down to the floor. Manny could feel himself
unable to resist as she twisted his body by the neck. She dragged his limp weight under
her and got on top of him. She straddled his body tightly with her thighs. She grabbed
his wrists and pinned them back over his head. He tried to explode up at her, but she
held his thin frame in place. Kim grinned down at her beaten boyfriend.
Manny smiled uneasily from below. "Heh...that's pretty good..."
"It's easy," Kim said, smiling.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Well, let's see you hold me down like this."
"Okay. Try to get up."
"Oh don't worry. I'll get up." Manny began to squirm , applying pressure on her
arms and surging up at her with his legs. But the aerobics instructor held him down
firmly. Soon Manny began to wriggle in an attempt to move sideways. "You're like a
little worm," she said laughing, struggling to hold him. His legs were kicking and flailing
now under her so she wrapped her legs around his, tightly, to restrain them. Then she
spread his thighs wide in a painful grapevine. Manny screamed. His skinny legs couldn't
handle her legs which were muscular and powerful. She stretched his legs wider still and
watched his face grimmace.
"I think I got ya..." she sang.
"Yeah, that's...that's good..." he managed to blurt out.
"Yeah...real easy too..."
"Oh yeah?" he said, trying to still sound tough.
"Uh-huh..." she said, confidently.
"Well, we'll see about that..." But Manny didn't see about it. He was in a lot of
pain and he couldn't move and every time Kim flexed her leg muscles she made it hurt a
little bit more. A few minutes of this and nothing changed. Manny was groaning now
and trying not to cry from the hurt the strong girl was putting on him.
"Do ya give?" she asked.
It took him a few prideful seconds to answer. "Y-yes..."
"Good. I beat you." She released him. Manny groaned a little bit more as the
feeling in his legs came back.
"Man..." he said, "You really got the drop on me, there."
"It was easy."
"Yeah, I'll show you easy," he said suddenly, jumping on her from behind.
Manny's injured pride left him no choice. She had badly bruised his ego and he needed
to redeem himself. He went after his girlfriend like she was a real opponent this time.
He would not underestimate her again.
But in under a minute the aerobics instructor was on top of him and he was
fighting for his life: Manny jumped on Kim. Kim picked him up. Then she slammed in
down on the floor and got on top of him. Manny couldn't believe the way he was being
pummeled. Kim was seriously strong and it was really embarrassing. She pinned him
with another strong-legged grapevine, making him yelp again and again. "Ha, Ha. I got
ya again. This is so easy," she oozed.
"Alright. That's it. No more playing around," Manny said angrily. He was
furious. "You think that's wrestling? I'll show you wrestling." Kim seemed amused by
her boyfriend's tantrum. She'd never seen him like this before.
He dove at her in a fury of holds and maneuvers, designed to confuse and
befuddle her. It worked. He was so fast, she didn't know what he was doing and he
began to work her into a pin. But then Kim got her legs around his slim middle and she
squeezed him tight. The girl squeezed the air out of him with her legs, leaving him
gasping and helpless. "Oh!" he gasped, feeling himself being overpowered by her again.
His arms flailed and his legs kicked. He grabbed her ankles and tried to pull her strong
legs apart. He couldn't. Then Kim wrapped one of her arms around his neck and pulled
his head down into her chest. Her headlock was brutal on him and it held him still. "My
little squirming boy," she cued as her body dominated him. The aerobics instructor
moved the wriggling wrestler over on his side and then turned him over on his back with
little difficulty. Manny grunted and squirmed the whole time, but his girlfriend
controlled him easily.
"Damn!" he howled in frustration. "You keep getting so lucky on me..."
"I'm just stronger than you," she said, matter-of-factly.
"Kim, you are not stronger than me..."
"Really..."
"Really...Let me up and I'll show you." Kim smirked at Manny. The poor guy,
she thought. This was really important to him. But still, what was she supposed to do,
pretend to be weaker than him?
"Fine," she said, releasing him from her strong arms and legs.
"Let's go again," he said with an intense look on his face. They faced off on their
knees again. Manny dove in swiftly, taking her from behind and swinging her muscular
body over to his right. But Kim braced her feet and legs into a sitting-squat position.
Then she pushed off the floor back at Manny pushing him backwards and down into the
floor. Her heaviness pummeled him, but he still had his arms locked around her torso.
He tried to use it to his advantage. But she slid her body up him so she could get one arm
around his neck. She put him in another headlock and began yanking on his neck really
hard. He grabbed her arm with both hands and tried to pry it off, but her bicep only
tightened, hurting him more and forcing him to back off. She was lying on him sideways
now, her hip leaning into his ribs, her weight crushing him. She grabbed one of his legs
under the knee and pulled it up toward his chest. It was easy for her because his legs
were so skinny. He tried to resist, but apparently her arms were stronger than his legs.
She maneuvered herself into a kneeling position and before Manny knew what was
happening, his girlfriend picked him up off the floor in a cat's cradle, showing him how
totally stronger she was than him. "Aw man!" he hissed, awkwardly and feeling very
embarrassed at her superior display of strength. She was stronger. There was no denying
it. She could take him, for real.
"Do you give?" she asked, still holding him and crushing his leg and neck
together. He tried for a few instants to escape, but she was hurting him too much. "Y-
yeah..." he gasped. She lay him down on the floor. Manny looked at her with a pained
expression on his face. He was humiliated.
"How much do you weigh, anyway?"
"Oh, I weigh 152 pounds."
"You gained weight."
"I know, 17 pounds. It's muscle." Kim looked back at him casually. "Yeah, I
knew I was stronger than you the first time we went out."
"How?"
"I could see it. My legs were bigger than yours. My back was tougher. I was
more fit."
"Your back? Your back's not tougher than mine."
"Your back's squooshy."
"It is?"
"Yeah. It looks squooshy. And when I hug you I can feel it. You're soft. You're
not solid like me."
"Really?" He actually recognized this too, although he didn't realize that she had
noticed. When they hugged, he always felt like she was hunkier, hulkier.
"Yeah really. You're skinny. You don't even go to the gym. It's kind of
wimpy," she said, approaching him after he stood up. Kim took him up in her arms and
gave him a strong hug. She lifted him off the floor to show him how light he was.
Again, he felt himself succumbing to the strong girl. "Face it. You're not so strong,
Honey. But I love you anyway." Manny's face turned bright red. He'd never felt so
humiliated.
-
My Girlfriend's Little Sister
by IndustrialFlesh
A young soccer player puts an older boy to shame with her strength
I was sitting on the couch, waiting for my girlfriend, Catherine. She always took
a long time to get ready. Not because she wore a lot of makeup or anything, she was a
little too crunchy for that. She just took her time about things, I think. I didn't mind
waiting. I liked her a lot and our relationship was going well. We'd been going out since
the beginning of junior year.
I was trying to watch TV in the den to distract myself, when Catherine's little
sister, Tracy, came into the room. She was only in 8th grade, but she fancied herself a
perceptive little thing. She was a pretty girl and though she was younger, she was
probably prettier than Catherine, although I never would have said so. Maybe, she
wasn't really prettier, she was just more perfect-looking, more manicured.
Her face was perfectly round. Eyes, a beautiful blue with long lashes. Her lovely
brown hair was up in a ponytail. She had a cute smile that got even cuter when she
blinked her eyes at me the way she was doing right now. "Hi, Tom!" she beamed,
bouncing on to the sofa beside me.
"Hi, Tricia."
I gave her a quick glance. She had on a little workout suit. Green nylon
sweatpants and a matching top. The pants were not the tight-styled kind, but her legs
filled them up so they were very snug on her. She was a stocky girl, not too fat, but not
too thin either. "You going out with Catherine?" she asked.
"Yup." I kept trying to watch TV.
"You're dropping me off at soccer practice first."
"Yeah, I know."
"You can watch me practice...if you want."
I looked at her a little funny now, but tried not to let on that I thought her
suggestion funny. "Yeah, maybe we will."
"No, you can. My sister can't." I chuckled at this.
"Well, that might be a little difficult since I'll be with you're sister."
"I don't care. That's the rule."
"Okay," I said again, trying to be nice.
"What are you watching?"
"Uhh...some dumb movie, I don't know, School Ties, I think it's called?" She
didn't seem very interested in my answer.
"I'm hot," she announced and then stripped down her sweat suit. She shook
herself out of the top and then peeled her pants down, kicking them off her ankles. She
had on a white tank-top and blue, snug-fitting shorts. With her soccer socks rolled down
to her ankles, I noticed the size of her calves. They were very big and very full.
She `clomped' her black cleats on the floor several times as if to burn off some
excess energy and I could hear the weight of those sizeable calves each time her feet
slammed the floor. Then, as she brought her legs back toward the bottom of the couch, I
looked at her thighs. Her thighs were big. They were well-fed with tremendous
muscular sweep, obviously the result of rigorous conditioning.
Her upper-body was equally eye-popping. She was broad-shouldered with a thick
chest, brawny arms and rounded shoulders. What a body this young girl had! She was an
eighth grader?! Holy shit! She looked like a little bodybuilder or something. God
almighty! What had Tracy been doing?
"Do you play a sport?" she asked, crossing her muscular legs. Her right calf came
to rest over her left knee. The considerable muscle expanded wide and it was hard for
me not to stare at it.
"Uh...I wrestle..."
"Oh, really? I play soccer."
"I know," I said, trying not to roll me eyes. She didn't seem to notice.
"Do you work out a lot for that?"
"Yeah." This wasn't exactly true. I was one of the smaller guys on the team. I
was 5'9" and I wrestled in the 132 pound class. Quickness was my game and I got by
mostly on my natural ability and the skills I'd acquired over the years. I really wasn't
into the whole fitness thing.
"I work out a lot for soccer. I run every day and lift weights." I just nodded.
"You know?" She seemed to stop for a moment, not sure where to go from there. She
seemed to be sort of reading me.
"Yeah. That's great."
Then she cocked her head as if she suddenly had an idea. "Do you do sit-ups?"
she asked excitedly.
"Sure," I shrugged. I had done them.
"I bet I can do more sit-ups than you!"
I laughed at this. "Oh, I'm not so sure about that, Tracy."
"I bet I can!" Her pretty eyes were wide with excitement. "Wanna see?"
"Oh, I don't know, Tracy."
"Come on, Tom. Let's have a contest! Let's see who can do more!"
I finally shrugged and said, "Why not?" Hey, what was the harm in humoring the
little kid. She seemed ready to burst otherwise.
"We'll go at the same time and count together," she announced.
"Fine," I said. Whatever. We layed down side-by-side. Her short body only
came up to my shoulder. We tucked our feet into the space under the couch and bent our
knees slightly. I still couldn't get over those robust legs she had. Lying back with her
legs next to mine, it was striking how much more muscle she packed on her legs which
were considerably shorter than mine.
"Ready?" I nodded. "Go!" We went together with her counting. "1-2-3-4-5-6..."
She was counting really fast and it was hard to keep up. This compact, younger girl
performed a sit-up a lot faster than I did. I really had to work. As we got up into the 30's
and 40's I began to slow down. I was not keeping up with her cadence at all. She didn't
seem to be paying attention though. I peered over at her and she was just cranking them
out, going as strong as when she had started. I could feel my stomach reaching its limits
as we entered the 50's, though for her it must have been more like the 60's. I did my last
sit-up at number, 64.
I collapsed back down on the floor, feeling kind of defeated, kind of...I don't
know what. Tracy was still going and I didn't like it one bit. She was a machine. A
young soccer player in better shape than I was. An eighth grade girl with a steel stomach.
Bang-bang-bang...she went...right up to 150. When she got there, she sat up, panting
hard. "I could keep going," she breathed, "but I've already beaten you." I didn't know
what to say to this. "See? I told you I could do more sit-ups than you." I nodded weakly.
It was kind of unsettling, being beaten by this younger girl. "I probably do more sit-ups
every day than you do. How many do you do?"
"Uhh...I don't know..."
"I do 200 every day." I tried to ignore her. "I do 200 sit-ups every day," she said,
pressing her point. I nodded. She pulled up her shirt so I could see her tummy of
muscle. This young girl had abs that put me to shame. She had a real six-pack like one
of those aerobics instructors on TV. "See?...You can punch it...Go ahead...Punch it. It
won't hurt."
"That's okay, Tracy."
"No, come on. I want you to..."
"That's okay. I believe you." I didn't want to punch this girl's strong stomach. I
was feeling out of sorts as it was.
"Well...well...I bet I can do more pull-ups," she said, pointing to the bar wedged
in the doorway.
"Tracy, I'd quit while I'm ahead if I were you. Boys tend to have stronger arms
than girls, you know."
"I bet I can do more."
I was getting impatient now. "Tracy, I really doubt it."
"Let's make a bet. If you win, I have to wash your car once a month for the rest
of the year. If I win, you have to take me out on a date just like you take Catherine."
This I did not expect. I was surprised and then angry. Angry that this little tyke thought
of me as being in her league enough that I should have to take her out. She was so
young, for God's sake. And I was insulted that she thought she could beat me.
"Fine, Tracy. Let's go. My car could use the washing."
"Yeahhhh!" she cheered. "Do you want to go first or can I?"
"No, please, ladies first..."
"Ooh, Tom. I didn't know you thought of me as a lady."
I rolled my eyes. "Okay, girls first."
"Okay," she bubbled, bounding over to the doorway. She stood under the bar for
a moment and then jumped up and caught it. She pulled herself up with frightening ease.
Then she began. I counted as she pulled herself up and down. Up and down. As Tracy
raised and lowered herself, I witnessed a very impressive musculature in her back. I
gulped at the sight of it. And had I realized just how strong her arms were, I never would
have taken her up on this challenge. Tracy did 18 pull-ups before dropping to the floor,
exhausted.
I got under the bar and pulled myself up, immediately recognizing that 18 pull-
ups was going to be tough to beat. I managed 9. I was not laughing. I felt incredibly
stupid and ridiculous. Tracy, on the other hand was delighted. "I knew I could beat
you..."
I was so pissed, I couldn't sit still and listen to her crap. This time I made
excuses. "That's because you weigh less than me. You're really light. I mean look at
you. You're only what, 5 feet tall?"
"5'1" and I'm not light. I weigh 125 pounds," she asserted in a bratty tone. I
recalled my own weight as an eighth grader, a whopping 83 pounds. I was not amused to
learn that this girl, had I been her age, would have out-weighed me by 42 pounds.
"Really! I'm not that light. Go ahead. Pick me up." She kicked off her cleats and raised
her arms at me. Oh, what the hell? I was curious. I took the young girl under her arms
and hoisted her up off the ground. I was stunned by how heavy she felt. Tracy seemed to
weigh a ton. Her hefty body was dragging toward the floor in seconds and I was huffing
and puffing to stop it. "See?" she said. "Aren't I heavy?" She was heavier than she
looked. That was for sure. And it meant only one thing. As Tracy's nimble little socked
feet touched the floor, I knew Tracy was 125 pounds of muscle. It was those legs, those
big solid legs and that back, those arms. It was all muscular weight. The young soccer
girl was as buff as they come and it made me feel very uneasy.
She must have somehow sensed it. "I'm sorry Tom. I didn't mean to embarrass
you or anything."
"No, no. You didn't. Don't be silly, Tracy."
"If you think I've been bad, you can spank me."
I thought this was funny...and kind of cute. "No that's alright, Tracy."
"No, really. Go ahead. Spank me. So I'll remember to be good." She turned and
stuck her rear out at me provocatively. She really had a butt on her too. It was so round.
Like she had two bowling balls in her little shorts. I just couldn't resist. I gave her a
little whack. I was astounded by how strong her backside felt. It was so solid. Lotta butt
muscle back there. She grinned at me. She had a butt like a fullback and she knew it.
"That didn't hurt," she bragged, immaturely. "So when are we going out?"
"Tracy, come on..."
"Come on, yourself. I won the bet."
"Tracy..."
"Look Tom, you know you want to go out with me. I saw you looking at my
legs."
This was getting out of hand. "I-I-did not!"
"Tom, you were looking at my muscles."
"No, I wasn't, Tracy..."
"Suuuuuure..." I was dealing with an eighth grader here. She was so immature.
This was not cool. "Wanna see my muscles?" Then Tracy made a bicep. I just gasped
and my jaw dropped. I swallowed hard. I couldn't believe how big her muscle was. It
was huge. It looked like a rock. The young girl giggled as she saw how impressed I was.
"Isn't it big? I've got size. That's from doing a lot of barbell curls."
"Jesus..." I gasped.
"Why don't we compare your muscles with mine?" she asked with an evil grin on
her face. I suppose she knew full well, I couldn't match the plump ball of steel she was
sporting on her arm.
"Nah, let's...let's..."
"Arm-wrestle?"
"No!" I boomed. "What are you kidding?"
Tracy giggled. "Come on. I'll bet you again. If you win, you don't have to take
me out."
"Tracy, I don't have to as it is..."
"Tom, a bet's a bet. You have to be fair. You have to be faaaaair..." She was
whining now, being a little girl again. "Come on, Toooooom..." I rolled my eyes in a
combination of disgust and exhaustion. This eighth grader sure knew how to wear me
down.
"Fine." I also agreed, because I knew I was good at arm-wrestling and I was
confident I could win. Her arms might have been bigger than mine, but my arms were
longer and leverage could win it for me. And believe me, at this point, I needed to win
something to save face. I was not feeling very comfortable with the fact that I'd lost the
last two physical contests to this little girl.
She came around the coffee table and knelt down beside it, her big-muscled
thighs expanding over the backs of her calves. We grabbed hands and she said, "Go!"
What followed was absolutely devastating to my psyche. The young girl showed me who
was boss from the moment she started pushing. Her arm was so much stronger than mine
that she began to force my arm down right away. I'd lost arm-wrestling matches before,
but never so quickly. Tracy's steel bicep was merciless and brutally strong. "Ahh!" I
grunted, trying to offer some level of resistance. But all I could do was strain helplessly
against her forceful arm. She crushed my hand to the table in seconds, humiliating me
like I'd never been humiliated before. My face was beet-red. The little girl with the
pony-tail grinned into it mischeviously.
"Tom, don't feel bad but...you're not very strong..."
I was just at a loss now. I said the only thing I could think of to say. "Tracy...how
did you get so strong?"
"I work out...That was nothing. That's just my arms. My legs are really strong.
Wanna see?" At this point, I'd already been embarrassed several times. One more time
wouldn't matter and I was curious.
"Okay."
Tracy turned around so her back was to me and squatted down low. "Climb on
my back. I'm going to do squat-jumps with you." I positioned my legs over her arms and
wrapped my arms around her neck, not knowing what a squat-jump was. Then Tracy lept
up off the floor like a frog, taking me with her. She landed back down in a squatting
position with me still on her back. She then proceeded to squat-jump around the room,
giving me the most emasculating ride of my life. The muscular power in her legs was so
intimidating I began to feel nauseous. Her legs were huge and frightfully strong. In a
terrifying display of brute strength that I didn't think a young girl was capable of, she
squat-jumped me around the room like a frog from hell. All the while, giggling,
apparently delighted by her own awesome leg strength. It was too much.
-
Breaking Up With a Girl Stronger Than You
By IndustrialFlesh
"Even if we get into a really bad fight, promise me you'll never walk out on me. You'll never leave. You'll always stay and work it out with me..." she pleaded almost in tears. Katrina was always making annoying, requests like that. They were not so much requests as demands, Tom thought to himself. But he nodded in agreement just the same and stayed with her to work out the problem, rather than bolting which was his first instinct.
That was months ago and Katrina was at it once again. A ridiculous misunderstanding had escalated into a destructive war of words. A casual comment had turned into the ultimate insult and as Tom tried to put the fire out, he found that he only inflamed it. Katrina was playing the victim to the hilt and from this position had sneakily gone on the attack as she always did. Tom was amazed by how adroitly she was able to maneuver herself into the role of avenging her own insecurities. She thought she was perfect and anyone who said anything to the contrary was going to be torched by her subtle, clever little barbs. Tom usually tried to play dumb when she jabbed like this, but he was livid that she had ruined their perfect morning over this nonsense. It had happened too many times and he was fed up.
"I've had it!" he barked. "This is just wrong! Forget it! I'm out of here!" Tom began storming around her messy bedroom, gathering up his things. Katrina's sad, blue eyes stared at him with the hurt of a betrayed little girl. At 22 years old, her pink cheeks and blond, baby-faced, cuteness were matched only by her capacity to behave with the maturity of a 4 year old. Her only thought was that she was hurt and she could not see past this for the sake of logic, reason or peace. Yet she did could not bare to let him go, despite how unhappy she was with him.
She watched him for a few moments and then began pleading. "Don't go." Tom continued to pack up. "Don't go," she whined, more desperately now. The plea did not make much sense given the rest of her behavior, but then that was Katrina. "Tom..." she sniffled as her big, wet eyes longed for him to stop what he was doing. Tom paused and looked at her.
In her tight T-shirt and underpants, she looked like a shorter, stockier Barbie Doll. Physically, she was Tom's ideal strong girl. She was not athletic and didn't play any sports, but she was naturally muscular and a consistent workhorse in the gym. She did cardio and lifted weights, much more regularly than Tom did, even in his soccer days. Tom had encouraged her to lift heavier weights so he could see her full potential, but she had refused on the grounds that she did not want to get too bulky. However, she worked out with free weights, including squats and bulk came naturally to her. She was 4 inches shorter than his 5'9" inches but, she matched him pound for pound at a weight of 156.
As he made his way to the door, again she said, "Don't go..." and came toward him, her bare feet padding across the carpet. He backed away and she fell on her knees and wrapped her arms around his waist. He looked down at her, suddenly thinking she was sort of pathetic. At the same time he noticed how her back and shoulders were busting out of her T-shirt, the material was stretched tightly over her mass. Katrina's upperbody was really quite thick, especially from this downward angle. She'd gotten broader and more solid up-top over the course of their relationship. In fact, sometimes when they hugged, she would tell him, "Hug tighter," and he would and she'd say, "Tighter," and he would. He'd be squeezing her as tight as he could with all his might, but it was never enough for her. He could feel how solid her back was. She felt pretty hulky in his arms and she could handle his strongest bear-hug like it was nothing. "Doesn't that hurt?" he'd ask and she'd say, "No..." quite sincerely.
Now she stood up and wrapped her arms tightly around his torso, holding him firmly in her arms. She squeezed him in a far stronger hug than he'd ever felt from her. As she did so, he felt his body lifted slightly, so his feet were almost off the floor. He wanted to tell her to stop, but instead he fell silent, totally stunned by her strength. He was going to great lengths to contain the gasps she was forcing from him with her hulky embrace. The self-pitying, immature girl was powerful.
She leaned her weight into him, bending him off-balance so he was almost falling. But she continued to hold him up and instead nudged him backwards with her thighs. Katrina's movements seemed gentle and effortless, but Tom felt his entire bodyweight dominated, forced backward by solid thighs that were easily 26 inches thick and bulging with quadricep muscle. Katrina's calves too were big, well-fed and very trained looking.
She smiled to herself as she felt her boyfriend become crushed in her arms. It was nothing for her to handle him like this. Although she mostly pretended that she did not notice, she was totally aware that she was stronger-looking than him. How could she not notice? There was such a large gap between them in terms of muscle size and conditioning. After all, she was the one who went to the gym every day, not him. She was the one who always got compliments for looking buff and built, not him.
"Katrina...I gotta...go..." he managed to blurt out with difficulty.
"Don't you like this? Isn't this what you want?" she asked in a threatening tone. "I thought you always wanted me to be strong with you." Tom gasped as she choked up on his thin torso, tightening her big arms around him. "You like that?" she asked. Tom's hands had moved from her strong back to her surprisingly big arms.
"My God..." he murmered.
"Yeah, they got big, huh?" she said, seriously.
"Okay, Katrina, uhhh..."
"Wait..." she cued, persing her little lips. Then, still restraining him in her crushing hug, she stepped beside him. She took another sturdy step and pulled him off his feet into the air. "Katrina...w-what?..." he starmmered. Katrina had been squatting with 155 pounds for months now and Tom's weight was nothing to her. Handling him like a ragdoll, she threw him on to the bed quite easily. "Whoa!" he bellowed, as he bounced on to the mattress helplessly.
He got his bearings and looked up at her. She eyed him mischeviously and stripped off her T-shirt. In just a sports bra, Tom could see how built her shoulders and biceps were. As she turned to chuck her shirt in the hamper, Tom witnessed her broad, thick-muscled back, hulking up from her tiny waist like fleshy armor.
Then she climbed on to the bed and grappled him with her thick arms and legs. In seconds, she was out-muscling him into submission so he could not escape. He wriggled, but he wasn't going anywhere.
Her muscular upper-body restrained him easily. Below it was only a few seconds before his knee was trapped between her fat thighs. She tensed her muscles and squooshed his kneecap around like it was soft rubber. "Ow...ow..." he murmered. "Y-you're hurting my knee...Kartina..."
She laughed a little and flashed a triumphant grin at him. "I told you not to leave, didn't I?"
"I-"
"See what happens? It's not good for you is it?" She squooshed his knee some more.
"Ow...Katrina Stop!..."
"You see?" Her legs were so strong. He was absolutely frightened of what she could do to his poor knee cap if she continued to be this rough on it. "You see? I'll kick your ass." She released his puny leg from her thick trunks and let him go with her arms. Tom rolled out, his pride badly beaten.
Tom always knew she was strong. He just didn't realize what she could do if she really tried. He didn't stand a chance against her. That was a fact. So now it was her turn to dictate to him in the relationship and she knew it. If he didn't comply, he would be in big trouble because he couldn't handle her at all.
-
Younger Sister Beats Her Brother in the Arm-Wrestling Contest
By IndustrialFlesh
6/17/99
Paul came home from college with a bang. He'd had a fun freshmen year. He'd studied a bit and also done his share of partying. But he had finished strong and done fairly well on his finals. Now he was home and he was psyched for a summer of rest and relaxation. He'd also picked up a steady girlfriend along the way, Robyn from Connecticut, whom he planned to see over the break from time to time. It was going to be a fun summer, he decided.
It began with his family taking him out to dinner to celebrate his homecoming. Paul's dad was a little cheap so they went out to Sizzler, but Paul felt good about the gesture just the same. Paul's mom, Florence, never had a discouraging word to say about the matter, but Paul and Britney made fun of it. They always cracked up about how poor he made everything for them when it didn't really have to be so bad. It was one of their big jokes when they were getting along, which had not been lately.
Britney was 14 now and becoming a full-fledged, obnoxious teenager. Her adolescence made Paul feel very mature by comparison. When he saw how self-conscious and self-important she was and how into her own thing she had become, he knew how much he had grown as a person. Britney was so shallow and girlie. All she was interested in was boys and looking good. She was into all the trends: hair ties, belly-shirts, MTV gameshows, shaping up (doing it just to do it, not for a sport). It wasn't long before he started banging on her wall in the morning because she was playing her teeny-bopper aerobics video too loud and was stomping around waking him up when he was trying to sleep in. She did it every morning it seemed.
6/23/99
Paul had been banging on the wall for 15 minutes and the music was still on full-blast. Paul could hear Britney's bare feet pounding down on the wooden floor in her room as she bounced, bounded, jumped and stomped. He wasn't really sure what she was doing, but whatever the heck it was, it had to stop now.
He threw himself angrily out of bed and marched 15 feet to her door in the hallway. He banged on it with his fist, letting the frustration dull the pain. The music suddenly went down and Britney opened the door. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she was wearing her little workout outfit. In each of her small hands she held a plastic dumbell. She looked annoyed. "What?"
"Turn it off. I'm sleeping."
"I'm exercising."
"Do it quietly! I'm sleeping."
"Don't give me attitude."
"Oh shut-up with your 'attitude' crap. This isn't the Real World! I'm your big brother and if you don't knock off the music, I'm going to hurt you. Okay?" Britney didn't say a word. Paul did a military about-face and stormed away, feeling satisfied.
6/30/99
Paul was awakened in the morning to someone next door bouncing energetically. Then came the damn music. That same annoying aerobics video theme tune with the hip-hop funky beat and crap. Paul punched the wall a few times. The music was lowered. Paul fell back to sleep.
7/4/99
Paul was having a great summer. He'd been working as a temp in an insurance office: lots of filing, but the money was decent. He was going to the movies a lot since he was a movie-nut. Twice he'd played a little touch football with the guys. Paul was never a jock, but he was a natural athlete along with his other talents. He wasn't that active anymore, but he still loved a good touch game every now and then.
For the 4th his girlfriend was coming down and they were going to go to a friend's, Larry's, for a party. Paul was pysched to see Robyn. He had only seen her two other times that summer so far and he was dying for a little play. When Robyn came, no one was home and they fooled around heavily in his room. Paul was living it up.
That night they joined the gathering and proceeded to have a blast. Robyn had not met a lot of Paul's friends so this was her coming out party. Paul gave the low-down on each guy. "We think Jerry likes Mira, but he denies it...Larry's family has money...Guy's taking a year off because he couldn't handle college...Keith is always fighting with his girlfriend that's why she's not here..." Along with Paul and his gang were the younger crew - all the younger siblings who were old enough to want to party, but not old enough to go do it on their own. This included Larry's sister, Peggy, Guy's brother, Matt and Paul's sister, Britney.
Larry put on his own store-bought fireworks display and everyone oohed and ah'd and applauded. Paul kissed Robyn very deeply as it got dark. It was a great, exciting time and also a romantic time to him. Robyn looked so pretty and her smile was so perfect.
Then Paul left her to talk to Mira on the deck, while he and the guys had a three-way catch with the Nerf. The tossing turned into a semi-competitive route-running game with no real score, but lots of celebrated touchdowns.
When they got back that found that some of the other people at the party had started arm-wrestling for fun around the picnic table and everyone was watching. This one was beating this one and cheering while that one lost to this one. Pretty soon, Larry announced, "Hey let's have a tournament! Everyone at the party has to go, even the little guys!" People were already jubilant from the night's festivities and this seemed like yet another fun, silly thing for everyone to enjoy. The cheers and hoots made it unanimous. Larry set it up like a tree with the winners from different branches taking on each other. The arm-wrestling tournament began.
Jerry was an ex-high school football player and he was the biggest guy at the party. He took a string of early victories against Vinny, Bob and Michael. Paul watched with his arm around Robyn. When it was his turn, he matched up with Keith and beat him after a 20 second struggle. Then Britney was up against her best friend, Peggy. Britney beat her in 4 seconds with the other girl squealing, "Ahhh! She's strong!" Everyone cheered the young girls on. Britney walked out of the spotlight with her friend enthusing, "Britney, you're strong, Girl!"
Next Robyn took on Mira. Both young women giggled and cackled as they struggled back and forth against each other. Finally, after about 40 seconds, Robyn edged her out. Paul took her hand and held it up, proudly. "Ha! The champ has spoken!" Everyone was making silly comments and cracking up. Sometimes they were realy funny and sometimes it was just everyone having such a good time.
Soon Paul was up again and he took on Vinny. Vinny was not a strong guy and badly coordinated. Paul beat him fairly easily, within 12 seconds. Then Britney matched up against, Guy's younger brother, Matt. He was the same age as her and very determined to beat Britney so he could get a crack at some of the older guys. Everyone's eyebrows raised when a few seconds into the match, Matt was still dead-even with "a girl." Britney persed her lips together and seemed to pour it on. Matt's face grimmaced as the girl pushed harder on him. It was quickly apparent that he was the one struggling to hold her at bay. And she was the stronger of them, pushing and pushing, relentlessly. Matt was obviously straining, but he was losing. In 9 seconds, it was over and the girl pressed his limp hand to the table. "Ow..." he hissed, shaking his hand. Britney just gave him an unsympathetic look like, 'Don't be such a wimp.' Paul was a little surprised to see her beat a boy. But as he examined Matt, he saw that he was a pretty skinny, rickety looking guy and Britney did have some meat on her bones.
Jerry continued to be undefeated, while Paul beat Guy, but then lost to Bob. When Paul wrestled Jerry, it was just no contest. "Aw, you're easy, Man!" Jerry teased. "You're easy! You got no strength." "Yeah, he's pretty easy," Bob confirmed. "Yeah, isn't he?" Jerry asked, still trying to mess with Paul. "Fuck you and fuck you!" Paul exclaimed, laughing. He wished he could have kept winning, but he knew Bob and Jerry were too strong for him. They were just bigger guys, really.
Next up Paul and Robyn went at it. They laughed and kissed while they wrestled. Paul was actually surprised that she had as much strength as she did. Robyn was pretty slim, yet she definitely mustered a little resistance. Paul put in a little work to beat her, registering a win in nearly 6 seconds. "No...no...no..." she laughed as her arm went down. Paul leaned across the table and kissed her on the nose. "You are such a cutie," he told her.
Paul looked at the standings and saw himself in 4th place with only 2 losses. There were 3 people in the tournament with better records. Bob who was 4-1. Jerry who was undefeated of course at 5-0. And...Britney who, at 2-0 was still undefeated and technically had a higher winning percentage than Paul as a result. Paul knew it was silly, but it irked him a little to see his sister ranked higher than him in the standings. "It was bullshit really", he remarked to Robyn. "She's only wrestled twice. Where I have gone 5 times and have 3 wins. Robyn, beat her for me, will you? She's annoying me." Robyn looked at Paul, seeing he was getting a little carried away. But never one to be judgemental she just smiled and said, "I'll try, Hon."
Robyn matched up with Britney soon after that. Paul studied his college girl friend and the 14 year old leaning across from her. Robyn wore a loose sundress over her bathing suit and she didn't look real athletic. Paul had to admit, next to Robyn, Britney, in her bikini, looked like a built, little jock. She was broader, she looked heavier and her arms were thicker. Robyn was a slender girl, but she was pretty soft with a little cellulite showing in places on her. Britney was all muscle, solid everywhere. His observations proved correct in the match. They began and the young teeny-bopper slammed Paul's girlfriend in 2 seconds. "Whoa!" Robyn gasped as the younger girl jerked her arm down in nothing, flat. "She's strong..." she emphasized to anyone listening. Seeing his younger sister crush his girlfriend's arm like this pissed Paul off. He didn't like the way Robyn was obviously impressed with Britney's strength. Even he wasn't sure why. Robyn smiled, weakly at Paul, seeing something was wrong. Paul just folded his arms.
"What is it?" she asked quietly.
"Nothing...How come you said Britney's strong, but you didn't say that about me, when we arm-wrestled?"
"What?"
"You heard me. How come you didn't say I'm strong? You said, she's strong..."
"Paul..."
"No, I'm just asking..."
"Because...I expect it from you...I expect you to be strong. She's like...a little girl. It's just surprising...You know? She's strong for a little girl..."
"Hm." Paul just bit his lip. He tried to accept Robyn's explanation. But his uneasiness still gnawed at him. Especially, as Britney stepped away from the table with her hands, firmly on her hips. With her hands tensed like this, Paul observed the unmistakeable bulges of muscle that popped from her arms. Britney looked really strong and her muscles shocked her big brother. He worked overtime to delude himself on the matter, but macho-male ego aside, he knew he didn't have nice round biceps like hers. And she suddenly seemed kind of confident. The expression on her face, it wasn't a smile, more like a knowing look, like she knew she was strong. She was sure of herself.
Britney racked up a few more victories against some 20something females who never stood a chance. Then Vinny had to take on the teenage girl with the great biceps. Britney quickly showed him that her muscles were not just for show. Her bicep hardened like a rock as he groaned against her. He couldn't move the girl's arm. Britney forced him down in 15 dominant seconds. "Oh my God..." Vinny gasped, shaking out his beaten arm. Paul gulped hard.
Finally, it came down to what Paul had been fearing for some time. Britney was pitted against him. He tried to make light of it, being funny and nonchallant with her. He smiled and said, "Okay, Tough Girl, let's see what you're made of!" He put his elbow up on the table.
"Okay," she said, half-shrugging at his little act. She gripped his hand solidly, causing her bicep to bulge again. He felt her tight grasp and was not pleased. Paul glanced under the table at his sister, whose legs looked very powerful and muscular in her tight shorts and sandals. Britney's legs had gotten like that about a year ago. He'd noticed that her calves had gotten really huge and built and fatter than his. Her thighs too, were swollen and had muscle in them that you could see when she walked (or sat). Britney was not weak-looking. She was a robust girl, well-shaped and powerfully-built. Paul, at 5'9" and 139 pounds wondered if she could have weighed more than him (since her muscular proportions were so generous. Then he decided that she did not. But Britney, at 5'5" and 147 pounds, did.
The ref said, "Go!" and the two started pushing. Paul pushed as hard as he could right away, out of fear. He could not bear to lose to her, not now, not like this, not in front of all these people. He was determined to beat her and beat her fast. He was not going to endure all the crap his friends would lay on him, otherwise.
Determination was one thing, but strength was another. As he pushed, Paul's arm looked like tightened mush next to his sister's little boulder. Paul pushed and pushed, but Britney's arm was not moving. She didn't seem to be able to push his either, so Paul figured he could wear her out. He kept fighting.
But as the seconds continued to tick, Britney did not soften or give or even look fatigued. Paul, however, was beginning to strain. He was straining against the younger teenage girl who he had picked on and bullied his whole childhood. He strained and strained against her, trying to take the advantage, trying to gain an inch. Britney's arm was a rock. It didn't budge.
Paul began breathing hard and his face was getting red. Britney's face was serious, but calm. She looked like she was holding Paul and having an easier time of it than him. Paul surged, gritting his teeth and straining with all his might. He grunted with all the force he could muster. Britney's arm moved down a little bit and then came back up. He tried again to move it like this, but he had nothing left. His arm was shaking now and this was growing very embarrassing.
Britney grinned at his weakening arm. "What's the matter, Paul?" Paul frowned at the smiling little 14 year old. "Am I too tough for you?"
"N-n-no," Paul stammered in between his heavy, labored breathing. Britney knew she had her big brother beat and the strong teenager began to play with him, letting him gain a little ground on her and then forcing his weak, helpless arm back up. She did it again and again and again and again, watching the distraught look on his face each time she did it. She giggled. She liked toying with her brother's ego like this. And she liked knowing she was stronger. She loved it. It was exciting.
"Aw, Man, she is shaming you!" exclaimed Bob with an amused huff. Paul's face was bright-red. His breathing was loud and increasing. His thin arm was shaking pathetically against his sister, using only half her arm strength now. "Just give up, you little wuss. She's got you," he continued.
"No...she...I'm...still...gonna...win..." he hissed through his grit teeth.
"Yeah, right," Britney said. Then she pushed a lot harder and her brother let out a gasp as he felt himself totally overwhelmed. Paul's arm flopped to the table meekly. "Oh my God..." he whined as she crushed his hand into the hard surface, painfully. Paul pulled his limp hand away hers. He tried to avoid eye-contact with the crowd there as he cradled his sore, defeated arm into his body. Britney stood up and put her hands on her hips again, her triumphant posture said it all. She'd banished her big brother with her strong muscles. Looking at her body now, it was obvious what a solid muscle girl she was. She could have beaten him 100 times in a row.
She went on in the tournament to lose to Bob and finish 3rd, below him and Jerry and above her big brother. Later, Paul tried to mess with her and put her down, saying, "Hey, Britney, isn't it passed your bedtime?"
Britney looked up at her lanky tormentor and felt unafraid. "Shutup, Paul. Don't make me kick your ass, you little wimp." Paul was stunned by her words, frozen stiff with humiliation and terror. She turned around and bounced away to hang with her friends again. Paul looked at her broad, strong back that looked like she'd been doing bench-presses or something. People gave him sad looks like they felt sorry for him. He just glanced at them, trying to seem okay. But his face was pale. And he didn't say a word.
-
My Little Sister Gets Stronger Than Me
By IndustrialFlesh
Aug. 2nd, 2000
"Now do you get it?"
"Yeah, I think so. Thanks, Paul."
"No problem." I didn't mind helping Claudia with her math homework when she needed it. She was a good kid. We got along. Besides, I'd learned all that stuff already. She was in 8th grade and I was in 12th. Sometimes we teased each other, but it was all pretty friendly. Mom and Dad were away for the week and we were taking care of each other. It was kind of fun.
"Okay, Kiddo," I said, patting her shoulder and standing up to leave the room. But as I patted her arm, I noticed that it felt kind of solid. "Hey..." I said, in wonder. She looked up at me. "Your arm is..."
"Oh, I've been lifting weights."
This was a kick in the head. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"Oh. Where, at school? Or..."
"No, Cory and I have been using your weight set in the basement. Is that okay?"
"Uh...yeah. Sure. It's fine. You and Cory, huh? Um, why-why are you lifting weights?"
"We want to get muscles."
"Oh. Well...I guess, that's the way to get 'em."
"You sure it's okay? I mean, if you don't want me using your weights..."
"No, no, it's fine. It's great."
She smiled at me. "Oh, good."
"So, you want muscles, huh?" I asked, trying to get used to the idea, trying to swallow the concept.
She spoke excitedly now. "Yeah, we've been training for a couple of months now and I think it's working. Wanna see my muscles?"
"Sure."
Claudia rolled her sleeves up to her shoulders and flexed her biceps. I was shocked as I watched them harden into two little bulges. What muscles she had. They were only slightly smaller than mine and very round. I'd never seen a young girl with muscles like this. And I couldn't believe that my little sister had them. "Wow. Those are strong looking muscles, Claudia."
"They are strong," she said, proudly, flexing them harder, making them jump a little for me.
"Boy, you must be working hard."
"I am. You wanna feel it? It's hard."
"No, that's alright. I gotta book. I'm meeting Tom and some other guys."
"Okay, Mike. I have to go downstairs and lift weights anyway."
"Yeah, well, feel free and let me know if you need any help. But don't work out too much, Claudia. I'd hate to think what you would do if you ever got stronger than me," I laughed.
She looked at me and giggled, "Who knows, Mike, maybe I am already." I laughed and walked out of the room. Claudia was such a kidder. Still, her muscles really were quite impressive. For an instant I imagined her suggestion being real. My little sister being stronger - now there was something I could never live down.
The next day, Claudia and I cooked dinner together. We were talking about stuff, about school, in particular and I kept looking at her. I kept looking at her body. She was wearing a T-shirt and loose sweatpants. She looked pretty normal to me, despite the fact that I knew she had those biceps hidden in her sleeves. I'd stopped listening when Claudia said, "You know, we were arm-wrestling in school today. Cory and I beat all the boys."
"Really?" I asked, trying to sound interested, without being threatened. "I'll bet they didn't like that." I remembered what that was like - the fear of a girl being stronger. It was the worst thing in the world.
"Yeah. They didn't. They were embarrassed that we were so strong."
"I'll bet," I said, encouragingly. "Who's gonna do the dishes?"
"I have an idea, Mike. Why don't we arm-wrestle and whoever loses has to do the dishes."
I looked at her, bewildered at the suggestion. "Are you kidding, Claudia? You're only 14. I'm 18 and a guy and I'm a lot bigger than you. That doesn't seem like a very fair bet. I'll beat you easily."
She put her hands on her hips and said, "Well, I don't know about that. I can handle all the weight in your weight set and I feel pretty strong, strong enough to give you a good challenge, maybe even beat you."
I was taken aback by this. "Uhh...well...okay, if you feel that confident and you really want to do this, we can arm-wrestle for dishwork."
"Cool!"
We walked over to the round table in the kitchen and sat down. "Are you really so interested in getting out of doing the dishes?"
"Well, no. That's not really it. I just want to see if I'm strong enough to take you." She couldn't hold back a big, embarrassed smile spreading across her face. She looked really cute. I was always proud of the fact that she was such a cute girl.
"Well, then let's see you take me," I said, playfully. We placed our elbows on the the table and grabbed hands.
"Okay, Mike. Are you ready to lose?"
"I hope you are, Kiddo."
"Count 3 and then go," she commanded.
"Alright. 1-2-3-Go!" Claudia immediately tightened her grip on my hand and I have to admit that she was stronger than I thought. I held my hand steady, straight up because I didn't want to make her feel bad by beating her right away. Then I began to slowly increase the pressure. To my surprise, my added force wasn't moving her hand back at all. We were still holding firm and in the start position. Then I started to pour on a bit more force and her arm began to give a little, but not as much as I thought it would. I looked at her face and she was straining with everything she had. Our hands began to tremble from the exertion, but I continued to press on and she continued to lose ground. I looked down at her bicep and it was really pumped from the strain. It looked almost as big as mine.
Gradually and with much effort, I pushed her hand down further until it was only an inch from the table. Still, she was hanging on, gritting her teeth and holding my arm up. I pushed down on it harder and harder, but she continued to hold me up. Jesus! I couldn't believe she was this strong! I was straining with all my might, but her arm would not go down. Her arm held for about 30 seconds like this and then, finally, her hand touched the table.
"Ugh!" she grunted as she was defeated. I looked down at her very pumped arm and then into her eyes. She shook out her arm and looked up at me with a strange expression on her face. She was disappointed, obviously, but she also looked kind of proud, I guess because she recognized how tough it was for me to beat her. The same thing was registering in my mind. I had beaten her only with great difficulty and it was very disconcerting. Still, as disturbed as I was, all I could do was feign coolness and act like I was respectfully impressed.
"Wow," I said. "You're really strong, Claudia." She still didn't say anything for a moment, like she was still pondering. I could see it on her face, the realization that I'd barely beaten her and that it had taken everything I had and then some.
Then she smiled. "But I'm still not as strong as my big brother."
"Yeah, well, just barely...Man...I can see why you beat all the boys in your grade..."
"Cory did too."
"If she's working out with you, I can believe it...strong..." Claudia grinned at this. She really seemed to enjoy this attention from me and as I was massaging my arm which flopped with exhaustion, Claudia raised her right arm, the arm I'd just beaten and made a muscle for me. A peaked ball of steel rose from her arm and stood proudly before me.
"Big, huh?" she said, proudly.
"Oh, yeah." What else could I say? "I'm gonna have to start working out, myself, just to stay ahead of you."
"I think you might have to, Mike," she said flexing both biceps now, "because Cory and I are getting bigger and stronger every day and we're gonna keep working out. Now that I know we are so closely matched, I have a goal to work for. I want to beat you at arm-wrestling."
I smiled weakly at this. "Well, I'm pretty scared there, Kiddo, but I'm not gonna make it easy on you. I'm still the older brother in this house. Now go clean the dishes, a bet's a bet."
"Yes, Sir," she said, standing at attention and saluting me. Her right bicep grew big as she saluted. I just stared at it and swallowed. Claudia began to do the chore.
A few weeks went by and I witnessed Cory coming over and joining Claudia in the basement after school. I could here the barbells clanging, the plates slapping together and then sliding apart and I could hear the girls coaching each other on, their girlish voices shrieking encouragement and then giggling when the set was over. "Whew, you're getting big, Claudia..."
"That's right..." It went on for hours. I told myself I was gonna get back on a weight-training regimen...tomorrow, but tomorrow never seemed to come for me. Well, whatever, it wasn't like I wasn't in good shape or anything. After all, I had a girlfriend, currently and I was getting popular enough in school. I had a pretty good body, so what was the big deal?
One day, Claudia came up to me with a tape measure in her hand and said, "Hey, Mike let's measure bicep muscles." Cory was with her, grinning.
"Umm...okay." I made a muscle for her and she wrapped the tape around my arm carefully.
"Hmm...12 inches," she informed me. I nodded
"And what are you?"
She put the tape up to her own arm and Cory helped wrap it around her own mighty muscle.
Cory read the measurement. "She's 11 inches."
"See that? You've only got an inch on me, Mike," Claudia exclaimed.
"Yup," I said, matter-of-factly.
Months passed and every now and then, Claudia would see me and say, "I'm getting bigger, Mike..." in this teasingly, warning tone.
"I know," I'd sing back, nonchallantly.
"I'm getting stronger, Mike..."
"I'm sure you are." Sometimes she'd just flex her arms at me with a knowing smile. I acted cool about it, but all her taunting and flexing was getting to me. I eventually did hit the weights. I lifted a few times here and there. I probably worked out about 5 times over the next 4 months.
Our parents were away again and Claudia and I were splitting the house chores. One day after school, Claudia came up to me Cory right behind her and said, "Mike, you wanna arm-wrestle?"
"Why?" I asked innocently.
"Let's bet again. The winner has to do all the house chores for the rest of the week."
"Sounds like a tough bet," I said.
"It is," she smiled.
"So you really think you can take me, now, huh?"
"Well, I don't know, but I'd like to give it a try."
"You would, huh?"
"Yup and I hope you've been working out because I haven't gotten any weaker."
"Mm-hmm..." I oozed as amusedly as possible. "Listen to you..." Claudia and Cory both giggled, hysterically. "You really think you're all that, huh?..." Claudia was grinning, bashfully. "Well, alright. Let's go..." I sat down at the kitchen table and put my elbow up. Claudia, unzipped her warm-up suit and slung it down on the floor. She was wearing a white tanktop, tight on her, and her upperbody looked razor-sharp. Claudia had defined shoulders and steel biceps and the firmest chest I'd ever seen. She turned around to whisper something in Cory's ear and I took in her broad, well-muscled back. She looked like a wrestler or something.
"Claudia wants to know if you want to measure muscles first," Cory said.
"Sure. Why not?"
Cory put the tape measure up to my curled arm, which still stood at 12 inches. Then Claudia pumped one of her guns and my mouth went dry. It wasn't so much the size, which now measured 12 inches, the same as mine, it was bulbous shape and the hardness. Claudia had a pumped ball of muscle on her arm. She made it pop up a few times in front of me. She grinned as she saw my eyes grow wide.
"I told you my muscles were getting bigger," she said. Then she sat down at the table and we got down to business. I could see that my sister had been hitting the weights even harder than I thought, but I was still the guy sitting at this table and I didn't scare easy. I knew Claudia was tough, but I'd beaten her before and I'd beat her again. That was my mentality. We agreed that Cory would count off and then we grabbed hands.
Just as Cory said 3, Claudia tightened her grip on my hand to the point where it almost hurt. As we pushed, I looked at her arm and her muscles were tensed. We each held our ground for about 2 minutes when Claudia began to take a slight advantage over me. I couldn't believe this was happening. I was actually losing to my little sister who was 4 years younger than me. I pressed harder, trying to put my shoulder into it, but she continued to slowly push my hand toward the table as the look of confidence on her face grew more pronounced. Then I gave it everything I had and I managed to push her back to the upright position. I started to take her arm down slightly. We had been going for about 4 minutes now and my arm was starting to burn and I could see by the look on Claudia's face that she was feeling the same. Her face was contorted and she was beginning to grunt from the exertion. Just when I thought I was going to take her hand all the way down, she let out a loud, "Ugh!" and brought our hand back to the starting position. I could feel her moving my arm back up like she moved those weights downstairs, but I didn't give up. I stopped her at the top again and held there. Our arms remained locked for another minute as we fought off fatigue. Then Claudia mustered up another surge of strength that I couldn't fight. She seemed to put her shoulder into it and started to push my hand down toward the table. There was no way I was going to let this happen, so I used every ounce of strength I had left and was able to stop my hand from getting any closer to the table...but not for long. Claudia's swollen bicep muscle continued to push relentlessly and my arm began to get weaker and weaker against it, until she started my hand moving down again. As her forceful arm pushed mine down, her punishing grip began to hurt my hand. She bent my arm down to the table as if I'd never resisted at all. My arm looked like a limp noodle at the mercy of her steel-muscled arm.
"Oh my God," I murmered as my hand was crushed to the table.
"Ha! I did it! I beat you!"
"Ow," I moaned, yanking my weak arm from her brutal grasp. I grabbed at my sore, defeated limb in shame. "Oh...God...I don't believe it."
"I actually did it. I didn't think that I could, but I did it. My muscles are so strong and big! I can beat my older brother at arm-wrestling! These muscles are something, huh, Mike?" She flexed the arm that she had just beaten me with. I just gawked at my sister's mighty bicep that had humiliated me.
"Y-yeah," I said, feeling very dejected and inadequate. "I can't believe you're stronger than me."
"Oh, I am. Believe it." She continued to flex and unflex her strong bicep in my face.
I sighed hard. "Yeah..."
"Look at these muscles. Tell me how big and strong they are," she commanded.
"Okay, you're too strong for me. You've got some strong muscles there."
"Thank you, Mike. You were a worthy opponent, but these muscles were just a little too much for you, I think." I nodded weakly. She felt her hardened bicep and said, "Better get to those chores, Mike. You have a lot of work to do."
"Yeah, I know..."
"...And now that I can beat you at arm-wrestling, I'd like to play football with you guys on Saturday."
"Oh, I don't think that's a good idea, Claudia. Those games are really rough and you could get hurt."
"I want to play, Mike."
"Claudia, don't you think maybe you're getting a little too big for your britches?"
"No, but maybe my legs are getting too big for my britches with all the squatting I've been doing. See how big my legs are? They're bigger than yours." I observed that Claudia's leg muscles were pressing out of her tight sweatpants. She did have powerful legs, especially compared with mine. "Look at those skinny twigs," she said, pointing at my legs that failed to fill up my loose-fitting jeans. I folded my arms, defensively. "I'd like to see what happens when you boys go up against a girl with so much muscle as me."
"Claudia, we're talking about football here. It's a lot different than arm-wrestling."
"Well, if you don't let me play I'm going to tell all your friends that I can beat you at arm-wrestling. And if they don't believe me we can always have a re-match to see what you can do against this muscle. I promise, I'll beat you a lot faster next time, too."
I looked at her and said, "Okay. I'll see what I can do."
From that day on, life at home for me was a little odd because knowing that your little sister is stronger than you tend to do something to a guy's ego. Although she never told anybody about her superior strength, she knew that I knew she was stronger than me and it's a humiliating feeling.
Claudia did join in our Saturday football game a few weeks later. We'd never played football with someone who lifted weights like Claudia did. It was horrible. No one could tackle Claudia. Her big strong legs were too much to handle. This strong-legged girl would not go down. She dragged boys along, knocked boys down. She was so powerful, we all got to be afraid to tackle her because we were the ones getting hurt. And whenever she tackled someone, they crumpled to the ground, helplessly. My little sister's muscles were too strong to resist. On one play she ripped the ball right out of my hands and ran the other way. On another, she layed out my friend Tom so hard, he had the wind knocked out of him and had to sit down for a while.
In the final humiliation, Claudia piggybacked me home from the game, telling me how light I felt. As I sat atop her broad, thick-muscled back, she bounced down the sidewalk. I could feel her large leg muscles pumping powerfully below me. No one had ever piggybacked me the way she did, so easily and energetically, so unhindered by my weight. I felt so scrawny and weak. It was emasculating beyond words.
"Oh my God," I murmered. It was horrible.
Claudia just giggled. "Pretty strong, huh?"
-
Eva Built Up Her Muscles More Than Paul
By IndustrialFlesh
Aug. 2nd, 2000
Eva spelled her name Ewa, but it's actually pronounced Ava. She was Polish as in, born in Poland. She'd only been in the United States for 2 years, but her English was very good. Considering the short time she'd been here, her near-mastery of the language was nothing short of remarkable. Eva Oliarczyk was apparently very smart. Well, I also knew she was because she was taking classes at Baruch College, getting a BBA in Finance and Investing.
I met her on the subway, the number 6. It was one of those impetuous things. Only a few days earlier, my best friend and I had been talking about how sometimes we see women in the city that are just so gorgeous and sexy that we feel like walking right up to them and asking them out. Well, when I saw this beautiful little woman on the train, something just came over me. You had to see her. I could tell this was the worst she ever looked and that was pretty damn good.
Her straw-colored hair came down to her full jaw. It was a very cute cut, but it was a little mussed, as if she'd been doing some kind of physical work. She had large, blue-gray eyes and persed lips and wore a pleasant, almost friendly expression on her face.
What attracted me though was the rest of her. Clad in a cute, little skirt, she was short and compactly-built with very powerful-looking legs. They were big and solid-looking. However, their formidable size made me wonder if she wasn't just a little chunky. Her legs were bare and she wore flip-flops which showed off her fat feet and fat toes which she'd just had painted as evidenced by the cotton still between them. Then she lifted one leg and pulled the cotton out. As she did so, I observed her under-thigh which became very tight and defined. That told me that this girl's legs were not fat at all. They were muscle. I sighed in awe.
She was definitely worth making a fool of myself for so I went for it. I asked her for her name and her phone number. She laughed and gave them both to me. We hit it off from the first phone call and started going out. I quickly learned that Eva was not only very attractive, but incredibly charming. She had a wonderful sense of humor, she was sweet and like I've already said, very smart too. I really liked her.
I soon learned that she used to dance and was an ex-gymnast. Now she went to the gym quite often and had a personal trainer who pushed her really hard there. She did everything. She jogged, did ballet and lifted weights. Of course, I was very interested in all this. I asked her about what she did. She had more endurance than me. When she ran, she did 3 miles. When she lifted she did every bodypart: curls, flys, tris. What got me was hearing about the leg stuff. She told me she did squats and her trainer made her squat with very heavy weight.
One time, she told me, "My trainer made me do curls with 20 pounds. It almost keeled meee!" I laughed, but I was impressed. Another time she told me, "I do leg presses with 120 pounds. I could do more, but I don't want my legs to get too big." When I tried to clarify which exercise was the leg press, she corrected me, "No, not leg extensions. Leg presses. For extensions I usually do around 50 pounds." That was pretty impressive for a girl also.
The results of all this were visible...and tangible. I was struck by how broad her back was. It was thick and hard with muscle. Her back always filled up whatever top she wore, whether it was a T-shirt or a button-down blouse. When we were in a deli once, I gave her a hug and I was struck by how tough her back felt. My God, I thought, her back was harder than mine. I'm not exaggerating. All day, I kept feeling it and each time I was amazed. I asked her what she did for her back and she just sort of shrugged. "Oh, Paul, what are yoo sayeeng?" she cooed adorably. Turned out she did dips. That might have explained it.
Eva just had a totally amazing body. She was 5'1" and must have weighed around 115 pounds, but what pounds they were. This cute, little Polish girl had a back hard as rock. Her thighs were cut on the sides, like granite. Little muscles bulged in the outer-fronts of her thighs too. When she wore shorts, her thigh muscles pumped impressively as she walked. Those thighs were hard. I know because I felt them. It was all muscle. The tendons under her knees were tight. Her calves were nice and meaty too. Eva even had muscles in her arms. Sometimes when she moved her arms a certain way, I could see them. Once when we were swimming in the pool, I saw her bicep bulge as she grabbed the ladder. Later, I asked her to make a muscle for me. She resisted, but finally reluctantly gave in. She showed me a very hard bicep.
One time I asked her to flex her quadriceps for me. As she did, I could see the bulge of muscle over her knee stiffen. I felt it. It was so hard. I sure didn't have legs like hers. I was softer. This girl was hard. She was more muscular. Really. She was a good 8 inches shorter than me but her legs were as big as mine and much more built. She'd built her muscles much more than me. All that running and dancing and squatting. Her legs were obviously stronger than mine. "Wow..." I gasped. "Paul, those are my muscles..." she squeaked. And then she seemed embarrassed at how impressed I was. When I continued to feel them, she made them less hard. "Come on," I urged, "Don't do that! Make them as hard as you can." She just grinned and strolled away to the bathroom.
The other day we went into the Polish area of Brooklyn, Green Point so Eva could mail a package to her sister in Poland. As she stood there at the window of a shipping agency I admired her. She looked gorgeous. She wore a white button-down shirt and green, extra-short, shorts, little, ankle-high socks and black reebok sneakers. As I stared at her from behind, I actually saw her like I'd never seen her before. Sure, I'd always thought she was in great shape and I'd been impressed with her, but for some reason, at that moment I really saw her for what she was.
This little, 5'1" Polish girl with a face like an angel had an absolutely killer bod. She looked like a girl of iron, with a physique that competely put mine to shame. Her extremely wide back was wider than her hips and hulky. She had a great ass, rounded and hard from squats. Her legs were brawny and chiseled. They seemed to pop with hardness. Rigid, steel thighs. Robust, sinewy calves. She looked like a rock-climber or something. She looked like she could run a marathon, like she could run circles around me and the truth was that she could. She was physically superior to me.
When I asked her to wrestle, she was very timid about it. I kept pressing and pressing, begging and finally the little strong girl agreed...much to my detriment. The little Polish girl with the hard muscles was so strong...too strong. It was like wrestling a little bundle of iron. She was able to pick me up and throw me, control me, squeeze me very hard until it began to hurt. That well-built, well-trained body humiliated me. "Oh! Oh! Ahhhh!" I screamed as her headlock got too tight. "Paul, whad do yoo wan me to doo?" she asked, amused. "You see? I ahm strong." When her powerful legs bent my legs into paralysis, I yelped in pain again. "Paul, I theenk I am too strong for yoo." God, was she ever. Eva was simply physically superior to me. From that day on I knew I was the weaker one in the relationship.
-
My Younger Sister Proves Tougher Than I Thought
By IndustrialFlesh
My name is Tom. I'm on the soccer team in college. I was home for the summer, trying to laze around and not get a job too soon. I was still adjusting to dealing with being around my little sister, Melissa. She was a 7th grader and she was usually pretty obnoxious. I think it stemmed from being sort of a geek. She couldn't see that well so she had to wear pretty thick glasses. She was okay-looking, but a bit homely too. I was no model, but I had gotten a lot of coolness from being a good athlete and being funny. Melissa had neither of these things going for her. My parents had tried to push her into sports, swimming, if you consider that a real sport, but she didn't seem to be real good at anything.
It was a hot afternoon and Melissa was in the backyard making noise with her little twerp friend, Tracy. I rolled my eyes trying to watch T.V., but they were being really annoying. I walked outside and found them playing kickball. It looked like a pretty pathetic game to me. "Hi, Tom," Melissa said, looking at me through those thick glasses. I just groaned at her. She pitched to Tracy who kicked the ball right over to me. I trapped it with one foot and spun it up in the air. I began juggling with it. My record was 172.
"Tom, we're playing!" Melissa whined. "Give it back!" She came over and tried to get it, but that wasn't happening. I just turned the other way and kept juggling. I was doing good! 45, 46, 47... Melissa kept whining at me and whining. I said, "Wait until I'm done." "Nooooo!" she whined some more. "Fine. If you won't be patient then you will have to learn about patience." I turned and booted the ball up over the roof of our house. It didn't come down. I cackled. Melissa and Tracy just stood there dumbfounded.
"Tom!" she screamed.
"What?" I laughed.
"You have to get us a new ball."
"I don't think so, Babe."
"You have to."
"Make me."
"I could," she said.
I rolled my eyes. "Right. In your dreams."
"I could. I'm strong. I beat a boy at arm-wrestling."
"Uh-huh. Whatever."
"I did."
"Ooh...I'm real scared."
"You're mean!" cried Tracy.
"Why don't you go home, you little brat," I spat with satisfaction. These kids were really annoying me.
"No! She's my friend and we're playing. And you have to buy us a new ball now."
"If you say that again, you're going to regret it," I threatened.
"I'm not afraid of you, Tom! I could arm-wrestle you."
"Yeah, you could. And I'd kick your ass."
"N-no you wouldn't. I could..."
Oh, why did I even come outside? They were driving me nuts! "Fine. You wanna arm-wrestle, Melissa?"
"Yeah."
"You wanna arm-wrestle?...You think you're so tough."
"Yeah. And...and if I win. You have to buy us a new ball."
"Yeah. Right. Sure...Okay. Let's go, Geek Girl." We walked over to the lawn furniture in the corner of the yard. I sat down across from Melissa who knelt in the other chair. Tracy stood between us and watched with interest.
I was 5'9" and 137 pounds and in pretty good shape. My arms were not super or anything, but they were decent. Melissa was 5'2" and 119 pounds. I already said she was not an athletic girl, but in her shorts and T-shirt, she looked slightly solid. I guessed swimming kept her toned. I was surprised when Melissa rolled up her sleeve and showed a bicep that was practically as big as mine and plenty defined. I stared at it for a moment as she put her elbow up on the table. I finally grabbed her hand and intended to destroy her, quickly.
Tracy held our grasping hands up at the top and then said, "Go." I went for it right away, going for the slam. I pushed hard, going all-out. Melissa's arm went down several inches, but then she seemed to catch herself. She held me for a moment at about 60 degrees. But wanting to capitalize on my advantage, I poured it on and tried to put her down from there. I figured it would be easy. I was mistaken.
Melissa gritted her teeth and I could see her straining as I looked into her contorted little face. Then she grunted and I could feel her pushing my arm back up! I looked down at our arms as she moved me. I was apalled to see her arm muscle bulging out like a little ball. I tried to hold her back, but her strength kept coming. She brought my arm back up to the starting position where I was able to hold her.
Amazed that I hadn't already won, I doubled my efforts. I had held back just a tiny bit and now I had to call on what I had left in reserve. I clenched my teeth and really put my shoulder into it. Using my arm-length advantage I again took the lead, pushing her down to about 70 degrees. I tried to take her down from there, but she continued to hold me up. I could see her muscle looked really pumped as she pressed against me, resisting with more strength than I knew she had.
I kept pushing...pushing...pushing...and the strain was becoming tremendous. We had been going for a full two minutes and I was getting tired. Yet I pushed on from where I had her and managed to get her arm down to about 55 degrees or so. But my arm was being drained with each passing second. I looked at the younger girl who continued to fight like mad, her stubborn bicep refusing to let her forearm drop. She wasn't threatening to beat me, but it seemed I was having a harder time beating her than I had ever imagined I would.
I was already embarrassed that she was this tough to beat and I became further embarrassed as I found myself groaning and grunting for extra force. I surged again and again. Each surge was supposed to be my final push to end this and defeat her. But each attempt failed as Melissa countered my every push with too much strength for me to overcome.
I felt like I was throwing my whole body into it now. Melissa seemed to hold my whole body up. I pushed...I pressed...I powered...with all my might. Melissa's strong arm would not go down. I was panting now and I had almost nothing left. I gave it one final surge, letting out a gasp. Then my arm went to rubber. There was nothing there. Melissa's arm was still several inches from the table. I pulled my hand out of her grip and shook my arm.
"You see? You couldn't beat me," she said, proudly. I just looked at her. I didn't know what to say. Then she rolled up her other sleeve and did a double bicep pose. I couldn't believe Melissa's arms. Her muscles bulged and they were big. I wouldn't have wanted to compare my arms to hers.
"You're pretty strong," I said, trying to seem unaffected by this.
"Uh-huh," she said, looking at me in a way that made me feel really uncomfortable. Like she understood what it meant that I couldn't beat her. She was six years younger than me and yet she could hold her own against me in an arm-wrestling match. If there was a winner in the match it was her. She had shown me up and made it clear that she was very tough and very strong for a young girl. And as I looked at her I began to see that her back was quite broad, her shoulders buff and her biceps were terribly muscular. I began to feel a little intimidated. At the age of 13, her upper-body was easily as developed as mine. "I'm getting strong from swimming and I've been lifting weights," Melissa informed me. "You already cannot beat my muscles and I'm going to get stronger." She flexed her pumped biceps at me. They were like rocks. Are you afraid, Tom? Are you?" I couldn't say anything. I was.
My Younger Sister Gets Stonger
When I came home from school the following summer, Melissa had grown. I had a new girlfriend who was not far away and I wanted to spend all my time with her. Melissa went out with her other 8th grade friends from the swim team more. From what I could tell, she was spending more and more time working out. She kept telling me how she was going to the weight room. And she got up really early every morning to go running. Whenever she saw me she'd say, "Wanna arm-wrestle, Tom?" "No, I'm busy right now," I'd say as sincerely as I could. Next time she saw me, she'd say the same thing. "Now do you wanna arm-wrestle?" "No. I'm doing something," I'd say. Melissa kept bugging me and I really wanted to keep away from her as much as possible. It wasn't that I was afraid of her or anything. It's just that my little sister was turning into more and more of a jock and it was annoying. But my girlfriend, Gladys, said she really wanted to meet my little sister. I rolled my eyes and introduced them. They shook hands and Gladys later remarked that Melissa looked really fit in her spandex biker shorts and tank top. I just rolled my eyes. "Yeah, whatever..." I groaned. "Does she play a sport?" Gladys asked. "She swims," I said, more impatiently. I really didn't want my sister being the topic of conversation between us.
Finally, one day, Gladys and I were sunning in the back yard. Melissa came outside with one of her swim friends, Cindy. She was this flirty little brat who thought I liked her, which I did sort of, but only in a little sister's hot friend, crush kind of way. Cindy had a nice, in-shape body from swimming. In her bathing suit, she looked pretty sleek and rugged. She was a tight, toned 5'3" 120 pound girl. She looked strong. But Melissa looked stronger. Melissa was very muscular for her age and at 5'4" and 136 pounds, she weighed practically the same as me.
"Is is true that Melissa's stronger than you?" Cindy blurted out, giggling.
"No!" I shot back emphatically. "What the hell are you talking about?!" I was furious that they had started this crap in front of Gladys.
"Well, Melissa says she beat you arm-wrestling."
"That's bullshit!" I spat. "You're a little liar. You didn't beat me. You didn't beat me at all."
Gladys eyed me suspiciously. "Did she?"
I couldn't believe she was buying this crap. "No!" I hollered.
"You don't have to yell about it. Just prove she's a liar and settle this."
I shrugged. "Fine." I knew Melissa must have gotten stronger, having put on 17 pounds since we last wrestled. Of course, it wasn't her size that bothered me so much. It was how firm her muscles looked. "Let's see what you got, Big Brother," Melissa oozed. Then she flexed her biceps and I almost had a heart attack. She had 14 inch rocks that made her look like a teen bodybuilder or something. Her big guns put my arms to shame. I didn't dare compare biceps with her. My skinny arms were pathetic compared to her full, round muscles. "Wow. Look at her muscles," Gladys remarked. I was infuriated that she was acting so blatantly impressed with my sister. "Are your muscles that big?" she asked.
"No. They aren't," my sister said with a grin.
"Shut-up," I hissed at Melissa.
"Well, let's go, Big Man." We sat down on the lawn furniture and locked up. Melissa's arm swelled fatter than mine from the get-go. Cindy said, Go and we started. In 3 seconds, Melissa pulled my arm down to within inches of the table. I could mount almost no resistance. It felt like I didn't even have an arm. Melissa controlled me completely. Then she began to toy with me, letting me push her back up. Then she let me take her down to within a few inches. For a moment I thought I could press my attack and make her pay for being cocky. But then she said, "Ha! Psyche! You're too weak!" Then she crushed my arm down to the table like it was nothing. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I was humiliated by my little sister in front of my girlfriend. Melissa just grinned and said, "I'm stronger than you. I'm stronger than you." I eyed her and was stunned to silence.
Then my sister stepped over to where I was so she was between me and Gladys. She began to pump her bicep in my face and in my girlfriend's face. "Feel it. Feel it," she said to Gladys, who obliged. "It's like rock," Gladys said. "Go ahead. Make a muscle, big brother," Melissa said amused. I did and Melissa squeezed it down. "So soft," she said. Then Melissa made Gladys feel the difference between her big muscular ball and my stringy slab of flab. Gladys nodded as she felt the noticeable difference. "Hers is bigger and harder than yours," she said to me, almost a little annoyed. "Why is that?"
"Because he's a wimp," my sister said, sheepishly. "And I'm muscular." I was practically in tears at this humiliation. And that was nothing compared to what happened next. My sister said, "He used to pick on me a lot too. But that's over now, isn't it big brother." I just nodded, pathetically. I hoped she would leave it at that but she didn't. "Do you wanna wrestle, Tom? Just to see what it's like?" I shook my head, No. But Melissa got down in a kneeling position that showed off her muscular legs and said, "Come on. Don't be afraid." Getting really angry, I got down on the floor and went after her. Terrible mistake. Melissa was so much stronger than me. Her back was like granite and her whole body was like steel. She felt heavy and powerful and able to move me so easily. She controlled me and overpowered me and humiliated me even worse than before. She had me on the ropes fighting for my life, panting and groaning and trying to get her off me. Melissa was super-strong and there was not
I could do against her. She picked me up and spun me around. She pinned me again and again. She squeezed me hard and hurt me. I was literally frightened that she would hurt me, really hurt me, like injure me. Instead she just made me cry and scream. It was unreal.
Gladys dumped me the next day.
-
My Younger Sister Makes Me Sorry
By IndustrialFlesh
I'd been arguing with Jessica for almost an hour now. We only fought like this when there was no one in the house to stop us and this was one of those times. She was 14 and a 9th grader and I was 20 and in college, but home for the summer. Already, my little sister was driving me crazy. She was demanding that I drive her to the mall in the afternoon when the college football game was going to be on. "Dream on," I'd told her. Things escalated from there, with her asserting that Mom had told me I had to as a favor to her. I said that was before I knew the game was on. She told me I was selfish and inconsiderate and a jerk, big brother. Then I said, "Fuck you, you little bitch!"
Then Jessica stopped and took a step back. She put her hands on her hips and said, "What did you say?" Her tone was oddly calm. Her posture and the look she was giving me was threatening. And as she stood there planted with her arms bent on her hips, I saw that her arms were a little big for a girl her size. She was only 5'3" and I was 5'9" but her biceps were easily as big as mine. She was a swimmer and I knew she exercised more than me, but so what? She wasn't going to intimidate me with this tough girl act. She was just a little girl after all. Still, in the tanktop and shorts she was wearing, she looked muscular. Her back was broad and solid. Her legs were powerful. She looked like she'd been hitting the weights. I didn't really think there was anything to be afraid of, but at the same time, looking at those legs and those arms, I didn't want to mess with her either.
"Nothing," I said, rolling my eyes.
"No, say that again," she said, in the same threatening tone.
"Look, just forget it," I said, trying to brush her off. I turned to leave the room and Jessica put a hand on my chest and stopped me.
"No, what'd you say?" she asked again.
"Look Jessica, just drop it. Okay?"
"No, you better apologize."
"What?"
"Say you're sorry for what you said."
This was unbelievable and unacceptable. "No..." I tried to leave the room again. This time Jessica grabbed my shirt and pulled it up into a tight fist, pulling me along with it and pulling me off balance.
"You're not going anywhere," she hissed.
"The hell I'm not," I protested. Then I tried to pull my shirt out of her clenched fist. But her grip was so strong, I couldn't pull free. Jessica, however, was still able to pull me. She led me into the middle of the living room, with me resisting all the way, but her diesel legs gave her the advantage. She was like a little towtruck, dragging me and I suddenly seemed helpless. "What the hell are you doing?!" I hollered, hoping that yelling loudly at her would scare her.
She stared at me with a serious face, still holding me and said, "You can yell all you want. You're still going to say you're sorry." Then she pulled me into her body and wrapped her arms around me. It was a really tight bear-hug around my waist. Jessica was short, but she was holding me very strongly. I couldn't move. "You know, you look weak. You don't seem very strong," she said. I put my hands on her solid back and shoulders, trying to get free. But Jessica held me, tight, not letting go. "And you're mooshy...You're not in shape." Then she took me from where I stood and picked me up. She held me forcefully in her arms so my feet were off the floor "See how light you are?" she said, frowning. I felt embarrassed. By the things she was saying and what she was doing to me...the way she was able to handle me.
Then she set me back down and stuck one thick leg behind me. She tripped me easily and I landed on my back, the wind knocked out of me. Before I could get up, Jessica jumped on top of me. She straddled my torso with her limber, powerful legs and held me in place. I wriggled my arms to get out from under her, but then she took my wrists in each hand and pinned them back over my head. She held me pinned down like this for what seemed like forever. With me grunting and groaning and trying to fight my way up and out. But I just couldn't. She held me down and told me again that I wasn't going anywhere until I apologized for what I said.
I kept squirming and wriggling, but it was no use. Jessica was too strong. She really was stronger than me. I couldn't believe it. And it was humiliating. She was gripping my wrists so tightly that it began to hurt. And her muscular legs were getting heavy on me and that hurt too. I began to cry a little bit and I asked Jessica to please let me up. She said, "No. Not until you apologize." So I finally said sorry quietly, my face all red. Jessica said, "Okay." And she got up off of me. I sat up, but stayed, sitting on the floor. Jessica put her hands on her hips again, showing me the bulges in her arms once more. I looked up at her feeling really pathetic. She just sniffed and walked out of the room, looking very powerful and built. I understood now that swimmers could be very strong even young girls. I never messed with my strong younger sister again.
-
The Tennis Instructor Vs. the Stripper
By IndustrialFlesh
Sep. 7th, 2000
Ever since he was 13, Bob had liked strong girls. His current girlfriend, Lauren, was a 24 year old tennis stud. She was very athletic and strong and fit. At 5'4" and 135 pounds she had a defined and toned body that turned Bob on a lot. When necessary, she used her sexual powers over him to get what she wanted. She knew she took advantage of him and so did Bob, but generally, they were a happy couple.
He was a teacher, spending his summer writing a novel. She was a free-lance architect and private tennis instuctor, working at a tennis camp for 8 weeks. They decided to have a small dinner party and invited Bob's best friend, Skip over and told him to bring a date. Skip was a bit of a chick-magnet and he usually went out with impressive women, Bob always thought. But none could compare to Lauren who was so sexy because she was so in shape, especially when she was clad in her little tennis outfit: the short, pleted, white skirt, the white socks and tennis shoes.
When Skip arrived, Bob couldn't stop staring at his date. "Bob, Lauren, this is Tammi." Oh my God, what a babe, Bob thought as he looked her over. Her foxy, blond hair was up in pig-tails and her adorable green eyes beamed at him like she had a secret to tell. This lush cutie had a killer bod, too: shapely and solid. She was not a small girl either at 5'7" and tipping the scales at 153 pounds. She wore a cleavage-revealing bikini-top and tight leather shorts that seemed to disappear between her powerful thighs.
Lauren was immediately on the defensive and very perturbed to sense that she was no longer the hottest female in the room. Who was this little hussie? she wanted to know. When they sat down to eat, Lauren began firing away with the questions. Tammi was 22. She was from Alabama and...
"What do you do for a living?"
She smiled politely as she answered, melting Bob into warm butter. "Oh, I'm a dancer."
"A dancer? You mean like ballet?"
"No. I dance in clubs. I'm a go-go dancer."
"You're a stripper?"
She closed her eyes, smiling, bashfully. "Well, yeah..." Bob thought she was so friendly and absolutely charming. Her little hoarse voice and 'Bama accent was as soothing as it was sexy. Skip kept nudging Bob under the table about what a dish Tammi was. He knew she was the finest thing Bob had ever seen in the flesh and what gorgeous flesh it was.
Pretty soon, Lauren was going for the jugular. "Do like being a stripper?"
"Sure. I like it. It's great."
Lauren's eyes stared with interest and skepticism. "What's great about it?"
"Well, I get to dance and talk to people and the money is great. I like the music they play in most of the places. And it keeps me in shape."
What nonsense. But this last point Lauren especially wanted to jump on. "Really? You feel it keeps you in shape?"
"Oh yeah! Dancing is so good for your body, you know?"
"Yeah right. Well, whatever. I just find that interesting because you know, I'm a tennis instructor. I jog and work out. I really keep fit you know?"
"Yeah, you look it," Tammi smiled her friendliest smile, trying to get along with her host.
"I mean, I find it hard to believe that you could be in really good shape, if all you do is dance. That's not a real workout."
Tammi nodded. "Oh, but it really is! It's everything. It's aerobic. It works your muscles really hard."
"Well, I'm a semi-pro tennis player and trust me, there's a difference between being a stripper and being a real athlete."
"No, I know, but dancing really is tough. People don't know."
"Okay, I'm going to have to stop you right there. You might be in slightly better shape than the average girl, but I don't think you would stand a chance against me at anything physical. Sorry."
"Well, I don't know. You mean like tennis?"
Lauren rolled her eyes. "No, not like tennis. Obviously I could whip you at tennis. I mean anything."
"Well, I think maybe I could. I wrestle my boyfriend sometimes and he thinks I'm strong."
"Yeah, I'll bet," Lauren quipped. "Fine you wanna wrestle?"
Hesitant, unsure and surprised by all this, Tammi agreed, "Okay." The men were in heaven. Bob and Skip were kicking each other under the table and exchanging triumphant looks. This was better than the playboy channel.
Lauren went into the bedroom to change out of her evening clothes and into something sporty. She came out in biker shorts and a tanktop. She looked rugged and strong. Tammi kicked off her platform sandals. Even her feet and painted toes were cute, Bob observed with longing. She had killer ankles and her calves were kind of powerful looking. Tammi's plump muscles were to die for. Even Lauren didn't have proportions like these.
Bob and Skip watched with excitement as the two young women began to wrestle. Tammi was slow and tentative where Lauren let her resentment fuel her attack. She was aggressive and confident as she ripped into the chunkier girl. She would show this sleaze what strength was. She took a quick lead in the battle, although right off the bat, as Tammi took hold of her wrists, she noticed that the stripper had a fiercely, strong grip.
A minute later, Tammi flipped the tennis pro over very forcefully. Lauren felt herself controlled by the larger girl in a way that made her uneasy. Annoyed had having to go on the defensive so soon, she struggled and squirmed to get out from under Tammi. The chunky stripper outweighed her by 18 pounds and easily kept Lauren on the ropes. Before she knew what was happening, Tammi wrapped her bulk around her and began to crush her like a ragdoll. Lauren was completely limp and helpless as Tammi rolled her over and squeezed her with her arms and legs. Lauren was choking in the stripper's brutal headlock and her torso was being rendered by the girl's trunk-like legs below.
Then Tammi really put some muscle into it and Lauren's face turned blue. She gagged and coughed as she writhed in pain and suffering. Tammi was physically dominating her and she was profoundly embarrassed. She wanted to stop this, but was powerless against Tammi's brute strength. With her fist, she pounded on Tammi's broad back finding it solid and invulnerable to pain.
Looking at both girls' physiques rolling around on the floor like this, the boys could easily see that compared to Lauren, Tammi was like a bodybuilder, a bulked up dancer. She had big, bulbous muscles and was much more powerful than a little tennis player like Lauren. Tammi was a hulk of a girl from her large biceps and shoulders to her tremendously stout leg muscles which made Lauren's look like twigs.
"Had enough of this?" Tammi asked crushing her prey some more and listening to Lauren's groans of agony. "Do ya give?" She was as cheerful and perky as ever. Lauren answered with a series of embarrassing grunts and moans. "Give?" Tammi asked again
"I...give!..." Lauren choked out. Tammi let go of Lauren, who rolled out of her pythonic grasp with desperation and relief. She was panting out of breath.
"I told you I'm pretty tough," Tammi said with a sweet smile. People don't know how strong strippers are. Some of us are very strong."
-
Strong Seduction
by Industrialflesh
It was a rainy Sunday afternoon. Kirsten, and I had just finished watching a movie. I smiled at her, her pretty red hair and blue eyes. She smiled back, but I could tell something was bothering her.
"What is it?
"Nothing. Just…the movie…
"What about it?
"I hate how they always show the guy sexually dominate the girl.
"What do you mean?
"I mean, its always the guy being the strong one and seducing the helpless girl.
"So
She looked at me, still smiling, but showing some annoyance.
"So? Its sexist.
"I don’t know if its sexist
"It is. Why does the guy always have to be the strong one?
"Maybe its just realistic. Aren’t guys usually stronger than girls?
"Sometimes they are. But sometimes girls are strong too.
"I guess. But girls aren’t usually strong in that way. They’re never sexual in a physically dominant way. Men are always the aggressor. Men are always stronger.
She folded her arms. "Oh, really?
"Um. Yeah, I said, sounding a little bit like a wiseass. I could sense her challenging posture, but I didn’t care. I thought I was right, so what was the big deal?
"Well, I don’t know about that. I think I’m pretty strong.
"Strong how? I asked, a little skeptical about where she was going with this.
"You know, strong.
"I don’t know. What are you talking about?
"Nothing. I’m just saying…I’m pretty big. That’s all. I have strong muscles.
I laughed, nervously. "Well, lets not exaggerate, Kirsten. You’re okay. You’re no bodybuilder
"I know, I’m not a bodybuilder…but am big. And I’m tight. I’m not a soft girl, Dan. I go to the gym. That’s why everything on me is solid."
I was surprised by the way she was talking about herself, so confident and self-assured. "Everything on you is solid? I mocked.
"You know its true. You feel my body and you know I have muscle.
"Like I said. I think you’re exaggerating a little bit, Kirsten, but it is cute."
"Oh, you think its cute, huh? Well, why don’t we have a contest then?
"A contest?
"Yeah. A strength and seduction contest. Lets see who can physically and sexually dominate who here. I just stared at her in surprise. I was 26 years old and Kirsten was 24. We had been going out for 6 months and she had never proposed anything like this before. I thought it was odd and it made me a little uncomfortable, but I wasn’t about to back down to her bravado. No way.
"Uhh…Okay, I said, shrugging. "How do we do that?"
"Like this, Kirsten said. Then she grabbed my arms and started pulling me off the couch. I pulled back, but Kirsten was pretty strong. She pulled me down on to the floor. Then we faced off on our knees and intertwined our fingers. We started to play a little game of Mercy. She gritted her teeth as she twisted my wrists inward, gaining the upper-hand. I fought back hard, jerking my whole body to get out. I pulled and pulled and finally wrenched my hands from her strong grip. I winced, as it hurt a little bit. She grinned at this.
"Sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt ya," she chirped. I looked at Kirsten, still kneeling in front of me. She was a big girl. She was 5''8" and had often bragged that she weighed 166 pounds because she was mostly muscle on her big frame. She had been a soccer player in college and she still went to the gym all the time. Her legs looked big and strong in her steel-tight jeans. Her arms were muscular and her back looked built in the clingy top she wore. I was 5 9 and weighed only 147. I knew I was thinner than my girlfriend, but I still had every expectation of beating her at her little game.
I dove at her, tackling her on to her back. She felt heavy and tough and she went down more grudgingly than I expected. I climbed on top of her trying to pin her flat. I could feel the strength in her abs as she instinctively crunched to keep her back off the floor. I climbed higher on her and still managed to push her arms down with my hands and then I straddled her with my legs. But she grit her teeth and her arms began to press up on mine very hard. As she pressed, I couldn’t hold her arms down. I strained against her, but her bicep muscles bulged and she pushed my arms up and held them there. She kicked her legs powerfully and broke out of my thin thighs. Then she wrapped her legs around my middle and locked her ankles. I gasped as she squeezed me with her legs. She put me in a headlock. Her tensed bicep expanded and trapped my neck tight. I was still on top, but Kirsten was taking control. I knew shed been lifting weights, but I hadn’t expected what was happening. My girlfriend was quickly showing me who was stronger.
I wiggled myself around, squirming and tugging to get free, but Kirsten giggled and held me tight. She was big and muscular and she was as strong as she looked. She easily rolled me over so she was on top and I was on the bottom. Then she released the headlock and grasped my wrists very hard. She pinned my arms over my head and wound her legs around mine, taking them into a grapevine. She grunted and spread my thighs apart in a humiliating show of dominance.
"Ooh!" I gasped with embarrassment.
"Gotcha, Hon she cued. I grunted and gasped as I tried to get free. But I couldnt even move. "You’re not going anywhere, she whispered in my ear. "No way out, Baby. Her legs were bigger and stronger than mine and she began to bend them back past their limits. She stretched my mushy legs outward like she was going to snap them at the knees.
"Oh…Ow…I moaned. She kept dominating me like this. "Oh, oh, oh…Ow…ow…
"How’s that? she asked pleasantly.
"Oh…Kirsten…
"I’m stronger than you, Baby…
"Kirsten…my knees…
"Uh-huh… she said, confidently. Then she let go of my aching legs and pulled me up so I was in a sitting position. She squatted up and plopped on the couch behind her. Still holding my wrists, she yanked me up off the floor like my weight was nothing. I could not resist her as she dragged me on to her lap and pulled my back to her chest.
"Kirsten… I moaned as her strong arms hugged me tightly. She began to suck on my neck expertly. I kept moaning, "Ohhh… Her big, powerful legs bounced me playfully as she sucked. My hands felt her defined biceps that were like rocks as they wrapped tighter around me, squeezing me so I could barely breathe. Kirsten was so strong! She sucked my neck harder. It hurt and it felt incredible at the same time. I couldnt get out and I couldn’t stop her from doing what she was doing. She was dominating me so easily.
"Now whos the dominant one? Kirsten asked.
I couldn’t answer. All I could do was moan. "Ohhh… Then to my shock, she unzipped my pants and pulled it out.
"Ooh. What do we have here? she asked. Still holding me securely with one arm, she began to jerk me off with her hand. If felt amazing. Between sitting like a baby on her strong legs and her forceful arm keeping me on her lap and her incredible neck-sucking, I could not control myself. She squeezed semen out of me in no time. I felt like small, thin and helpless, writhing and convulsing on Kirsten’s lap and she showed me I could not overpower her, no matter how excited I got. She kept me where she wanted and continued to jerk and jerk, exploiting her power over me to the fullest. I shot again and again and I shut my eyes and threw my head back on the girls big shoulder. I couldn’t believe how good this felt. My girlfriend had dominated me sexually, by being physically stronger. She loved it and so did I. And as I soon learned, it was only the beginning.
-
Thought I might post my favorite, karma if you enjoy.
Jennifer Dominates Me - Little Sister's Muscles Are Bigger
by Industrial Flesh
The following events are absolutely true. This story is factual. It really happened as much as I hate to admit it. It occurred last year when I was a Freshmen in college. I am not making any of this up.
My name is Dan Schulman. I grew up in Orange County, New Jersey. I attend University of Wisconsin at Madison as an Economics major. I'm a smart guy and a good student. I'm pretty good-looking and have a girlfriend at school, Margaret. She's from Long Island. I have a lot of interests, writing, movies and sports. I'm not a big guy and I don't play anything in college, but I was big into soccer in high school. I led the team in goals one year.
I have a little sister, Jennifer. She's a pretty nice kid. She was kind of cute and funny. We got along better than your usual brother/sister combo because we grew up in a stressful home. That's what my therapist told me, anyway. Because things were rough sometimes with our father, she and I had grown closer to compensate. We leaned on each other. You know, basically, we just talked about stuff sometimes and that helped. Besides that, we were pretty typical. I did my thing and she did her thing and when we got in each other's way we had your typical brother/sister fight.
This story occurred when I was 20, and in my second year at Wisconsin and Jennifer was 15 and in 9th grade. Our family went on vacation every year to a resort in the Bahamas, Paradise Island. It was like a cheaper ClubMed and it was really cool. I remember the smell of the hotel. Everything smelled so new and green. The carpeting in the long hallways were soft and when no one was around I would run up and down them to the soda machine and game room. It was fun.
Our parents would go to the adult shows and the casino at night and Jennifer and I would be left to our own devices. We played video games and air hockey and watched a lot of pay-per-view. We talked a little bit about stuff. She told me about guys in her class at school, guys she liked and guys who were jerks. I told her about Margaret and how much I missed her. And I told Jennifer this was definitely my last family vacation. She said she was sorry to hear that, but she understood why.
Each night, I'd race Jennifer to the rec room and I'd always beat her by a few steps. She was pretty fast, but I had longer legs and longer strides and that was always a big advantage. One night we raced down to the pool. I gave Jennifer a little headstart and then I took off after her. I watched her towel fly out behind her as she tore down the hallway. But my long legs accelerated me past her as we approached the turn. I came around the corner in the lead.
I slipped into the pool area where there was no lifeguard and the place was empty. I jumped into the heated water and began swimming around. I was still out of breath from the race. While my back was turned, I heard Jennifer PLOP into the water behind me. I turned and watched her stroke through the water. We played MarcoPolo for a while and then that game turned into water-wrestling. We kept picking each other up in the water.
First, I picked her up and I was surprised by how heavy she was in the water. Jennifer had grown since I'd been away and she seemed kind of big for a young girl. Her back was thick and her shoulders were broad. She felt real solid, too.
Then she would pick me up. She picked me up easily. I felt light in her arms. We tussled around, pushing and shoving and stuff. A couple of times, Jennifer tripped me too, making me stagger in the water. This made her giggle, but it made me a little uneasy. Being younger and a girl, I didn't think she should be able to do that to me. But she did it again and again. Then, she wrapped her arms around me from behind, very tightly. I fell limp. Then she actually yanked me off my feet and shook me in the water, roughly. She giggled with delight as she handled me. I just felt more and more uneasy.
Suddenly feeling kind of weird, I climbed out of the pool to get away from my rough-housing sister. I pretended to be interested in the adjoining fitness center. It was around 8pm and no one was in there either. There were machines and weights and things and a TV up in one corner talking about the island events. I sat down on one universal apparatus. It was for leg extensions and I began to perform the exercise. First it was too light at only 10 pounds so I set it to 30. That felt just right. Jennifer appeared in the doorway. She had toweled off, but her hair was still a little wet. She had it up in a cute ponytail. She wore little shorts and a tanktop on over her damp bathing suit. I looked at her blankly as I did my exercises.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Working out."
"Working out?"
"Yup."
"Can we take turns?" she asked.
"Sure. Why not?"
I finished my set, having done 15 reps. It felt like plenty. I got up and let Jennifer get on. As she sat down, I noticed her big thighs. Fat and round and solid. Her calves were big too, real powerful-looking. Jennifer was not athletic at all, but it seemed she had more muscle in her legs than I did. She quickly made mince meat out of the leg extension machine, commenting that it was too light.
She added 10 pounds and tried again. "Still too light." Added 10 and tried again. "Still too light." Added 10 and pushed the weight up. "That's good," she said. She did 15 easy reps with 60 pounds, as easy as I had done 30. Then she squatted up sturdily and side-stepped over me. I climbed back on to the apparatus and not wanting to use a lower weight than my sister, had no choice but to up the weight. I upped it to 70 thinking that would be enough to be better. Just so long as I lifted more than her, I told myself. I did 7 slow, labored reps. Shit, this was a lot of weight. It was heavy. I climbed off feeling the muscular fatigue in my thighs.
Jennifer got back on and without adjusting the weight, pumped out 12 impressive reps. She did 5 more than me and her reps seemed easier for her than mine were for me. I stared at her legs, which looked way more solid than mine now. Her legs looked strong and built. Mine looked flimsy and not-so-built. I felt pathetic.
Jennifer got back on and did another 12 with 70 pounds. "Mmm!" she grunted as she finished. "That's hard." She bounced up and walked away from the machine looking very jockey. I sat down and hoped she wasn't watching as I did 5 pathetic reps. Then Jennifer got back on and did 10 reps with 70 pounds. She climbed off the thing and bounded away again. She seemed to be watching TV and I prayed that she was as I did my next set. 3 reps that left my legs shaking and quivering weakly. My face turned white as Jennifer got back on and upped the weight to 90. "Oh my God," I thought to myself as my younger sister did 6 tough reps. I don't think I could have done one rep with the weight she had on. Jennifer stood up from the machine, her thighs swelling with hardness. I could see her quads bulging as she walked away.
I stood 10 feet away, but I could feel Jennifer's eyes on me. I tried to appear interested in what was on the TV. "I think I might want to watch this up in the room," I said.
"Aren't you going to try this weight?" Jennifer asked.
I squinted at her, thoughtfully. "Nah. I think I'm done for tonight."
"Come on. Try it. It's real heavy. It feels good on your legs," she insisted, patting her swollen thighs.
"Nah. I'm gonna go up."
"But Dan. That means I did an extra set and with more weight than you. And I'm a girl. That doesn't seem right."
I folded my arms and frowned. What the hell was she trying to pull here? When she put it that way, I kind of had to give it a go. "Okay," I said, reluctantly. Then I sat back down on the apparatus and went to push the weight up. I couldn't budge it. I grunted and strained to move the weight my sister's legs had pressed 6 times. It was impossible for me. I was soon out of breath and feeling very embarrassed. I looked up at my little sister.
Jennifer smiled knowingly. "You're pretty weak. Look at those thin thighs." I felt my cheeks turn bright red. "When did you get so small, Dan?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye.
"I-I'm not small," I said, trying not to sound defensive.
"Yes, you are. You're a little man. I'm your younger sister and my muscles are bigger than yours."
"Your legs may be a little bigger..."
"I think I have bigger arms too," she said, pumping her right arm so a big bicep popped up.
Then she did the other one. I just clenched my lips bitterly and swallowed hard. Seeing how threatened I was, the proud teenager pumped her guns at me and needled, "Come on, Little Man, let's see those toothpicks you call arms." My arms remained at my side for it was clear I could not compete with my younger sister's biceps any more than I could match her powerful legs. It was sadly obvious that Jennifer's muscles were bigger and harder than mine.
I just stood there stupidly as the teenager showed me her superior physique. She put her hands on her hips and looked down at her buff bod.
"I guess when the genes were handed down, I got all the muscle." As she admired herself she asked, "Did you know I was stronger than you, Dan? Cause I never realized it until now."
"Well, you're not...stronger...you're..."
She laughed at me, "You don't think I'm stronger?" Then with surprising quickness, she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into her. All I could do was put my hands on her muscular back and try to pry myself free. She squeezed me very tight, crushing me, making me gasp and go limp. I couldn't get out at all. I didn't even try, she was so strong. At this point, I knew she could see the fear and humiliation on my face. She just grinned up at me. "Are you sure I'm not stronger?" She choked up on me even tighter, making me feel thin and fragile. "Sure feels like I am." Suddenly, she bent down and scooped me up off my feet, taking my legs, handily in one arm, and holding my torso in her other arm. "Silly Little Man," she cued. Cradling me like a baby she walked to the edge of the pool and threw me. I flailed through the air and crashed chest-first into the water.
I climbed out of the pool, dragging my wounded pride with me. "Alright, that's enough," I growled. I stalked toward her and then around her. I picked up a towel to dry off.
"This is really funny," she blurted out. "I never thought I'd be stronger than you, Dan, but I am. It's so weird." Then before I knew what was happening, she grabbed me by one arm and pulled on me very hard. I couldn't resist her forcefulness at all. I was helpless as she flung me, towel-and-all, into the pool again. I slipped on the edge and fell into the water on my side. When I surfaced, Jennifer was laughing her ass off.
I crawled out of the pool with my drenched towel. Jennifer came toward me again with an evil grin on her face. "Okay. Enough," I commanded.
"I don't think so," she giggled, her strong arms constricting me again. She lifted me up like a doll and then set me down. She squeezed me some more. "You're so soft. You're not solid like me," she observed with delight. "Can you feel how strong I am?" she asked happily.
"Yes..." I answered, weakly.
"Feels like I'm a lot stronger than you. I bet I could kick your skinny ass," she laughed to herself. She swung me one way so my legs flopped through the air and then the other, continuing to dominate me.
"Jennifer..." I stammered. I didn't know what to do. I was just pleading with her for this to end. She ignored my displeasure at the situation and instead decided to trip me. After she had me down on the floor, she pinned me down and held me there. Then she watched with a smile as I squirmed uselessly under her. "Can't get out?" she asked, happily. She hopped up off me, took my hand and yanked me to my feet.
"Let me see if I can piggyback you," she insisted. She turned around and held her arms ready for me. I admired the thickness of her legs, her arms, her shoulders, her back and her round butt. When I asked her how tall she was and how much she weighed, she smiled shyly and said she was 5'7" and weighed 155 pounds. I was 5'10" and 142. At 3 inches shorter than me and 13 pounds heavier, she looked like she could have carried two of me on her back. "Get on," she said, enthusiastically. I hopped up on her broad back. She felt like rock under me. She piggybacked me energetically around the entire hotel complex. Taking me 10 flights up the stairwell, through the lobby, into the restaurant, into the game room, out to the parking lot, back upstairs to the room...everywhere. "Pretty strong, huh?" she asked confidently as she hauled me all over the hotel like I was nothing. She carried me for over 40 minutes. It was yet another emasculating experience to add to the others.
-
Continued -
Back up in the room, Jennifer put me down and put her hands on her hips like she was SuperGirl or something. She looked very muscular in her tanktop and shorts. She just grinned at me. "Alright, Dan. I know you're still thinking that maybe somehow I'm not really stronger than you. Or you're thinking, I may be stronger, but in a serious, drag-down fight, you would still come out on top. So I want us to both be certain. I want us to really know."
"There's no way to ever be sure on that," I said with relief.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm never going to try my hardest against you being that you're my sister and I wouldn't want to seriously hurt you."
She had this wild look in her eyes and said, "Well, if I try my hardest against you, I think you will have to try your hardest. So let's go." She stepped toward me and I backed away. Realizing I was cornered, I knew my only chance was to go on the offensive. I lunged at her and wrapped myself around her torso, trying to tackle her. She grinned at me as she fought back. "Oh, trying to take me on, toe-to-toe. Big mistake, Dan. You can't handle a big girl like me. I am too strong for you."
As I tried to throw her down, she set her feet firmly and yanked me off the rug in her arms. Then she threw me down on the bed. It was frightening how easily she handled my weight. She climbed on top of me and pinned me down on the bed. She smiled, triumphantly in my face. "Well, that was easy. You already can't get out. I could just hold you down like this forever, but that's no fun. I'm going to give you a chance to do your worst to me."
She let me go and I scrambled around behind her. She was on all fours and with her butt in the air. I jumped on her back and tried to pull her backwards on top of me. Put her in a scissor. But I couldn't budge her and she just giggled at my effort.
She whirled around and rolled me over between her legs. I saw my chance and went for it. Before she could trap me, I punched her as hard as I could in the face. My fist landed hard on her left cheek and she grunted from the pain. "Ooh! I knew you'd pull that!" she accused. Then she wrapped me up in her arms and crushed my arms to my sides, so I couldn't hit her again. She picked me up off the bed and jumped powerfully forward, taking both our bodies further on to the bed. I felt helpless in her pythonic embrace. It was the first time I felt like I was really battling against something more powerful than me.
But that was just the beginning. After that, Jennifer got really rough with me. She threw me around on the bed like I was a doll, yanking me this way and that and picking me up and slamming me down. A few times she threw me off the bed with so much force that I couldn't stop myself from banging into the wall. And before I could escape, she'd grab me and pull me back on to the bed.
She began to put very strong headlocks on me. She was stronger than I thought and her headlocks hurt a lot. She'd get me underneath her and then apply her strong headlock. Each time she did it, it seemed to hurt more. My neck felt vulnerable against her big arm which seemed to have a dangerous amount of strength. She kept pulling on my neck, harder and harder, jerking me with savage force. "Too rough," I sighed meekly to her. She just giggled at this and continued to pummel me. I began to fight for my life to get out or do something to make this all stop. But I could not.
My efforts were futile, but they exhausted me. She finally left me lying on the bed, too dizzy to get up. I thought at long last she was done with me. Instead, she had only gotten hot so she stripped off her shorts and shirt so she was in her bikini again. My heavy head lay still on the bed as I noticed that her upper thighs looked even bigger now that they were not hidden by her shorts.
She jumped on me again, putting all her muscle into grappling me and tossing me and rolling me. Her dominance was humiliating in its totality. She pulled me into her body so I was between her thighs. She began to squeeze my stomach and lower back between her legs. I couldn't breathe between her strong legs. And she kept doing it, squeezing stronger and stronger. I gasped in pain. Again and again and again. "Jennifer..." I moaned. She giggled some more, observing how woozy I was.
"Come on, Dan," she taunted. "What are you going to do now?" Another leg squeeze and another. I grabbed her solid legs and tried to stop the pressure or at least lessen it slightly. But the squeezes kept coming and the pain...Oh my God...the pain.
"I...I don't feel good..." I groaned. I threw my arms down in desperation and helplessness.
"Are you really going to let your little sister do this to you?" she oozed with pleasure. I thought of the time, the bully at school had defeated me at wrestling in 5th grade. That was nothing compared to the punishment my younger sister was inflicting. I could not fathom how much stronger she was than me. It was just totally embarrassing. The match or should I say, the massacre went on for a good hour and a half. I think it only ended because my sister got bored of kicking my ass. "Had enough?" she laughed. When she let me out I just lay there for what felt like half an hour. "You okay?" she asked with delight. I was too sick to answer. When I felt strong enough to get up, I staggered into the bathroom and vomited profusely. I never knew what it felt like to be beat up. Now I knew. "Sorry about that," Jennifer said. "I just had to make sure you knew what I could do to you. I didn't want you to have any doubts." I nodded weakly. Thanks for the favor, Sis, I thought to myself.
Later we showered and changed into dry clothes in silence. I began to feel a little better, physically. When our parents got back, they chatted with me a little. I was about to settle down and watch TV with my father when Jennifer appeared from the bathroom all dressed up. She wore this funky white top with straps that put on display her strong arms, shoulders and back and she had on a mini-skirt that showed off her muscular legs. On her bare feet were high-heeled sandals that emphasized her powerful calves.
"Where are you going?" our mother asked.
Then Jennifer took my hand tightly and answered, "Dan and I are going out for a little while. He's taking me for some dessert downstairs."
"What?" I asked quietly. Then I felt my hand squeezed in her steel grip so hard that I had to fight back tears.
My Mom smiled at me. "That's really nice of you, Dan." I managed a weak smile back.
"Let's go," Jennifer commanded. Still gripping my hand like a vice, she led me out of the hotel room and down the hall.
"What are you doing?" I asked, annoyed.
"You're taking me to the dance club on the boardwalk."
"What?" I was really pissed. "I am not! I'm-" Suddenly, Jennifer squeezed my soft hand again, crushing it and making me cry. "Owww!"
"You better not take that tone with me, Little Man or I'll give you more pain."
"Jennifer..." She squeezed again, more gently, but still hurting me. "Ow..."
"What did I say?"
"O-okay..."
"You do what I say or..." She squeezed.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!...Oooo!...Jennifer, please..."
"That's right, Bitch. You better say, please."
I glanced at her big, bulging calves in her sandals. Her calf muscles looked brutal. Her legs were very intimidating. But it was her hand that was still hurting me, crushing my hand.
"Jennifer..." I whimpered, searching her eyes for signs of mercy. She grinned, happily and let go.
"Good," she said in an authoritative tone. "Now take me to the club." We began to walk and Jennifer moved slightly ahead of me. As I looked at her broad shoulders and solid-muscled back, a very odd feeling came over me. It was a feeling of total submission. My younger sister was in control.
We went to the club where I sat at the bar and drank while my Jennifer danced up a storm. She had so much energy, she just danced and danced. Watching her in this revealing top and short skirt, I could see all her solid muscles and I realized why she had been able to overpower me so easily. Finally, after 3 hours, she came up to me and said, "Okay, I'm tired. I want to go home now." I nodded. "I'll get us a cab."
"Okay," she said, gratefully. She waited in front of the club while I went out into the street looking for an available taxi. I found one and motioned for Jennifer to come. She climbed into the car and I followed. During the ride back to the hotel, she closed her eyes and drooped her head on my shoulder. She began to dose. Poor thing was finally pooped out. We were now shoulder to shoulder in the backseat and as Jennifer slept, I compared our bodies some more. Her shoulder was bigger than my shoulder and my thin arm looked anorexic next to her big round bicep. I was ashamed. Really ashamed. When we got back, she gave me a strong hug and a peck on the cheek and thanked me for taking her out. I thought that was funny. Did I have a choice? My little sister was stronger than me. Her big muscles could hurt me and I was afraid of her. Our relationship was never the same after that. She never used her strength on me again, but I lived in fear of her for the rest of my life and I know she loved every minute of it.
-
Iceskate
By IndustrialFlesh
new Aug. 2nd, 2000
Jack was sick of all the attention his little sister had been receiving lately. She'd won the regional figure skating competition 2 days ago and the whole family was fawning over her. But Jack was the older brother and he'd just won the social studies fair a week ago. No one made as big a deal about that.
"That's because it wasn't on TV," his little sister snapped happily. Noelle was always saying things like that. Jack thought she was such a little brat. Just because she a figure skater and she was cute did not give her the right to have all the attention and shove it in his face. That was the problem of course. Noelle was not just an athlete. She was adorable. In 9th grade she was 5'2" with a shapely little figure and a face like an angel. Pretty blue eyes and lovely, honey-brown hair that she wore in a pony-tail, always tied up with ribbons. Jack was in 11th and he simply wasn't all that physically appealing. He was a more cerebral person and he resented the superficial values he was encountering.
He was pissed when his parents asked him to pick up Noelle at the rink after practice. He found her still gliding on the ice when he got there. She was wearing a green mini-skirt and nude stockings and a tight black elastic top that showed off her young womanhood nicely. Her wavy pony-tail trickled down the back of her round head. She looked beautiful. Jack despised her.
She stepped off the ice and sat down on the bench beside him. She undid her laces and pulled her stocking feet out of her white skates. Jack watched as she massaged her aching feet. They were nimble little feet, he thought to himself. "So listen. I really gotta go. I'm picking up Rachel in an hour and I still have to get ready. So can we hit it?"
"I just have to make a phone call first."
"Well, who do you have to call."
"Tricia."
"Why?"
"Because I just found out Bobby likes me and I have to tell her about it."
"No, Noelle. See, I really have to get home. Call her and tell her when we get home."
Noelle slid her little stocking feet into her sneakers and tied them up. "I'll just be a second."
"Noelle, I've seen you talk on the phone with Tricia. You never just take a minute. Wait till we get home."
"No. I'm calling her now. From here." With that she got up and padded toward the payphone in the lobby 20 feet away.
"Noelle, I'm telling you, 'no.'"
"I don't care. You're not the boss of me.
Jack chased after her, his car keys jingling in his pocket. "Noelle, don't be a little spoiled brat, okay? I gotta go. There's other things in the world that are important besides you!"
"Ooookaaaaay..." she said in that juvenile teenage way that was reserved for 9th graders.
Jack rushed up close to her as she put change in the payphone. It was time to make a stand, he decided. "I'm warning you, Noelle. You're not gonna make that call. I guarantee it."
"Yeah, right..." she oozed, dialing. Then Jack grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her away from the phone. The receiver swung down and hit the medal plate below the phone.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she shrieked in outrage.
"I'm taking you home!" he roared back, walking and pulling her as he walked.
"I'm not leaving!" she yelled, planting her legs firmly and stopping his forward motion. Jack looked back a little surprised that they had stopped. He tugged on her, but she seemed really well-dug in. He figured her sneakers must have had really excellent traction underneath or something. Deep down, Jack knew that was a ridiculous explanation. Noelle could see the unease on his face. She smelled blood. "You can't move me," she snapped happily.
"I can...I can...move you..."
"Go ahead," the cute 9th grader spat, readying her legs for his effort.
"I can...****ing move you..." he groaned as he pulled on his little sister. But Noelle did not budge. She stood her ground, proudly. Her little angelic face beaming at him. "Noelle, I don't have time to fuck around! Let's go!"
"I thought you said you could move me."
"Look, just cut the crap and let's go."
"No, I don't have to listen to you, you big stupid dickhead. Since I'm the one who's stronger."
Jack's heart skipped a beat, his adrenoline pumping as Noelle's words sliced through him. "Look, Noelle, you're not stronger, okay? You're just..." Jack searched quickly for an explanation, "...shorter...You know, you have a low center of gravity...good balance..."
"Better balance than you anyway..."
"Noelle...fine...whatever...but you're not stronger."
"I am too stronger. I am too. Why shouldn't I be? I'm a figure skater. I train every day. I'm in much better shape than you. You're a flabby boy!" Jack was enraged by this. His face turned red and he wanted to hit her, right in her cheeky face.
"Just because you skate, does not make you stronger than me, Noelle. I'm a guy and I'm older than you and bigger than you."
"So? You're not that big. You're taller but you're pretty skinny to me." This cut to the bone. Jack knew he was thin and he'd always been sensitive about it. At 5'7" and 132 pounds he was not exactly physically imposing. But he would be damned if he was going to let the little brat insult him like this.
"You keep talking like that and I'm going to kick your pretty little ass, okay Noelle?"
"Ooh! Big man!" she mocked. "I bet I could beat you at arm wrestling. I bet I could. I bet your arm is really weak!"
Jack was not going to take this. "Fine. Let's go. You wanna armwrestle? Let's armwrestle, you little fucking brat!" Noelle grinned at him. She loved having pushed his buttons so well. She was proud of herself. Her brother was such a big, stupid, doofball. Jack walked over to one of the plastic booths by the snackery. He plopped down on the bench and put his elbow up on the orange table. Noelle was right behind him. She slid into the booth beside him.
He looked down at her fat thighs, her muscular proportions very well-bared in the nude stockings. Like a typical ice skater, Noelle's thighs were overly plump. Her short skirt hid not an inch of her powerful thigh muscles, which were easily 25 inches thick. Her thighs were a good deal fatter than her brother's. Jack did not begin to fill up his own baggy pant legs. Noelle's meaty legs would have burst the seams of the same pants. She was much more muscular. She had bigger calves too and she loved kicking them around in his face. She slammed into him, letting him feel her rambunctious weight.
"Why are you on this side? Don't you know you have sit across for us to arm-wrestle, you bonehead?"
"Yeah, I know," she sang. "I just thought we should compare muscles first." She rolled up her elastic sleeve and made a muscle. "Look at my muscle, Jack." Jack looked at his sister's arm and gulped. Noelle had a hard bicep muscle that easily put his to shame. Her arm was big for a girl and it bulged like someone who lifted weights. "Feel it. Go ahead. Bet you can't squoosh it." Jack placed his thumb and forefingers around her stout bicep. He squeezed strenuously, but her muscle would not give.
"Now you," she urged joyously. Jack rolled up his sleeve and bared his scrawny arm. He flexed it as hard as he could. Noelle's little hand squooshed it down with ease. She giggled as she did so. "Your arm is soft," she impressed upon him in a quiet tone. Jack had had it with her crap.
"Are we going to arm wrestle or what?"
"Sure!" she beamed, swinging her big legs out of the seat and clomping her sneakers on the floor. She sprung over to the other side of the table. Grabbing the back of the seat and the table, she propped herself up off the ground on her arms and then swung herself into the seat there.
Noelle had been doing dumbbell curls for years and she had strong arms. She didn't sweat her skinny older brother at all. They grabbed hands and Jack immediately felt his sister's vice-like grip on his hand. He was not encouraged by the way she was squooshing his hand and grinning into his face. "You say, go," she bubbled.
"No, you say, go," he growled, angered by the way she seemed to be condescending to him.
"Okay...Go!" Jack buckled down and went for it right away. He went all out, pushing as hard as he could. Noelle, grit her teeth and pushed right back with what felt like about an equal amount of strength. Jack pushed and pushed. He was going to shut the cute little brat up once and for all. This was it. He pushed and pushed and pushed, but he was not budging his sister's strong arm. And then he began to get tired and more tired. His arm was not used to this kind of rigorous exertion, or any exertion for that matter.
Not like his sister, who's weight-trained arms had strength and endurance to last her a long while. In less than a minute, Jack was straining to hold his sister's arm at bay. But Noelle did not seem tired at all. On the contrary, she was smiling, very relaxed. "Getting tired, huh?" she asked. "I'm not!" Then she grit her teeth and began to push harder than she had yet. And Jack's arm began to bend.
"Ahh..." he whined. Noelle forced her brother's weak arm down in short increments. He kept fighting her and then giving ground and then holding her steady for a moment and then losing more ground. Her strong arm simply would not stop pushing. Finally, Noelle pressed his wrist all the way to the table, his arm numb with exhaustion. She gave him a quick, forceful squeeze in her steel grip that made him shout, "Ah! Stop!"
Noelle giggled at her brother's wimpiness. "I told you I'm stronger than you...You know, you're really weak for a boy." Jack had had enough. That was the last straw. Anger took over his actions. "I'll show you weak," he muttered under his breath. And as Noelle stood up from the table, Jack rushed over to her. Before she knew what he was doing, he wound up and punched her square in the stomach.
Noelle's face looked scared by his sudden attack. Jack's fist connected solidly with a loud "THUD!", but he quickly cried out as a terrible pain shot through his fist and up his arm. Noelle persed her lips together, angered by her brother's sneaky ambush, but she was unharmed. Jack's eyes watered up as he grabbed his hurt hand in agony.
Thousands of crunches had hardened Noelle's tummy. She'd done hanging leg raises, sit-ups with a weight on her chest, everything and she'd strengthened her abdominal muscles to rock-hardness. Jack had punched an impenetrable wall of muscle, an invulnerable six-pack that was chiseled proof of the rigorous conditioning regimen, Noelle had been on since she was 6 years old.
"You really think you're so strong with a punch like that? You're pretty wimpy, Jack." Now Jack's ego was stinging as much as his hand. He refused to admit defeat. Instead, he lunged at the cute little figure skater with the strong stomach and tackled her on to the rubber floor of the rink.
-
Another Fantastic Story - Karma plz.
Camping
by Industrial Flesh
A Big Brother finds out what it's like to be lifted by his Stocky younger Sister.
The Greens went on a camping trip every summer. There was Martin, Donna and their two kids, Keith and Britney. They usually went with another family, the Wahlbergs: Jerry, Rhoda and their two kids, Carmen and Michael. Keith was a Freshmen in college at Franklin and Marshall. He was 19 years old. His little sister, Britney was 15 years old and in 9th grade. Carmen was a 17 year old high school junior and her little brother Michael was the same age as Britney.
That August, the Greens and Wahlbergs went to Frost Valley in upstate New York. Keith felt like he was too old to go, being a college man and all, but when he heard Carmen was going, he wanted to go. They drove up in two cars and parked in the dirt lot on the edge of the grounds. It took about an hour and half for everyone to get their gear together. Then when they were ready, they started off. The first leg of the hike was through high grassy plains. It was a several hour walk before the group would get up into the mountains.
Keith tried to be friendly but cool to Carmen. She was just back from dancing camp and she looked really good. Her auburn hair and electric blue eyes gave her an awesome face. She wore sporty clothes and looked to be in pretty good shape. At 5'6" and 115 pounds, Carmen was slim and fit.
Keith was a good-looking guy. He wasn't real big at 5'9" and 140 pounds, but he was athletic. He was a baseball player, a starting second baseman and he knew he had that cool jock thing going on. He was skinny, but he knew how to carry himself in a way that he perceived made himself appear tough. It was his jock mojo and he used it as much as possible whenever he could. He planned on using it plenty during the trip.
Michael was kind of shy and awkward and while the rest of the group jabbered on, he kept to himself. He carried a stick with him, which he seemed very focused on. He was beating it along the ground and through the foliage as he walked.
Having been away at college and stayed up there for much of the summer, Keith hadn't seen Britney in months. Her strawberry blond hair was in pigtails and she looked cute. She had grown and was now big enough to carry her own pack. Keith watched her walking at the head of the group. Britney was short and stocky and while she was not particularly athletic, she wasn't soft either.
After walking for several hours, Keith began to feel pretty tired. His legs were getting a little sore and he was getting too out of breath to talk to Carmen in the cool way that he had been doing earlier, which was okay since Carmen was slowing down too and it was obvious the group would be stopping soon.
As he weakened, he couldn't help noticing that Britney still seemed to be going strong. He watched her short steps closely and as he examined her lower body in her shorts, he observed that Britney's legs were not slim. Clearly, his younger sister was benefitting from those legs which carried her very sturdily. It irked Keith to see his sister marching with such bounce and vigor. But he took solace in the fact that he figured to be the only one who noticed.
It later occurred to Keith while they were all resting that Britney's pack was probably significantly lighter than his and that his parents had arranged it that way. While everyone was sitting in a circle with the packs out of sight, Keith checked out his theory. Sure enough, Britney's pack had less in it and was lighter. This was not the kind of thing Keith wanted to have to point out if the situation arose where anyone noticed his sister could chug along better than he. Therefore he saw only one solution. He re-arranged the contents of their packs so they were equal. Then he thought for a moment and had a better idea. He re-arranged them again so that his sister's pack was significantly heavier. It was at least 80 pounds now whereas his was around 45. Keith chuckled to himself at the thought of his sister toting the heavy satchel.
As they prepared to go, Keith watched Britney pull her pack on. He was disappointed to see her handle it with little difficulty. Still, he grinned, he knew that pack was going to get very heavy in a short while, even if initially it was not a problem for her.
They continued along for a little while and then they came to small brook. "Oops, we're a little off the trail," remarked Martin. "There's supposed to be a bridge here."
"It's probably a little ways east," Donna said. Martin nodded and so did the Wahlbergs going back to their conversation. Then Britney spoke up. "But there is a bridge. That small log," she said, pointing. There was a rotten piece of wood laid across the water that did lead to the other side. "Let's cross right here," she said.
"No, Honey. That might a little dangerous," Donna said. "Well, maybe not dangerous, but it's too narrow. You could fall and get all wet. The real bridge is probably a better bet," Martin said cheerfully.
"I want to cross here. I can do it," Britney said and she hopped up on to the log. Before anyone could stop her, the young girl walked ably across the narrow piece of wood and hopped down on the other side of the stream.
"Wow. Look at Britney's balance," Martin remarked proudly to his wife. "She walked across that like it was nothing. I think she gets that from you."
"Yes, I had very good balance as a little girl," Donna remarked to their friends who smiled and nodded.
This compliment of his sister's physical prowess stung Keith something awful. After all, he was the athlete in the family and what was the big deal about crossing a freaking stream on a log anyway? "So what? I can do that," Keith boasted, climbing up on the log. He tried to walk across with the same ease that his sister had, but he quickly found this stunt to be more of a challenge than he'd expected. The log was very narrow. About half-way across, Keith lost his balance. He wobbled to his left and then right, thrusting his hips out one way and then the other, trying to catch himself. Then his left foot slipped off the wood, causing him to fall on his ass so he was sitting on the log. Both his legs drooped down into the running water below. Keith felt like the biggest horse's ass. "I...I slipped," he said, quietly.
"Are ya okay, Son?" Martin asked.
Keith's butt-bone hurt, but he wasn't going to tell anyone. He had also banged his left foot on the bottom of the stream and his leg had taken the brunt of the impact. It didn't feel good. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said trying to make light of the fact that he had failed to match his sister's balance going over the log. He crawled the rest of the way across and then proceeded to hide the fact that his leg was aching.
"Are you okay, Keith?" Britney asked innocently.
"Yeah, I'm okay you little squirt. Don't worry about it."
She just looked at him a little puzzled. Was that embarrassment she detected in her older brother? The two met the rest over by the bridge and then they continued their hike. Keith began rapping with Carmen again, talking about his baseball and school and stuff...But every now and then he snuck a peak at Britney to see if her pack was beginning to slow her down yet. Each time checked, he was disappointed by what he saw: his little sister, chugging along full steam ahead. She didn't seem the least bit hindered by the increased weight in her pack. Mile after mile, Keith watched and the hardy little girl just kept going. Keith frowned as he thought about it. Meanwhile, his leg was bothering him more and more.
The walk got harder as the trail began going uphill. Everyone began to walk lower to the ground, except for Britney who was built low to the ground naturally so she didn't need to adjust the same everyone else did. Soon they came to a steep slope. "Oh boy, tough leg of the hike coming up," cracked Jerry.
"Oh, yeah..." agreed Martin. Keith looked up at the hill that lay ahead and sighed. Then much to his dismay he watched Britney go right up the hill like it was no problem for her. Keith looked on in disgust as his sister's legs made mince meat out of the forboding slope and she did this with the excessively heavy pack. The engine in her lower body was formidable and Keith did not like it one bit. "Hey, look at Britney go," cheered Martin, impressed by his daughter's stamina. Keith was fuming.
When they got to the top, the adults decided it was time to set up camp. It had been a long day and the sun would be going down soon. Besides, everyone was very hungry. The group all plopped down near some rocks beside a grassy field. Donna asked her son for the large pot. Keith took opened his pack and realized that this was one of the items that was no longer being carried by him. "Uhh...I don't have it, Mom..." he said.
"I know you have it. I'm certain I packed it in your sack," she insisted.
"I've got it, Mom," Britney said, pulling it out of her pack.
"How did you get it? I put that in Keith's pack. I'm sure of it." Britney shrugged.
"Okay. What about the frying pan? Keith, you have that, don't you?"
Again, Keith did not have the possession and Britney produced it from her pack. Donna raised her eyebrows at this. She took the pack from her little daughter and looked in it. "What's going on? Why does Britney have all the heavy items?" Donna and Martin were soon staring at their son.
"Keith, did you put those things in Britney's pack?" Keith got all shifty-eyed and evasive.
"Huh?...What do you mean?"
"Son, that wasn't very nice...making your sister carry all the heavy items. You know, she's smaller than you. You shouldn't have given her the heavier load," Martin lectured.
"That's okay, Dad. I didn't mind," Britney said cheerfully.
"Maybe Keith was too weak to carry it so he gave it to his mighty sister," she said doing a playful double-bicep pose.
"Yeah, don't make me laugh, Little Girl."
"Well, she's the one who carried it all," Donna pointed out to her son and coming from his mother, the words stung. Britney folded her arms proudly and grinned at her big brother.
"...I could have carried it, I was just playing a joke."
"But it didn't work since I was too strong," Britney boasted.
"Hey, don't make me take you down a peg, okay? Cause you won't like it..."
"Ooh...Big words..."
"Alright, you're dead..." said Keith storming over to his sister with a nasty grin on his face.
Britney giggled as she saw how successfully she had teased her older brother. She backed away, clumsily, still giggling, but Keith wrapped an arm around his sister's neck and pulled her into a side-headlock. He stuck one leg out in front of her, planning to give her the old trip. He pulled her by the head towards his waiting leg. To his surprise, his sister resisted very forcefully, bracing her torso as he pulled. He pulled down on her head, harder and she continued to laugh as she thwarted him, pushing up from her midsection against his arm. He leaned most of his weight on the girl and jerked on her neck as hard as he could. Still, her body did not give and Keith was getting a little peeved at his inability to man-handle his sister.
In a desperate attempt to break her, Keith swung his legs around her waist, letting her feel the full burden of his weight. But instead the older boy found himself, clutching to a young girl who felt solid and strong and very able to support the full weight of his body. Britney was only 5'1" but she weighed 135 pounds and so she was not exactly overwhelmed by her brother's 140. Keith tugged at the stocky girl who just stood there, remaining steady. He could feel how solid her body was and it disturbed him. He knew Britney was firm, but he never guessed she could be so strong.
The pretty girl with the pigtails seemed to hold him so easily. It was embarrassing. He looked at her uneasily. She smiled and said, "You silly little boy," and wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight. It was a very strong hug, a hug that told him he wasn't going anywhere. He put his hands up on her shoulders to test his ability to push himself away, but that was when he learned just how strongly she was holding him and it was very emasculating.
"Okay, Britney, put me down..." he said panicking. He didn't want anyone to see this.
"Don't worry, I got ya..." Britney said confidently as she walked with him, carrying him like a little monkey.
She walked with her big brother in a circle around the camp and it didn't seem to make her particuarly tired. Then she took his leg which was around her back and swung it to her front so it was with his other leg. Dropping her right arm down behind his back she lowered Keith's torso so she was supporting it with the one arm. Then with her other arm she grabbed both his legs behind his knees and pulled them up high so his lower legs dangled over her forearm. She hoisted his gangly frame up higher on her arms and now held him in a cat's cradle.
"Hold on to my back, Keithy Boy..." she instructed grinning happily.
"Britney...no..." he hissed. "Put me down..." But he did as he was told, feeling the strong hardness in her back.
"What's the matter, Little Boy?" she cued, delighted at the way she could handle her brother's skinny body.
And he was skinny. She had become aware of how skinny he was and how easy he was to lift and hold. Especially since she had been squatting in the gym for the past year and her body had gotten very strong. She'd gotten really into lifting weights and was proud of her strength. Now as she felt the softness of her brother's body, she wasn't scared of him at all. She felt tougher than Keith and she liked the way it felt. Her big brother was soft and skinny. There wasn't anything big about him.
"Britney, you can't do this. I'm bigger than you..."
"Sure doesn't seem like it," she cracked as she gallavanted merrily through the grass, carrying her older brother like a helpless baby.
"Britney..." Keith said, the anxiety rising in his voice, but it was too late. The adults and everyone else had taken notice of the spectacle of the hardy young girl hauling her big brother around the grounds like a damsel in distress.
"Wow...look how strong Britney is!" exclaimed Martin. "Look how she can carry Keith! Looks like she's really got you there, Son." Keith was mortified. His face turned beet red and he began to squirm in her tight grasp. Britney just pulled his legs and torso together tighter, showing her brother who was boss.
"Britney, put me down..." he hissed angrily.
"Ah, yes sir..." she joked and then Britney did a little courtsey with her brother and placed him on the ground ever so gently.
Keith stormed off mumbling about getting fire wood for the camp. Britney grinned slyly at him. She knew she'd pysched her brother out and she was loving it. That night Keith couldn't sleep he was so disturbed by the events of the day. He knew he couldn't handle what had happened. He couldn't handle the way his sister had lifted him. He knew Britney was a strong girl and it made him want to kill himself. What he didn't know was that things would only get worse tomorrow.
-
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..."
"Nah..."
"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.
-
FANTASTIC!!!!!!! I love "camping"..... there is a third part of it??
That's all for "camping", or at least all I have found.
-
Sorry if the formatting is a bit off, I was probably scrounging this one from some hacked up webpage off archive.org.
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.
"...to firm up..." she explained, almost apologetically.
"No, no...it looks good."
She smiled shyly. "You really think so?"
"Yeah...Sure..."
"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?"
"No...Paul..."
"Alright fine. Let's see. What do you wanna do? You been lifting with your legs, so you wanna leg wrestle?"
"Nah..."
"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.
"Okay...Ready?...Go."
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."
"Well...you 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.
-
“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.
-
...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?"
"Well...um...in 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.
-
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?
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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?
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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!
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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.
“No.”
“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?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“Let me go.”
“No, say it.”
“I want you to let me go.”
“Say please.”
“Please.”
“Please let me go.”
“Please let me go.”
“Say my name.”
“Mariana.”
“Again.”
“Mariana.”
“Say that Mariana is stronger.”
“Mariana is stronger.”
“Do you give?”
“Yes.”
“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.”
“But...Mariana...it’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.”
“But...”
“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.
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