Despicable Men

[jhunter]

Nothing wrong with a slow burn, take your time and tell a story at your pace. Good work.

[law94]

finally the reunion between sarah and her father. I hope Sarah is a loving and overprotective daughter for her little father

[jumpy999]

Woo-hoo! Glad you're back. Can't wait to see how Sarah and her father's relationship changes now that she's a goddess 

[ame3cv62]

Any updates coming up.

[SilkWords]

Please continue!

[jhunter]

Looking forward to the update, good work so far.

[giantgirl7foot2]

Sarah then explained in great detail what had happened over the course of the last three years. She told me why she had started lifting and why she wanted to become stronger. She told me how and how much she’d been training. How that resulted not only in her growing huge muscles, but also becoming much, much taller.  How she enjoyed towering over people and how that made her feel strong. How she loved feeling and being strong. How she wanted to become even bigger and even stronger. How she never wanted to fear anyone, ever again. How she wanted to be a goddess.

“Stand up, daddy!” she firmly commanded with the voice of a young girl.

I obeyed. My twelve-year-old daughter stood up as well. Again, I had to look up, past her developing breasts on top of huge slabs of pectoral muscle packed too tightly in her stretched-out shirt. As her dad, I tried not to stare as my eyes travelled upwards, which was terrifyingly hard, almost as hard as the bulging muscles that covered her young body. At last, my eyes met hers, which shined with delight.

In the meantime, Sarah had removed the chains from her wrists. She was standing between the two boys, towering over them as the tops of their heads barely reached halfway her muscular belly. Putting her hands on her hips, the young girl spread out her lats and looked down.

“Do I already look like a goddess, daddy?”

She shook her quad and flexed it. If seeing those giant slabs of muscle dance around was hypnotising, seeing them instantly seeing them instantly harden up was almost too much. I was completely speechless.

“Daddy?”

She went into a double bicep flex. Huge mountains of muscle erupted from her arms. Both of my hands together could probably barely cover the peak, and I’d need all of Marc and Mark’s hands to even think about getting all the way around her arm. My barely teenage daughter had transformed into the most muscular and downright most gigantic person I’d ever seen. Needless to say, I remained speechless for another few seconds.

“Am I a goddess, daddy?” she asked more firmly this time.

There was a hint of annoyance in her voice, as if she already expected people to answer her without delay. She reached down with both of her hands and wrapped her girly hands around Marc’s and Mark’s throat. Her thumb and middle finger almost touched. Slowly, surely and seemingly effortlessly, she lifted them clean off the ground. Almost instantly, their little hands shot up to her forearms in an attempt to ease the pressure on their necks. Sarah moved her arms up until they were outstretched completely and parallel to the floor, multiple feet below them. Mark and Marc squirmed, their little legs faintly kicking around. They were completely immobilized in the air, each by the formidable strength of a single my twelve-year-old daughter’s arms. Hints of fear mixed with pain in their eyes indicated that she was putting more pressure on their throats than they could handle for a long time. If she wanted, she could knock them out cold like this. During all this, her eyes were fixated on the same thing—me. She was still waiting for a response. It was clear that she wasn’t going to release the two boys until I had responded. It was a rhetorical question, even if she didn’t know what this word meant.

“Yes, d... darling, you... you’re a G... go... Goddess,” was all I could stammer before fainting for the third time, right in time to spare Marc and Mark from the same fate. They weren’t spared from a three-foot drop as Sarah just opened her hands without warning and both crumpled to the ground.

The young, blonde amazon looked down. An adult man and two tiny boys were scatted on the floor around her. One of them, she didn’t even have to touch. She stepped over them, gave both of her terrified grandparents a quick peck on the top of their heads and started walking towards her room. “Take care of them, will you?” she instructed rather than asked them, “this goddess is hitting the weights.”


Almost ready to cycle back to the beginning. No worries, as long as I'm enjoying this story, there will be more to come after that. Sarah is still young and has even more potential.

I don't like asking, but some karma would be nice. Not sure how this happened, but I'm in the negative for some reason.

[jhunter]

Hang in there, love your work.

[jumpy999]

So glad to see more of this story and excited for Sarah to keep growing and dominating everyone around her. Karma given!

[giantgirl7foot2]

Anonymous fan render of one of my favourite scenes of the story. I've been promised there's more to come for subsequent chapters—I'll get writing!

[ame3cv62]

I not sure how to give karma, but if its free then karma +++++++, if i have to pay let me know how to do that

[giantgirl7foot2]

I not sure how to give karma, but if its free then karma +++++++, if i have to pay let me know how to do that

You can just press the little "Applaud+" text in the left sidebar, beneath my (absent) avatar. I'm just doing this for fun, definitely not for money.

[seldom]

That is a wonderful render for a great story!

[ame3cv62]

Karma given,looking forward to more of this great story

[giantgirl7foot2]

“Daddy, I’m ready!”

My life used to be normal. Until my eight-year-old daughter had decided that she’d never wanted to fear a man, ever again. Until that made her start to lift weights, lots and lots of weights. Until she started getting addicted to the result of lifting weights, growing more muscular and taller than she could have ever imagined. Until, at twelve years old, my once little girl was now a six-foot-ten-inches behemoth of rock-hard muscle. Until, at twelve years old, my once little girl had transformed herself into what I can only admit to being a veritable Goddess.

Only a few things didn’t change about Sarah over the course of four years. Her hair was still bright blonde and her eyes still deep blue. She also still despised men. Ever since that faithful night, when she had made me—her father—admit out loud that she was a Goddess, as she silently threatened to suffocate two of her classmates—men—as they hung suspended three feet above the ground, their necks almost completely encircled by her big yet girly hands. Ever since that night, my own daughter had started to treat me less and less like a father, and even less and less like a man.

It had only been two weeks, but my life had already drastically changed. No longer was I in charge of our little household of two. I was there to provide money, which was needed to buy food—lots of food—and weights, lots of weights. Sarah didn’t ask for food or weights. It started with simple commands.

“Daddy, I need more food.”

“Daddy, I need more weights.”

After only a few days, food had become something that she just expected to be there. One evening, there hadn’t been enough food. Without saying a single word, Sarah had just taken my nearly plate and started eating it. Both of us knew that I wasn’t going to say anything to my hulking mass of a twelve-year-old daughter. Every day, I felt like I was becoming less of a father, and more of a housemaid. Cooking, cleaning, cleaning up after her and washing her clothes, not more than a glance in my direction and a quick flex of one of the gargantuan muscles on her larger than life body was sufficient to get me started on my next chore.

Right now, it was time. Each night, after her workout—first with her boys for warmup and then with real weights—she’d call me to her room. Often, she’d still be toying with Marc and Mark, lifting them in new and creative ways or comparing parts of her massive body to their tiny ones. Right now, each of them was hugging one of her thighs, trying to fit their arms around it. She was amusingly looking down at their pathetic efforts, like a kid looking at an insect that is trying to move a chunk of food that’s too big. As soon as she saw me entering the room, she shook them loose by flexing and unflexing her thighs in rapid succession a few times. She didn’t need to do so multiple times; the power of a single flex was enough to roughly yank them loose. She just liked seeing her muscles bulges, and she loved seeing my reaction to it. When Marc and Mark had left—without Sarah having to say a word—she sat down and extended her legs so that I could commence my final chore of the day.

Massaging her muscles. It had happened the first time after Marc, or Mark, had failed to resist the urge to touch her delt as she was curling him with her left arm. Her initial anger quickly subsided and, instead of throwing him into a wall, she let him proceed. She loved the feeling of his tiny hands trying to make a dent in her large muscles. He wasn’t just feeling her muscles, he was worshipping them. He was worshipping her. Sarah was absolutely ecstatic. There was only one problem.

Marc, or Mark, was enjoying it too much. The boys were meant to serve as her weights, or toys, even, but they weren’t supposed to enjoy it too much—just enough to have them voluntarily running back to her, despite the inevitable injuries that her workouts and playing sometime cause. Now, his face was pure bliss as his small hands were seemingly allowed to roam this Goddess’s gigantic, rock hard muscles. His was definitely not pure bliss anymore after Sarah had tossed him against a wall, after all. She’d tossed Mark, or Marc, too, because she was annoyed and because she kind of enjoyed seeing their small bodies crumple to the floor as a result of her immense strength. There was only one thing left to do, to find a man to worship her who would not enjoy it.

That person, you could and probably have guessed, is me. Every night, after her workout, I’m massaging the gargantuan, sweaty, pumped up muscles of my own daughter. “Apparently, it’s good for muscles to be massaged, daddy!” she excitedly mentioned the first time. Both of us knew I wasn’t strong enough to truly massage her muscles. Both of us knew that Sarah just wanted to be worshipped, that she enjoyed a pair of small hands trying to make a dent in her rock had muscles. That she enjoyed the fact that I was definitely not enjoying this.

This particular evening, it was her legs she wanted massaged—worshipped. Legs that were each far larger than my chest. Legs of which even the smallest muscles I couldn’t move, on which my hands were nothing but tiny specks as I tried my best to make even the slightest dent. These legs weren’t even responsible for my biggest shock, though.

The biggest shock came from looking into the deep blue eyes of the owner of these legs. What I saw in those eyes... was pity. Seeing my twelve-year-old daughter pity her father, well, that changed me. I could never have blamed her. She was, after all, as close to a goddess as I could have imagined anyone to be—and I was just a puny, weak man. 

That night, I was no longer just her father. That night, I became her servant. Half an hour of worshipping later, I was released. Sarah hadn’t said a word. She’d just stood up, brushing her wisp of a father aside in the process as if I was mosquito. As she loomed above me, I quickly and instinctively scrambled to my knees. Neither of us were prepared for my next move, let alone my next words, but I could tell that Sarah had enjoyed it immensely by the shudder that went through her body. My next move was kneeling down in front of her.

“Thank you, Goddess.”


Phew, now that was a chapter!

Not sure how I'll continue from here. Maybe I'll flash forward a bit, maybe I won't. The only thing that's certain is that Sarah is not done growing and not done dominating.