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Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction => Muscular Women Fiction => Topic started by: lowerbase on August 18, 2017, 10:45:19 pm

Title: Author: [lowerbase] The Unfair Game | #HG #FMG #Mature
Post by: lowerbase on August 18, 2017, 10:45:19 pm

The Unfair Game #HG #FMG #Mature
by lowerbase


...



Thanks to amnoartist for letting me explore his original concept of 'age == muscles' ("Muscle Comes with Age"), and circescup for his clever advices and additions.

Let's embark on another oppressive yet alluring adventure where women rule over everything. Older women this time.


...


Ten years ago a comet scorched the Earth creating a rain of crimson fireworks that lasted three days and three nights until the planet wholly changed.

The comet was called the Firebird.

In its trail, the balance of all planet's life shifted towards the female's side.

This event was known as "The Leap".

From the smallest insect to humans, females expanded in size and strength as they aged. The Perpetual Puberty created female Elephants greater than Mammoths, Whales larger than battleships, and Women stronger than Bears used to be.

In all life forms, Male's attraction deviated towards size and fitness, strangely making females more appealing as they aged and grew in strength and beauty.


...


1 - In the Age of Aquarius



Another dull day for Richard, after the most forgettable week of his life. The 24th floor was nearly silent as its employees waited until five to go home.

Richard was me. Richard Petsman.

The silence broke as the upper-level execs started to leave early for their happy hour, and to prey on horny college students. They didn't need to respect the clock. I felt my desk to shake with the high heels of the senior execs crossing the corridors, their eyes invading my cubicle's privacy from their towering height.

In my first days on that desk, I used to see them waiting there for the slower heavy-duty elevator to arrive. I would only see their unobstructed faces to hover over the six feet tall cubicle walls, and their diamond shaped calves below the wall division.  In that same spot, I witnessed each year their wide traps arising more visible over the partitions. Traps that could tell us how tense they were, and give us a hint of their devastating strength.

For some reason, female execs and most politicians had those intimidating muscles highly developed.

Another couple of years those same walls came up to their shoulders at the most, while those muscles around their necks surged with more mass. Their fluttery dresses left delts always exposed, as most of their shoulders and upper muscles. Soon it will be their breasts unbound by bras that would be visible above those walls. Just some years more and their breasts will grow even larger and perkier with age. They competed among themselves for our attention. Any male attention.

I could only catch glimpses of their faces as they stood before the elevators. Their exotic beauty  always looking healthier than before as every imperfection from youth vanished. Their silver hair was so radiant that seemed to glow. 

There will be a full moon tonight. It will rev their raving hormones. These ladies will be dangerously libidinous and will take multiple partners, fucking for hours until the sun shines again.

Older women were well beyond my league. They wouldn't be interested in being with a man from such a lower social status like me, even before the Leap. The dead-end job didn't help either. No woman would have a dead-end job nowadays. Not only this, I was 30 years old that Friday, which made me a second-class citizen to these big cats, who always craved younger blood.

I used to be quite successful with girls before the big Leap. I could score a seven by just cheating a little. A little white lie here and there. It was all game until women had it all. The Leap came. The game then was all theirs now. They made the rules, the calls, the penalties and the scores.

I had two hours before my leave, so after they've gone, I did some more of the work that Donna, I mean, Ms.Shields assigned me to do in my spare time: to shred old company photos from social happenings that used to populate the office's walls.

Those photo archives were eleven years old, a year before the Leap.

It was like looking into a lost civilization, or a parallel universe. A time when men made the majority of the execs, while women looked small, frail, vulnerable near them. I kept looking at those thin female limbs from these pictures, their wrinkles, skin folds, aging like us men do. An elderly lady that could hurt herself by just falling from her feet. So odd.

To think that women used to age like us men… such a distant past that no one remembers how yesterday's women used to be. In the old days, we could figure out a mature lady's age by her wrinkles, today, we know a woman's age by her vascularity. And the size of their breasts, the girth of their arms… inches added every year, just as their adamant bones gained more inches until the day they die.

At an advanced age, their swollen muscles would grow overwhelming fast, and so fast that their absurd strength and bulk would then become the principal cause of a woman's passing. Even a modern woman's heart and arteries have limits. Their unbeatable health could beat cancer, diseases, spinal injuries, but too much strength, size, and too much sex have its price. A rocket that goes only up and up until it explodes. The ultimate orgasm was the end of the journey for most women.

Does it refrain the ladies from building muscles faster? Of course not. The opposite. It upends not just relationships, but also notions of death itself. Death is no longer the unremarkable end of a long decay. It is the bang of a firework, the greatest moment of her life, the point at which life had nothing left to give her. While a man can rightfully fear death, for women, it is not something to be feared, but rather appreciate. To know that there is nothing to be feared at the end of her days, but rather, savored.

I had fears of my receding hair.

They had no fears at all. These older ladies now could bulldoze a house. Punch thru the concrete. My Mom did it once just to show me, and she wasn't that old. She is still in her 50s. Not nearly the size of my older aunties. Robbing their purse was a bet against certain death. I can't feel any safer than having them by my side.

Older ladies didn't need help anymore to cross the street. The drivers were the ones who that had to watch out for their own lives when a granny crosses the street.

People can adapt fast, I recollected. The Leap happened when I was twenty years old. Three days before I left home.

It was like that scene from Alien. When the comet first appeared on our skies were eating a nice civilized dinner at home --which never happens, by the way-- and suddenly my mother and aunts started growing out of the clothes on the First Surge of the Leap.  It was freaking scary for us all as they were mutating before my eyes. We heard screams of the growing women around the apartment buildings, down to the streets, and to the city, and the world. Some men still call it the Judgment Day. A lot of women prefer to call it Independence Day.

On the first Surge, my neighbor had to watch his disabled grandma's legs growing out of her wheelchair and walking again. Breasts swelled out of her blouse, shoulders, and arms ripping off the sleeves with new masses of muscles and longer bones burst thru their clothes. Their skin revitalized, their minds astute again as a twenty-years-old. Most guys who witnessed an old lady in the First Surge had several involuntary bodily and inappropriate responses, as the Leap was changing them as well. Confusing times.

The First Surge made any woman above thirty taller than the average men, and already stronger. But it wasn't done. The Firebird had just started.

On the second day, on TV we watched the scenes to unfold in the parts of the planet exposed to the Firebird, the Knightley-Phoenix Comet. We knew for some hours earlier that women nearby would grow larger with another spurt, and a larger one. We watched live English older ladies growing taller in the streets for some hours as the Firebird started to appear on the horizon with its dazzlingly fiery effects. The Second Surge was the strongest one as the comet was its nearest point from Earth's surface, and then no women over twenty-five would look up at a man again to open a jar. On the third day and Third Surge, well, women in their 50s would be well over six feet tall and musclebound.   

And inevitably, what happened next would be the most awkward month in history. Neither men or women knew how to react, or what to say. Women above their 20s didn't know if they covered their new mutated bodies in shame or showed them off as nature was calling them to do. In every home, the sexual tension was so dense that you could cut it with a knife.

It wasn't rare to find people suddenly fucking in the middle of the street. Or to find men fingering the new taller women in public as both were horny as hell. The horniest were the women beyond their forties and getting nuclear if beyond their sixties. Data showed that the Leap increased people's sex life tenfold on average.
 
It would be all fine for men to see women taking charge... if they didn't stop growing.

Since then, year by year they kept adding inches, pounds, and it would never stop. My Aunties' shoulders tower over a foot above my eyes. If my 95 years old grandma were alive, her shoulders would be, at the very least, three feet above mine and more than ten times my weight. The few and most legendary ladies are the ones who reached that age/size.   

Inside the old boxes around me, I found some old pre-Leap Cosmo magazines with tricks to 'engage him,' 'tips to give Mr.Right the right signals,' and of course, 'sex tips he will love.' The game changed so much that it was amusing to read. I showed to a co-worker, and we both laughed about the 'diet and nutrition tips.'

"Look at that," he read, "'If you want to lose weight, you shouldn't eat more than 36g of pasta per portion'. Thirty-six GRAMS! That's funny."

"Women wanting to lose weight. So bizarre. Look at this one," I showed him one old picture of an obese woman executive assistant, "I can't believe some Ms.Lindberg used to seem like this, she's now the hottest thing in the building. She can't pack any more muscle in her body. Her pecs are like blimps."

"My older sister used to be very fat before the Leap. Now she has more muscles than women a decade older than her. She eats 36 grams in a mouthful."

"Yeah, the fatty ones had a huge head start."
   
I kept feeding the shredder with the pictures of yesteryears. On one picture showed a decrepit lady in a dress handshaking a man. She was shorter than a ten years old kid. Her bones shrunken, her hair was too thin, her eyes sunken, her face full of small folds, a neck crumpled with loose skin and sagginess in her thin arms. Now she must be the complete opposite. I could only imagine how big she must be by now. Ladies grow faster and much taller after menopause, hotter by the day, with an appetite for sex that matched their constant need for food and protein, but at her age, she must look and act like a goddess.

There were many pictures of this small old lady. A tag behind the photo identified her as 'Ms.Kleinhardt.' I decided to keep one picture to google her later.

"Why don't you just dump these old pictures in a bin in the street?" He asked. "Ms.Shields is already gone,"

I nodded no. I couldn't explain. Donna, I mean, Ms.Shields would always find out a lie from me. Every time in my monthly review, she would cross her fantastic muscular legs in shiny nylons before him, and ask hard questions on top of that. Just a flex, I would lose track of thought, couldn't put two and two together. When it does, my mouth behaved like a traitor speaking everything she wanted me to tell. Every intimidating woman seemed to have a power that only mothers used to have over their toddlers.

That's maybe also why the most developed women treated most men like boys, rewarding and punishing likewise.

Donna was age and my Boss already. Before the Leap, she used to be an intern like me and had a screeching voice. The bigger chest did wonders to her voice. Making it huskier, giving her authority. She's going on a strict diet and gym schedule to brew larger muscles faster, making her more tense and uptight than usual. She was at that age that brawniness and muscles get possession of a woman's body. Ms.Shields slowly grew to my height until around her 26th anniversary, then her height shot up past mine, towering over me in her heels, her muscles became indeed her most striking feature. Each time I see her, her increasing definition highlighted a new muscle larger. A new muscle separation here and there. She had to show off these new gifts every monthly review. Her voice kept growing a little bit deeper at each meeting, just as her size and definition increased, making me shudder. I was a such a pussy near her.     

If I were able to articulate my thoughts, Ms.Shields would scratch her nose and make her bicep to bunch into a solid ball that would overflow my palm. Or would take off her glasses and 'correct her posture,' her larger chest and muscular frame made her breasts to stand proud like the bow of a ship. Or she'd adjust her nylons, or fix her hair, with any casual movement her muscles would constrict and bulge under her flexible yet formal working attire. That would be enough to scramble my mind and forget any line of thought. Never had a raise since she came to power. Her muscles on constant display made me wonder if she had any issues about being the youngest woman in the office, throwing her insecurities on thirsty employees like me. We, her subordinates, treated her as our queen, and she quite loved it. She was happier working there than most women. We knew her Favorite by whom she asks to serve coffee. Donna never asked to me. Maybe never will. She liked fresh guys. I never got to be the flavor of the month.

Still, I was so lonely that I counted the days for the performance review with Donna, just to be one to one with a woman again. Just to see her beautiful muscles working, bulging elegantly beneath her clothes, to see if she had grown some more, even if I only to catch a closer glimpse of her swollen biceps threatening her skin-tight sleeves. I'd worship her feet if she let me. She, of course, knew it. Never said anything about it, but an eye-roll here and there, pretending to be impatient.

Besides, there was a work policy prohibiting relationships within the company. I would need to leave my job before asking her for a date. If I knew she would say yes, I would drop it instantly. I was that desperate. I could tell that Donna, Ms.Shields, saw the mess I was. Time and age only made things worse for me, while for her, aging was making more men to fall into her lap.

For the women it was great... but what about us men?

...

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Jeremy Lightning on August 19, 2017, 08:05:08 am

I really like this story, all but the height growth, but I am okay with it, because it means that the oldest of ladies are now the biggest, strongest, sexiest beings on Earth, when I would venture to guess before the Leap, that was the farthest thing from the case, as a lover of older muscle, this story has my attention for sure! Hope to see more soon! k+!

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: lowerbase on August 19, 2017, 09:17:52 am

yep, you're right, JL. I've always felt that was unfair that most men, whatever their age, are so into twenty-something younger girls. This story is a ladies revenge on that.

sorry that it doesn't fully meet your tastes, I'd guess that your preference bracket in this story will be ladies between 25-40 yo. here's a reference guide:

1-20 no change

20-25 mostly no change, women just start to get fit, and get to be stronger than the average joe by 22 (or to squat 1.5x her bodyweight). food intake elevates to 2000 calories daily

25-30 women start to bulk up, their average height the same as men. FFMI average of 22 (the same average among natural male athletes) able to squat 1.75x her body weight and starts to brag about it. 4000 cal daily meals. Female muscle response and reflex get faster in this age, with the average woman able to run faster than the average male athlete (10~15 mph sprint).

30-40 their height develops to around 5'9 feet to 6'3, and faster healing, with a mass between 170 to 220lbs, FFMI 25 (same as steroid-using male athlete) at this age women can deadlift 2.75x her body weight, 3x squats, stronger than 99.8% of the male lifters as female muscle is denser. Female sprint speed reaches 20 mph. consume 7000 cal daily

40-50 FFMI 32 (same as Arnold). average between 6'3 and 6'10. 220 to 350lbs average, bones become denser, strength borderlines superhuman. inhumane 4x bodyweight benchs, 5x deadlifts, 6x squats. Sprint speed 30mph (above Bolt's) metabolism consume 10k calories daily

50-60 Beautification starts. FFMI 35 (current mr olympia). 6'11 to 7'2. 350 to 450lbs. Stronger immunology and genetic regeneration. Strength level inflation. Women here are able to curl 5x bodyweight barbells, perform 10x bodyweight squats (she's able to squat cars). 40 mph sprint speed (max human theoretical human speed until then) Consume up to 14k calories daily, ultimate orgasm risk: low

60-70 7'2 to 7'10. FFMI 37 (dragon ball z) 450lbs to 600lbs Beautification accelerates. Healing becomes nearly instantaneous regeneration, weights are measured in tonnage. Advanced women can squat up to eight tons, deadlift 6 tons. 60 mph sprint speed. Eats the same as two families (comparing to the pre-leap years) ultimate orgasm risk: elevated

70-80 7'10 to 8'12. FFMI 40 (maximum body limit) 600lbs to 900lbs, fastest growth rate. They are able to squat a truck (30,000lbs). Food intake: five families. 90 mph sprint speed. ultimate orgasm risk: very high

80-90 9 feet tall. goddess status. ultimate orgasm imminent

90-?


 

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: hehehehe123123 on August 19, 2017, 12:25:18 pm

Thank you so much for sharing your stories with us! i love evrything u have wrote from the days were u were crazyf never got a chance to thank you for all thoose stories back then so thanks again!

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: nickolai on August 19, 2017, 04:31:45 pm

Love the premise of this story and where it may take us.  Of course I had not doubt I would really enjoy a collaboration btw Lowerbase and CircesCup.  How could it not be awesome!

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: nickolai on August 19, 2017, 10:09:48 pm

Quote from: lowerbase on August 19, 2017, 09:17:52 am

yep, you're right, JL. I've always felt that was unfair that most men, whatever their age, are so into twenty-something younger girls. This story is a ladies revenge on that.

sorry that it doesn't fully meet your tastes, I'd guess that your preference bracket in this story will be ladies between 25-40 yo. here's a reference guide:

1-20 no change

20-25 mostly no change, women just start to get fit, and get to be stronger than the average joe,

25-30 women start to bulk up, their average height the same as men. FFMI average of 22 (the same average among natural male athletes)

30-40 their height develops to around 5'9 feet to 6'3, with a mass between 170 to 220lbs, FFMI 25 (same as steroid-using male athlete)

40-50 FFMI 32 (same as Arnold). average between 6'3 and 6'10. strength borderlines superhuman

50-60 Beautification starts. FFMI 35 (current mr olympia). 6'11 to 7'2. 350 to 450lbs

60-70 7'2 to 7'10. FFMI 37 (dragon ball z) 450lbs to 600lbs Beautification accelerates

70-80 7'10 to 8'12. FFMI 40 (maximum body limit) 600lbs to 900lbs, fastest growth rate

80-90 9 feet tall. goddess status

90-?

You only gave us an indication of strength levels in the 40-50 age bracket.  What are the strength levels in the other brackets?  And what about other physical attributes like speed and levels of invulnerability.

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: ImperatrixRattus on August 20, 2017, 06:57:05 pm

Neat!  Would not mind getting older in this world one bit. ^_^

As the song says: older women, are beautiful lover.  Especially when they can bench an elephant.  :woot:

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Jaguar on August 24, 2017, 09:36:09 pm

A really good start.  I hope you write more on this.  Maybe a "day in the life".  Maybe celebrating his little sister's birthday.

Anyway, great start.

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: lowerbase on August 24, 2017, 11:01:05 pm

I updated the guideline above with more info, it helps me as well to keep it more grounded.

btw, I usually don't do this, to render scenes for my own stories, but this time maybe it is better to visualize how a 65-year-old lady looks like in this place (unrelated character):

(https://i.imgur.com/WnjKhgK.jpg)

bigger image: https://i.imgur.com/BnHNCD3.jpg

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: lowerbase on August 24, 2017, 11:06:35 pm

2: A Single Man




For the entire last year, I had only one date with a lady. And it ended so badly that scarred me. I used to have had seven profiles on each popular dating app, messaging at least twenty dames each night. One day, I was able to make one of them laugh with a pun. Jackpot. My heart was racing that she was replying back. Helen was her name. A 55 years old monster of a woman. I bet she used to be hideously obese in the pre-Leap years.

Like all older ladies in these apps, they lied in their profile. In her photos, she looked to be much taller than six feet and much heavier than 300lbs. Many women felt that posting their real stats would intimidate men, but sometimes it was just an old profile, a year or two in their continuous growth can make a lot of difference. Helen would have more troubles to bypass my apartment's front door than my fridge. Her deltoids alone was almost the size of her head. She was a dream come true. After three weeks chatting and careful insistence from me, she gave me her phone.

I couldn't quite believe my luck. I couldn't let this chance of a lifetime to bypass me. Age was getting me, my chances to score with a lady were diminishing every day.

I took every step possible to avoid disasters. I cleaned my entire apartment, took reservations in the most expensive restaurant in town, cut my hair, bought new clothes. And of course, went deep into her Face book to find out about her life.
   
Helen had three kids, divorced thrice, the first one just before the Leap, the other two after the leap. She was rebounding from the third failed marriage. She had custody of all of her children, all male teenagers, and received the pension from all three husbands after taking half of their life savings. She described herself and also her job as 'Mom.' I dug deeper into her life, her three sons seemed to be shy and never leave home. Her ex-husbands appeared to be broken financially and had lonely lives in tiny apartments. She still posted dismissing messages on their feed, scorching them like a harsh mother. Some comments were pretty cruel to their appearance and fitness as these are what a middle age man is supposed to be, and none of them answered back to her vicious provocations, comparing her constant evolution with their decline. Helen hadn't a single drop of sympathy for them, especially for her first husband, who was her age, living in a tiny apartment while her house had five bedrooms, two for herself, as most upper-middle class ladies have, one bed for husbands, another bed for lovers.

I should run. The number of red flags was staggering, everywhere, and yet I couldn't stop stupid monkey brain from glancing at Helen's arms flexing around her sons possessively, burying them in her massive chest. I wanted that. I wanted to be under her arms as well, to be hers. For days until the date, I devoted all my sexual energy to her. Her picture, profile, and even her arrogant online personality chased my dreams, waking me up in fever.

Tuesday, an odd day for a date. She was late. I waited an hour alone on the table for her. The restaurant was full, I couldn't lose the table. There were some advanced ladies with wealthy men exchanging fancy gifts for the opportunity to be with these dames. I had to hope Helen wouldn't expect a thousand dollar diamond earings from me. Reading the prices of the restaurant, I was going to max out my credit card anyway. If she didn't show in another half an hour, I'd say she flaked me.

I had an entire script inside of my head, what to talk about and what to not question. Helen had positions opposite of my political spectrum, especially on equality issues involving the dwindling men's rights under Clinton's long tenure. So I had to avoid that. Another day I overheard a heated conversation about this ridiculous notion that a woman can't rape a man. Great bar discussion. Why people had to talk about controversial issues in bars? That guy ended spanked by a tipsy 65-year-old lady after he flipped the finger at her. He got spanked until his bare buttocks got crimson like the Firebird. And it was in public, which was the most humiliating. Most ladies wisely delivered physical punishment in private. 

To keep me motivated in that restaurant table, waiting, I kept looking at the hundred photos I've saved of her, most of them were her fooling around other men in awe of her, so proud of her buffiness and sexiness that her resting face was provocative. The competition was young as me or younger, but they were mostly in their early thirties. My mother said that no men beyond their thirties would never marry a woman of his age. That modern woman had different priorities, and I had to cope with that. It wasn't easy to see my mother hooking up with my single friends under Dad's nose, but she's a woman and I have little say in her life. She also has two beds, yeah, even now that she is divorced she maintained both, to keep long term relationships and one night stands at the same time. If not the same night, after she dishes her official boyfriend for a ladies' night and never coming back alone. At times I had to wonder if she didn't know we all could hear both of her bedrooms from anywhere in the house. Good thing I had my place to live or I would never sleep. Soon she'll need three bedrooms.

It still impresses how cold Mom was with Dad. A year after the Leap both were convinced to have a 'polyamory relationship' and that they would have a second bedroom for casual partners, Over their last years together, she slept less and less in his bed, worse, he had to be in familiar terms with her affairs. She openly talked about the size that they packed, to kill any hope that Dad can be enough for her. Surely he had to listen to mom having the 'athletic sex' he wasn't capable of performing. With myself away from home, dad told me her lasting inhibitions towards casual sex were gone. Fucking a couple of young men in the couch became 'normal.' She told him to do the same, to bring his women to the party, sure, that's fair.

One day, looking at him sleeping across the corridor after an orgy with an entire fraternity in some mansion, Mom remembered that she was still married. Like that, she decided he should go, and crushed her wedding ring between her fingers until it split in two. Of course, she tried to hide that small act from me, not noticing that I was there. 

I guessed that many families changed as much as the matron's bodies. Helen wasn't different. Her favorite bodypart was her chest. Her pectorals eclipsed her breasts. Her cleavage was a muscle canyon that could trap my hand. What would feel like to touch them? I would wait another hour if I must.       

"Richard?" I heard a sultry female voice high above me, and I stood up. My eyes lined with her pectorals in full view, alive, breathing, larger than my imagination pictured them. I felt time slowing down as I tried to speak.

"Yes. Richard. My name," I thought I was prepared. I started to sweat cold. She was 6'8 in her high heeled sandals.

"Hmm, you look better than your profile," she said evaluating my features, and my cleanness, my hair, my clothes. My eyes couldn't leave her neck and shoulders, her black hair was in a bob, exposing traps that engulfed half of her neck, smoothly bridging with her delts, showing so much power that made me dizzy. Forearms that could crush the bones of my arms by closing her fist. Muscle of that size can't be taken lightly.

It was then I noticed her unimpressed face waiting for my mouth to move again. She wasn't the prettiest mom in town, but her muscles were more than large enough to compensate for it. She was hooked on constant growth, half of her pictures are from her insane weightlifting at the ladies' gym and pictures of mountains of high protein meals. Getting little bigger here and there, amassing more weight, more muscles. Her definition was crazy. I could see each of the muscles in her forearm moving as she took her bigger chair to seat.

Besides, she was about to enter an age that would beautify her. She'll be damn impressive in ten years, a huge monster of muscles in twenty years.

"I'm starving," my date said as I sat before her, and my chair was lower in height than hers. Helen loomed over me and the small table; her long arms embraced half of it. My god, she flexed both of her biceps, like two loaves of bread baking instantly in a hot oven. So impressive to see muscles of her size up close. She flexed again harder to break my reverie.

Helen was not amused, and pointed up her thumbs, making those muscles to jump once again, "my face is up here, Richard."

I was about to lose my edge. I excused myself to the bathroom before it was too late. I jerked off twice that day to cool off my uncontrollable libido. I'd needed to do it again. Damn ladies.

Five minutes later, I felt like myself again, "sorry about that."

Helen just raised her eyebrows acknowledging it, "You're excused. I'm very aware of the impression my physique have on men. Are you better now?" I think Helen could read me so easily that I felt naked. She obviously saw that I was desperate for sex and her big muscles were too much for my senses.

"I'll ask for the menus," I said forcing a smile towards a waiter.

"I already ordered for us. Do you like fish?" She turned her body to the side so she could cross her thick but long legs.

I hated fish. I couldn't blow that opportunity either. "I love fish," I said staring at her magnificent legs in rosy stockings, so thick that was a miracle how she flexed her calf without destroying her pantyhose, or either that she could cross one muscular leg over the other.

"Tell me about yourself," Helen said resting her head over hand, her elbow on the table, her bulging biceps squished by her bulging forearm, looking at me clinically. Then, what followed next seemed more a job interview than a date. She asked about everything: if I had kids. If I wanted kids. My college. My grades. My work. My salary. What I wanted from my career. How I handled pressure. How I was different from other guys. What motivated me. How many relationships, for how long they lasted. How many partners I had. Last time I laid. She didn't leave a rock unturned and grew unimpressed with each answer of mine.

When the food arrived, she asked for a second bottle of wine. These women could drink. Especially 100 dollars wine bottles.

Before I could take my turn to ask about her, she started to talk about 'some whiny loser' she just rejected earlier. "Men became such sore pussies," Helen said as her jaw crunched the spicy food, "we already fucked twice. He should be so thankful... if you are not my type, move on, right? Deal with it. Life is harsh. He should be happy with what I allowed him to have. Another 'half-empty glass' kind of man. I hate men like that," she said while eying three handsome men in tuxedos taking a table near ours, celebrating some event, one of them carried a trophy. They were in their twenties. I could read her mouth saying 'yummy.'

"I'm half full," I said, trying to fake any pleasure eating a paella.

"What?" She looked at me like I was crazy as my plate was untouched.

"I'm a half-full glass kind of guy."

She didn't reply or eased my awkwardness. She wasn't paying attention to me anymore, Helen was more intrigued about the three young fellas that just arrived. Gulping an entire glass of wine in her throat, she said out of the blue, "dating is hard for men. Isn't it?" Helen flexed one of her arms as she was clearing the hair from her eyes, and that flex wasn't for me. I couldn't see the three men from my point of view, but surely they could see her. Helen put her chair at a certain distance and angle from our table so she could show her fabulous legs, and hypnotic calves and quads and hamstrings for the whole restaurant to admire. Two waiters collided with each other the moment she crossed and recrossed them. She giggled at their messy expense.

Once she had a new audience, Helen spoke more lively, moving her arms more vocally to draw even more attention to herself. Her muscles flexed and unflexed as she talked about all these men she has been meeting. Of how they somehow frustrated her and couldn't learn what she wanted. Or that after having three children no cock was large enough to fill her like before, even before the Leap. That she needed it big and so few of the hundred men she recently met filled the criteria. I didn't ask about any of that. She was just spitting out and bragged how pitiful weak most of them are and how the majority had no control over themselves. And growing larger and stronger every year was only making them more pathetic in comparison.

She hardly met my eyes. Helen was still gazing at the three young men while finishing the second bottle of expensive wine. At least she let me appreciate her muscles.

Helen glanced at me only to attest that my eyes were eating her massive body, predictable as most men of my age, any age. Before the Leap, my sex life in college used to be so smooth and effortless. Suddenly, this, having to relearn to flirt again. I was losing Helen. Or already lost.
         
"Can I be honest with you, Tony?"

"It is Richard."

"You are the fifth guy I've met this week and..."

"It is still Tuesday," I said in surprise.

"It is not polite to interrupt a lady," she instructed me. "And I don't really want to spank that soft butt of yours to teach you some manners. Do you even go to the gym? Why are you so sloth? I bet you can't lift one of my arms without straining these sticks." She pointed to my arms and hers. "Anyway, you are in the lower bracket in here, Richard. Sorry to inform you that I see very little here. So don't hold any hopes for me. Or anyone like me."

I was speechless. I didn't know how to react to someone being so blunt on a first date. It was like Helen wanted to burn me, so I stop importunating ladies.

Helen crossed her arms beneath her impressive pectorals, which also seemed to be entities judging me as well, "I'm waiting for your defense, Richard. I know that you are dying to enter the temple of sex that is my body, are you worthy of it?" Only a woman with a body like hers could pull out such a phrase with a straight face. Who would be worthy? A billionaire celebrity? An Olympics golden medalist? A Nobel prize winner? I thought about it but didn't have the courage to say.

Then, the oddest thing, she brought her supremely jacked arms to the side and pushed her chest up front gloriously, and flexed her pecs hard, making them spill over from her cleavage of her dress like soccer balls. It took my whole attention, my whole shocked being.  Helen's definition so startling that could see each muscle moving like the keys of a piano as she bunched them all up and higher until it almost met her chin, and bounced again. 

I got instantaneously hard and drooled like a starving dog; I couldn't hold for long. I had the reflex to grip my cock as it would fly away from me. Her glassy eyes were finally connected with mine as she did it again. It felt like a ghost handjob, or a pec job, whatever it is, she pulled its strings with each flex of her enormous pectoral muscles, and it did it. A chain event that would make me ruin my pants in the middle of a crowded restaurant. Her pectorals flexing were completely pornographic to me. I could feel my hardened member between them, crushed by them, at each bounce, a new ghost stroke making me harder, and five more, I was holding myself against the table like I was having a stroke. My hips almost moved by themselves, splurging right there in the middle of the restaurant. No one cared, but I heard a few laughs from another lady.

Helen wasn't impressed at all. Much the opposite. It was too easy. So easy that she couldn't possibly see me as a desirable mate, or even as a man. "That's too bad, Richard. You are not suited for sex with me. I need someone that can handle this," and she expanded her lats, arousing me again. "I don't need another kid, one that wets himself with a sneeze of mine. I already have three children at home that can't handle their mother. I know you put some real effort to meet me, Richard, probably you jerked off the whole week while looking at my pictures. You had relieved yourself in the bathroom as soon as your eyes laid on me again. You have a very weak game here, Richard. I'm not interested in you and have neither the time or patience to deal with men like you. Better luck next time," Helen said while standing up to her towering height, adjusting her skintight dress and changing course to the table with three young men in tuxedos.

No, I said to myself. I couldn't let her leave so easily, so I put myself between the big amazon and her new targets.

For a moment it surprised her, but she frowned as my eyes again lingered towards her pectorals pushing 'v' of her cleavage to the ripping point. "I've already made my mind, Richard. Go home."

"Don't go, please, I'm…" and then Helen cut me out, not with her voice but by her iron clasp grip around my neck, lifting my weight with one arm. My feet started to leave the carpet as my cheeks probably grew purple and my eyes seemed to pop out of the sockets. Blood stop flowing into my brain.

Helen said very slowly, so she would only need to say once: "When a lady makes her mind, don't ever question her," and she shoved me to the center of the restaurant. My body rolled until I collided with the grand piano.

In the old pre-Leap days, someone would have called the police. Instead, I heard applauses from every woman in there, the old and new, the big and not so big, including the three young men in tuxedos. Helen waved to the crowd under the sounds of "go girl, show him" or "make'em lick the pumps" or "give him a good old time spanking."

After coughing my lungs out, two waiters aided me to put me back on my table, and a third one shoved the bill in front of me in a manner that said 'pay and leave.'

$449.88. Or a week of work.

And that's when I started to think twice about dating older women. They are ruthless, demanding, too sexy, too libidinous and too strong. That experience cemented that I had not the mental capacity to deal with an older woman yet. Months later, I still felt Helen's grip on my neck.   

What I had left were the harmless twenty-year-old college girls. Who would want to date young girls? Still, even girls above twenty-five were becoming too intimidating to me.


...

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Jeremy Lightning on August 25, 2017, 03:40:42 am

Great picture first of all, what a sexy lady, definitely a Goddess compared to even the most beautiful of ladies alive today. Second, I guess I can see that Helen's attitude is most likely deserved, she is too much for any man, and most likely hasn't found someone who can truly satisfy her, but never stops looking, unfortunately Richard was too old, not near muscular, strong, tough, and hung enough to even interest her a little, Richard...well, even before being dumped came off as a loser, the guys that Helen were looking at looked like winners, though I would very much venture to guess that even all 3 of them together couldn't fully satisfy Helen. k+!

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: nickolai on August 25, 2017, 05:25:41 am

Great chapter.  Interesting world where not only to older women have the pick of younger men, but men no longer desire younger women.  They desire older and increasingly godlike women.  Wonder what the legendary women who reached their 90's did in or to the world.  Has the world around them - cars, airplanes, furniture, elevators/stairs - been able to accommodate their until now impossible size, strength and density.  The power their legs transmit into the ground just form walking probably cracks concrete and asphalt.  Shop windows crack and shatter from the rumbling ground as they pass.  And that is just unintentional, casual power.  What feats do these 90+ achieve when they are focused and approach with intent and purpose.

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Rs34 on August 25, 2017, 09:29:45 pm

First of all I will like to say that you are mine favorite Author and that I am really excited to see you write again. Not only that you write again but you also write about my favorite topic, about older muscular woman. I am hardly waiting to read again how you vividly explain the woman’s transformation, how she used to look and how she looks now. But most of all the changes in her attitude and how a male character coping with that changes. That's why I would like to see how he encounters some old acquaintance (older neighbor he used to help…). Basically the things that are happening in first years of the Leap when the things are still confused.

I would also like to add my opinion, I like when mature muscle women don't change so much in their faces, the contrast between their unbelievable sexy bodies and their older faces turns me on. But that is just my opinion, I fully accept and respect whatever you write!

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: lowerbase on August 25, 2017, 10:44:58 pm

Thanks guys, really appreciate the comments and they help me to shape the story. I always listen to the feedback while writing.

I like to write fantasies about women of all ages, they all fascinate me in their own way. Be a wise teenager or an immature lady. I also like to write about the best and the worst, so I decided to kick out the story with the worst. Helen here is a self-entitled bitch who likes to crush men to feel better about herself --after a life of self-loathing in pre-Leap years. Not all ladies are like her, there is the opposite of Helen somewhere in the story, an amorous lady who's lurking around.

I see your point, RS, nice to hear you follow my stuff. I hope I'm getting better with the grammar. I first thought about them showing skin signs of old age, but then that wouldn't mix with the ladies getting healthier and stronger with age. But I take into account that the mature facial bone structure looks different from youth, so it is not like they are regaining 'cuteness' (the large eyes, bulging craniums, or the retreating chin of youth) but becoming fabulous and glamorous instead.

Besides, I wanted the younger women to envy the ladies over everything: flawless soft skin, perfected facial features, a body that lords over gravity, a satisfying and rich sex life, orgasms that are stronger and longer than an heroin shot, had to be in the package.

This story will be a bunch of recollections of what these last ten years have been doing to Richard, so yes, he has a lot to tell about his family, his friends, his mom's friends, creepy neighbor family, co-workers, ex-girlfriend he dumped in high school, and how they changed. That is, if I'm able to write all that. 

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Rs34 on August 26, 2017, 07:38:30 am

Lowerbase (crazyfck) I have complete trust in you and I know that this story will be fabulous like all of your stories. Keep up the good work! I forgot to add it would be nice to see some super abilities like smelling guys pheromones hearing their hart beat. I noticed that you mention your grammar couple of times in your post. I never had a problem with your grammar!

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: thebaron on August 26, 2017, 05:38:01 pm

I love the little details and asides in your stories that and the complex ways that society changes as women become more powerful and being to dominate.

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Circes_cup on September 01, 2017, 01:16:51 am

I love how clumsy and tongue-tied he gets in the date.  I don't think I could write such an awkward scene.  I've lived plenty of those scenes, mind you.  In fact, I consider myself something of a conoisseur of awkward dates.  Just can't write em!

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: lowerbase on September 04, 2017, 02:49:30 am

who said that life inside of a fantasy is easy... well, here we go again



....



3: Confusing Times



I still had one hour to kill before my leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even my gym clothes wouldn't then be spared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Around nine the lights went out in the entire city.

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Behave, huh?"

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

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

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

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

Talk about awkward. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"They look amazing on you," she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How much it weights?"

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

"How many pounds are that?"

"About two thousand."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone would struggle for a while.

Some would struggle for longer.

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

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

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


...

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: JerusalemTulip on September 05, 2017, 03:54:00 am

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

Anyway, great story.

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: lowerbase on September 05, 2017, 04:19:31 am

I feel that the first person view is the most effective for fantasies, from a 'neutral' kind of character.

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

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

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: nickolai on September 06, 2017, 03:55:51 pm

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

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

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: lowerbase on September 06, 2017, 07:42:52 pm

thanks nickolai

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Fluff on September 06, 2017, 08:50:01 pm

 :bravo: :woohoo:

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: nickolai on September 06, 2017, 10:03:05 pm

Quote from: lowerbase on September 06, 2017, 07:42:52 pm

thanks nickolai

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: lowerbase on September 07, 2017, 01:03:39 am

Yeah, unfortunately when a woman reaches a certain age, she is obligated to retire. Otherwise the safety in workplace (and the building) would be at risk.

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

   

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Rs34 on September 08, 2017, 05:13:43 pm

The story is getting better and better! I can't wait to read next chapter where women are already well aware of the effect they have on men, with other words complete brainfck!

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: nickolai on September 12, 2017, 03:38:12 pm

Quote from: lowerbase on September 07, 2017, 01:03:39 am

Yeah, unfortunately when a woman reaches a certain age, she is obligated to retire. Otherwise the safety in workplace (and the building) would be at risk.

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

 

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

Keep up the great work!

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Circes_cup on September 21, 2017, 09:54:34 pm

Really good story, as always, LB!

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

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

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

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Afterpast on September 22, 2017, 04:10:03 pm

Odd that Richard doesn't realize he can date a desperate girl out of her education and have the luxury of watching her grow over the years, she may learn to not be satisfied by him but that'd probably only come around her 50's. Certainly better than being woman-handled and embarrassed to such a degree, plus he'd still get his fix of femuscle...in due time.

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

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Rs34 on October 26, 2017, 11:46:12 am

Lowerbase how is the story going on? I will really like to read new chapters of this great story.  I can't thank you enough for all the great stories you wrote!

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Fluff on October 26, 2017, 10:21:13 pm

Hear hear!

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: lowerbase on January 24, 2018, 04:34:47 am

...


In the office's lunchroom, the TV was preaching the new gospel. I drunk my espresso while watching it. At least it wasn't Hillary Clinton addressing the nation for the third term election again.

"What keeps your marriage going?"
 
A 61-year-old blond amazon with the tag 'biceps: 25 and 1/2 inches' replied with a wide smile at her seated husband just below her line of her impressive bust, "we are in opposite directions at life right now. The reality is that I'm earning the double I've made the last year, while for him, no one hires a man of his age. If it was difficult for him to cope, it is always getting harder. I have a bright future ahead of me. He only has me. He cannot walk alone at night without a lady protecting him. Or going anywhere before my consent. He was already weak and meek in his 40s, now any of my lady friends could kill him with a jostle. Unlike my daughters, he is each day more dependable on me, which is a blessing and a curse. Like caretaking a baby, I can't just forget about him, or his feelings, that my constant, abundant development makes him feel less of a man. I have to be remindful all the time that the man that I love is with me. At times while gathering my lovers to my bed, I have to restrain myself not to scream or break things as he would just start to cry alone. Such a downer. He just can't be happy for me for having a delicious meal, his old male manners and pride are still in there. Every time I had to remember him that I'm a 6'11 tall lady with more hormones than a class full of boys. He can't handle even my breast size," the female audience chuckled as she glanced down at the perfect soccer-ball spheres bursting out from her tight top, "and they will only get bigger with time while his weak male body becomes weaker. As they grow old, men have to stop looking after themselves but only look up at their wifes, sisters, and mothers instead. A man who wants to keep his wife must love needs to love each of her achievements as his own because there is nothing else for them." The camera panned over her muscular warrior body, and the TV screen filled up with her skin shimmering with vigor as parts of her body bulged with size and pride pneumatically. "He needs to adore the fact that his wife is only going to go higher, and to love every inch of her journey to power." The camera framed her beautiful face, her sharp jaws and her eyes projecting blind certainties, "all I want from my dear hubby is his admiration. All of it. And just for me and no one else," she tensed her 25 and 1/2 ball of biceps to him, making veins to sprout and his eyes unable to escape from them, "that's the most powerful lady aphrodisiac that there is, his gazes of wonder. The more my hubby admires me today, more he will admire me tomorrow, because there will be more of me every day, every week,  every year, and every decade, for the rest of our lives."

The amazon host lightly applauded the amazonian lady host with her mic, "alrighty then! Can I ask your husband some questions?" The blond amazon nodded the permission.

"Hi, David. Cassandra used to be shorter than you before the Firebird. Do you think your wife changed inside?"

He looked up at his wife like an imperious mother, "go ahead," she said as her eyes gave him a reassuring push, the beautiful towering blonde raised her eyebrow waiting for the right answer.

He took her hand, "nothing. Inside she's the same sweet person she ever was. The same one I've dated and fell in love, her favorite movie still is Bridges of Madison. My Salmon Teriyaki is still her favorite dish." the female audience fawned at that. "The world that has changed. That's all. It is easier for us men to adapt since it is not us that is changing. It is them. What we can only do is to stop and then support our counterpart to arise over these new challenges. We love each other, and I don't mind to share my wife with the world. She deserves to be appreciated not only by me but by anyone she wishes. It is just fair. Well, it is not like I can stop her anyway," the female audience laughed.

The muscular host looked at him skeptically, "but why she still has to 'control herself,' David? What happens to you when she gets too wild with other lovers under the same roof? Why are you such a crybaby?" The audience laughed once more. "A single man can't satisfy a lady like your wife. You should know that by now."

"I can't make her happy by myself, yes. It is not her fault. I… cry for me not to be there." The female audience gave a collective aww as his wife took his smaller hands in soothing pity.

"That's right," said the host. "We ladies were always extremely sexual, only now we can spill that out. More sexuality than any woman before the Firebird, but our heart becomes softer as it grows stronger. David here is a good understanding husband, knows that his diminishing place in his marriage is compensated tenfold by the success of his soulmate, bringing him a successful relationship in times where divorce rates for older couples are nearly 90%."   

Jeb, a co-worker, walked to my side. He avoided coffee, sugar, anything that would hurt his good looks and gym-conscious body. "Hey, Richard, my man, how are you doing? It has been a great day. Beautiful day. Look at the sky, beautiful sky. How can anyone be down with a sunset like this? Heads up, man. Life is brilliant."

Obviously, Jeb was going to give me bad news. He was Donna's favorite for the month, on his fours spending his work hours beneath her desk, between her strong thighs, pleasing her. That meant he had access to information the rest of us didn't have.

"I heard the ladies talking about removing the cubicle walls, is that right?" I asked him.

"Sure, they can't even fit in them to supervise us anymore. Think of it as open space. We guys don't need that much privacy," Jeb said already defending the ladies new policies, bewitched by the allure of their bodies. "Open offices are more much efficient and transparent. More collaborative. More fun."

An open office was just more comfortable for the ladies to boss from their big executive chairs at a distance. Donna's glass walls of her office were just before the outside of my cubicle. Every day I'd see the masses of her muscles fighting for space when she crossed legs, always in sheer nylon to gather her muscles more attention. Colorful ones when she was happy and pleased, darker when Donna didn't want us near her. It was dangerous to leer into them. Without my cubicle wall how I'll ever be able to concentrate? Always in my view? I'll be fired so soon.

"By the way, Ms.Shields decided to audit the inventory again, by purchase order this time," Jeb said.

That would never fill the gap in the spreadsheets, yet I said nothing. I was a coward. "It will take us a full week to starting to sort it out. Did she asked specifically for me?"

"No… I'll be off for the annual Paris conference. Bill and Jake to personally assist her as well. So… it has to be you. Sorry."

Assist. Right. Jake couldn't spot Paris on a map. Young, uneducated and stupid just as Bill, the newest trainee, just twenty years old. Anyone there was better than me. I always treated her fairly since I recommended her for a lower position years ago after a frustrated date with her. She needed this job, and I helped her. Donna never acknowledged me for it... maybe because the whole date went sour once I met her rival and much older sister when I picked her.

Besides, she used to have a whiny nasal voice that used to drive me nuts. Her voice became deeper, penetrating and sultry, smoky now with her empowering chest, arousing me by her voice alone on the office phone. 

Yes. To this day I think what would have happened if I dated Donna, and started a relationship, nurtured her development towards the fierce executive she is today. She was everything I would want in a lady, and I let it slip for a sly chance to fuck her big powerful sister, who just tossed me aside when I advanced on her. My worst life decision.

Jeb and I felt a vibration in the office.

"There they go," Jeb pointed up to a forgotten glass of water resting on the table. The circular rings in water were like a T-Rex approaching indeed. They were coming down from the executive's gym in the ground level. All of us could feel the small tremors under the rug, the office windows rattling from the massive tonnage these ladies could pull. Most of the top level execs were in their 60s and 70s goddess range, absurdly superhuman strong, we called them the Iron Maidens. No people were allowed inside the gym as it could be fatal. Not even the hardest metal rods endured their increasing strength. Men would watch and cheer from the cafeteria the ladies' spectacle, like groupies.

I didn't know if it was a reminder for whom was in charge or was either to entice us. Every Friday before the happy hour, the Iron Maidens would get together and measure each other in either size, physical strength and celebrate afterward, choosing which fuckboys to party in clubs and then to bring them home, perhaps for the weekend. Or to become a Personal Assistant, like Jake and Bill, the only thing they are to be good for, their cocks and tongue. 

Most female employees didn't dare to enter that gym unless they are at least 6'10 and built like a tank, or to lift a tank. The Iron Maidens were an exclusive group. Women didn't resent their exclusivity, as they all knew their time would come to join.

All of them but my boss, that while big, was still in her early thirties, just some inches higher than me. It was a long wait for her to join the club of power execs.

When I met her by common friends, Donna had many doubts about her future. Donna felt that ladies made men act like crazy assholes and said that she didn't want to be a part of it. Somewhere between then and now gave her a change of heart. Her softer side melted along with her chubbiness, as her muscles were growing not only she was 'part of it', Donna was 'it'.

Speaking of the devil, we both heard Donna's deep voice behind us, "you…"

There she was walking to us, her Hugo Boss stilettos clicking on the hard floor making her fishnet stockings of enduring the shifting mass of her quads, each big as my waist. She always seemed more massive to me, growing faster than any woman I've met before. Donna had the natural talent to build muscles. While Donna was still 6'2, her shoes added 9 inches to her, making my nose as high as her breastbone. It was impossible for me not to travel my eyes around the sheer blouse she was wearing, also see-through on her sleeves to let her twenty inches guns exposed for men to watch and drool.

"To my office," she said crossing us without even glancing at us.

"Right away, Ms.Shields," Jeb said tightening his tie.

"Not you. Richard." She said walking between the cubicles, inspecting her employees as she entered the glass walls of her grand office.

I looked at Jeb as the automatic curtains inside of her office closed. My palms were sweating. "Here, bring her Ristretto, and the mint. And cream. Take these biscotti too, she likes to crunch them," and he handed me the tray loaded with napkins and all he could remember. I thanked Jeb as my heart pounded. I wasn't prepared for this.

The last time I entered Donna's office, she didn't need to pretend that Bill wasn't beneath her desk, with his mouth locked in her juices. She just signed the papers while I could see his head bobbing in and out slowly and rhythmically. "Anything else?" Donna then asked me as her muscular forearm twitched with veins and her fists clenched on the papers as Bill worked faster, galloping towards the sweet spot. I could only marvel at her eyes shut making her serious muscles harder and stiffer surging against her constricting clothes. She was destined to be BIG, and she knew it. No one was that big and so damning strong so young.

I asked him, "Jeb, how can you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Be so calm and cool when Ms.Shields addresses you like she's not building that much muscle so fast. Her clothes are always near tearing apart."

"I used to melt like butter, but after having sex with a 65-year old, it changed everything. Once you witness the earthquake orgasm of a 400lbs amazon, you will see life differently. Its… Heaven's Gate. Now go, Ms.Shields hates not to be obeyed instantly."

I carried the tray as I felt my co-workers eyeing me as I approached Donna's secretary. He just acknowledged me and the automatic double doors to her office opened for me to pass.

The doors locked behind me.

With the curtains closed, the sunset seemed brighter, shining over her junior bodybuilding trophies and pictures of her with influential people. I've been told that Donna was receiving a six-figure salary, two zeroes more than my figure. Her career offshoot was indeed meeting her ambitions faster than she could ever hope to anticipate.

Her elbows were resting on the glass table, supporting her head, watching me to walk closer. That day she was wearing fishnet stockings, enhancing the volumes of muscles on89 her legs. "Thanks, Richard," she said taking the biscotti, and her strong jaw crunched its hardness loudly without dipping into the coffee first. "Seat," she said without any emotion.     
 
I took the small chair at the center of her big office, and then I heard the heavy stiletto pumps to fall on the carpet. "I love this shoes, but my feet not so much," she said massaging her beautiful foot with her thumbs on its arch, waiting for a response from me on her cue.

I was paralyzed. Part of me wanted to 'assist' my boss, and crawl to her and make her feet to feel better. The other side of made me unsure if it would backfire and she would crush me for inappropriate behavior in the office, as the law permits.

Donna chuckled at my indecision and brought her legs to her table, making her chair to groan as Donna shifted her position. "I saw your MIA scores, Richard." She said taking a sip of her super hot coffee.   

If I was sweating then, I was drenching my shirt now. "They're… supposed to be private information, Ms.Shields."

"Information that is harmful to the company is not private, Richard. You have the lowest MIA score in the office." 

"It… doesn't affect my performance, Ms.Shields."

She stood up and walked between her table and me, barefooted, and rested on it. Her legs rippled in muscle flexed her quads more, stretching her fishnet along her huge smooth muscles. Putting her coffee aside, Donna started flexing her lats, and suddenly she seemed to double in size. I felt myself losing control at such vision. At such simple demonstration of power. I was that weak, that's what my MIA scores represented. My lack of self-control near ladies.

Donna chuckled watching me contorting like a horny worm with little convulsions as I orgasmed against my will.

"You know, Richard. Men like you have only two attitudes with strong ladies like me, or they always tell the truth, or they only lie to get out of the trouble. Which one are you?" She flexed her arms, bulging them and pumping them more making me hard again.

I couldn't talk. My mind was foggy from desire. All I could see was her muscles flexing and unflexing, imagining just how strong she was, and how quickly these same muscles could dig into my flesh and bones and snap it. Fear and desire walked side by side with these ladies.

Donna crossed her arms bringing her muscular chest deepening her cleavage, "surely it is better to know you better. Men… how can you even concentrate on the task at hand with muscles like these around the office, Richard?" She said gesturing to her awesomely muscular body.

I was still squirming. That was so fucking humiliating. 

"How can you even address to your superiors in this pathetic state, Richard?" She pressed me, Donna had no compassion or patience, "you are witnessing my muscles getting bigger, and they're just starting their own journey, how will you be able to look your boss in the eyes ever then? Will you melt like a bubbling idiot each time you take a peek at my body? Do you know how uncomfortable it feels like for my colleagues and me to deal with weak minded people like you?"

I was unable to respond. It was so true.

"Does your mother know about your condition?"

Out of fear, I couldn't lie to her even if I wanted, "yes."

"She has lacked her responsibilities then. Should I have to talk to her?"

"No! Please, Ms.Shields. She's… thinking I'm getting better."

"I'll test you now and then, Richard. You shall better control yourself to deserve a place in this company." 

"Yes, Ms.Shields."

"Now, pick up my shoes."

"What?"

"Are you also deaf?"

"Sorry… I…" I crawled to the side of her table where she had dropped her black and shiny stilettos and carried them to her. It was much sturdy than they look, made of metal instead of only leather. That's why they sound so loud as these ladies walk.

Donna just extended her leg to me, expanding her bulging calves with a moderate flex hardening them until her veins were apparent in her fishnet stockings. I find myself trembling, trying to fit her shoe onto her beautifully extended foot. I was fighting another imminent orgasm.

"It is a simple task, Richard. If you can't do it, I'll fire you on the spot and you'd never find another work without my recommendation."

Like a Jedi, I concentrated on the task at hand, doing my best to ignore the sexual urges her body inflicted on my being. The ladies had no compassion towards my kind, at most they think that being harsh with me was 'building my character', but I still think these ladies get off on guys like me to make them feel instantly better about themselves.     

The Hugo Boss shoes fit like a glove into her foot, which seemed dainty and gracious near the web of muscles just above it. With that fatal look, the stilettos made it look like a sexy weapon.

She didn't acknowledge my efforts as I put the second shoe, and Donna stood up over me with them. Looking up at her, I couldn't tell she was amused or was considerating to stomp on me like a cockroach.

Ms. Shield crunched her biscuits dry, making a terrifying noise as she moved her strong jaws against it, "you have a month to bring down your MIA scores. Then we'll talk about your future in this company. Otherwise, you'll be terminated by inappropriate behavior, and that will end your career for life. Do you understand, Richard?"

"Yes, Ms.Shields." 

"Now, leave. Tell Jeb I need his services me before he leaves."

"Yes, Ms.Shields."

Accustomed to this situations, I had a spare set of pants in my cubicle. In the bathroom, I cleaned my face, and Jake entered it. "Hey, man, Ms.Shields called you into her office. Are you still with us?"

"I'm still here."

"Oh, good. Donna is something, huh? I'd say she's ten years too early in her development. Donna has the body of a 50-year old already. Insane. Can you imagine her with 60? 70? Her strength, God. One day a guy tried to rob me, you know, there are plenty of them out there. He had a pocket knife saying that he was going to slash me if I didn't drop the bag… which was Ms. Shield's shopping bag, and I was holding it for her. When she sees him…"

"Jesus. Did she killed him?"

"I'm not sure. We didn't stay too long to find out. I saw one of his eyes busted by the concussion. It doesn't matter what happened to him. It was self-defense. He had a knife."

"Self-defense? What a pocket knife could do to Ms.Shields?"

"She's still flesh and blood. What's your point, Richard? Donna saved me. I owe her my life."

"It was a dude with a pocket knife, Jake. Maybe desperate for food. There are a lot of men like him on the streets."

"Yeah. Someone should just end their misery anyways. Donna is the most caring and thoughtful person I know. How could you dare to imply she would hurt someone on purpose? Do you have any idea what a woman like Donna could do to a guy like you or me? Huh? How many men the Butcheress of Clearwater killed? 300? She brought down three buildings in her carnage. The Butcheress was just 65 years old before they knocked her down. Donna wouldn't use her muscles to hurt a fly unless it wants to bite her. Ms.Shields never raised her voice to me, even when she wants me to know she's upset. She never really hurt me."

"Okay, Jake. I hear you. Donna is sweet and nice."

"What's up with that attitude? You won't go any far in life acting like this. You are thirty years old, dude. Your window to catch a wife is closing, and you aren't doing yourself any favors. Look at you. You are thin but all flabby. Where are your abs? When was the last time you played some sport or even lifted?"

"I don't have time to develop abs, Jake."

"The ladies just want stamina, dude. They have a clinical eye for it. Once they see you got it, they will just take you. And maybe you'll learn the right attitude. Athletic sex needs some maximum conditioning. Do you know this right? How can you please a lady with a body like yours? How many miles do you run each week?"

"None."

He glanced at my soft belly and my arms devoided of any muscular charm.

"Oh, man… don't you ever dream to have sex with a lady? Must be all the time, huh? Do you know what takes for Athletic Sex?" Damn twenty-years-old who think that know it all. Jake was build like a seasoned surfer, the preferred kind of body the ladies want. The only reason of his hiring. 

"What I need to do, Jake?"

"Avoid booze, fat, soft drinks, sugar, irregular sleep, porn, bars, weed, games, TV, seating on internet, and devote your body and mind for better sex. Drink a lot of water, stay hydrated, and then you jog some five miles every day, wearing an elevation mask helps to build more resistance." 

"Five miles? Sundays too?"

"On Sundays, I do ten, Richard. That's what makes my services wanted."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, but it pays back big time. There are very few things in life worse than an unsatisfied lady. I can prescribe you a killing diet and the latest exercises to get in shape for athletic sex. I just discovered about this hips exercise. You need a better core. Ms.Shields saw that exercise in a magazine and requested that I'd add it to my routine, my butt now is tight they way she likes, and my performance got stellar. You should try."

"Maybe next time." Those who didn't have the stamina to handle a lady, had to open their wallets with absurdly expensive gifts. I didn't have either. I needed one of those two. There are huge lists of shores that men should do to keep up with a lady: penis exercises, cooking classes, culingullus courses, floss, the list was endless, "have you… ever had sex with a very advanced lady, Jake?"

"I'm alive… so would guess not," he joked, "I know my limits, above 70, only a team of olympic rowers can keep up with such power lady. Besides, it is like playing with dynamite, not only they might crush you in a deadly orgasm, ladies of that caliber can get sexually frustrated like this" Jeb snapped his fingers, "and then your ribs…" he compressed his plastic cup slowly, making it crack and crumble inside of his fist. "You have to know your limits."

"Do you have an advanced lady in your family?"

"My grandma is 75…" I noticed Jake becoming uncomfortable in the pants, "the tallest lady I've ever seen. She's Australian, and she used to be big boned before the Firebird."

"Holy shit, how do you manage that?"

"Well, she spends most of her time traveling the world, I only see her on Christmas. But my MIA scores are pretty low. I can be in her presence long enough without losing my nuts. She met this super rich guy who let her destroy his ancient castles in Europe. He has a collection of them, he doesn't even care anymore about them. Crazy. They filmed her lifting boulders of the size of a car and hurled them into those ruins. You know how women are, the stronger they get, the more they want crush bigger things."

"Castles?"

"Yeah, I'll send a link later. It might even become a TV special, and she'll be famous."

"Your MIA scores were always low?"

"No. Of course not. My MIA went down and controlled myself better after a session with an old friend of mom's. She helped most guys of my family to deal better with it. It was years ago. Why? How your score is doing?"

"It is fine," I said finishing the conversation. "Under control."

"Really?" Jake noticed I was carrying an extra pair of pants.

I knew what I needed to do to keep my work. I have to bed at least a 60-year-old advanced lady, who mostly behaved like almighty divas. But how? Whom?


...

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: nickolai on January 24, 2018, 03:48:00 pm

Yes!! You are back with us!  What an awesome surprise!!

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Rs34 on January 26, 2018, 01:46:49 pm

Great stuff as always! I tought you would give up on this great story!

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: mermoz on January 29, 2018, 05:04:13 am

Hello I really like the developpment of the story. The feeling of the boss towards the hero shows that she knows that she owe him her position (partly) and she does not accept that. So she will be rude with him. I like the way the fellow of the hero defend his mistress saying that when she hit a thief it was légitime defense and that she is a sweet personality. The way she hit once a guy and let him half dead or more without thinking further about him is great too. The relation of the episode as something banal by q third person emphasize the contempt of the boss for men, and the way they accept her utterly superiority.
In short words your story is really great. Thank you and please forget my poor English.

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: Jaguar on February 02, 2018, 05:55:36 pm

Great story Lowerbase!  I'm really enjoying this, I'm another of those who particularly like the flashbacks to the early days of the transformations.  But it is all good. 

Just in general, you have a great way of thinking up new story lines and new worlds.

Fellow READERS:  On Karma, everyone of us should click 'applaud' on stories we like so that authors know they're appreciated (and so they get the Karma they deserve).  Giving karma is anonymous, but you have to register. 

You can make up a second email address on hotmail, gmail, or other web-based email service, and then your registration and associated email is concealed, unless you specifically go and sign-on to that second email account.  You have privacy from your significant other.  So there is no reason not to register and give karma.

BTW, I always 'applaud' a story I like.  If the story is particularly good, I'll go back and applaud it a few times (waiting the required hour in between).  However, I've noticed sometimes that sometimes the votes don't stick.

AUTHORS: I think a better measure for authors of how good a story is is how many reads it gets as more chapters are added on.  If people are coming back to read more, they must have liked what they read so far.

Title: Re: The Unfair Game [HG/FMG Mature]
Post by: nickolai on March 08, 2018, 12:24:04 am

Would love to get a little side taste / story of that link of Jake's 75 year old grandma's and maybe others' feats - watching her launching 5-10 ton boulders at castles.  When out of boulders she probably marches up to the castle, cracking and rumbling the pathway on her way, to finish the job with her bare hands. 

I think you even mentioned there was a park or something like that were people watched women perform boggling feats of strength with their ridiculously strong bodies.