April Fool's

[JohnAubrey]

Maybe this is going somewhere, maybe not. But I got the inkling of an idea yesterday and thought I'd see where it goes...




“I’m sorry? Let me get this straight: you’re saying a teenage girl is stronger than you?”

I glanced across at my wife, who had turned in her seat to face me, her expression entirely disbelieving.

“Yeah, probably. I mean, okay, I’m a man and I go to the gym, but I’m not really training like I’m a bodybuilder, or anything.”

“What, and Katy is training like a bodybuilder? No, stop being silly. The last time I saw her was when she was back home after her first term at uni and she was basically the same small little girl she’s always been. What is she, like, a foot shorter than me? There’s no way she’s stronger than me, let alone you!”

“You’ve really not seen her in a while, have you? That was over a year ago. She had a growth spurt. And she’s still shorter than you, but she’s definitely not smaller than you, not now.”

“What does that mean? How can she be bigger than me if she’s shorter than me?”

I slowed down as we approached the traffic lights.

“She’s… y’know, wider than you and I bet she weighs more than you now.”

“So she’s fat, then? She’s obese?”

“No, she’s not definitely not obese. She’s muscular. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! And muscle weighs more than fat so that’s why she weighs more than y… that’s why she weighs a lot,” I said, just about managing to avoid a possibly offensive choice of words.

“So you’re saying a teenage girl who is shorter than your wife is some kind of bodybuilding freak and now she magically has so much muscle that she’s heavier than me and stronger than you?

“She’s probably stronger than me, yeah. Dave said she’s squatting almost as much as him these days, and Dave likes his leg days. And I don’t think there’s anything magical about it: I think she works out pretty much every day.”

“No, I don’t believe it. You’re winding me up.”

“Hey, next time I go round to watch the match at Dave’s, you can come with me and see for yourself, if you like.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is - some weird attempt to get me to waste my Saturday afternoon and trick me into watching the match with you and Dave? Hang on, isn’t Saturday the first of April?”

“I guess so, yeah.”

“April Fool’s Day? You idiot, you had me going there for a while!”

“No, ignore the date: I’m telling you the truth! Why is it so hard to believe?”

“Because teenage girls are not stronger than adult men. Because teenage girls don’t just become…  become the Incredible Hulk. Because you are a wind-up merchant.”

“Why would I possibly lie about this?”

“No, the question is: why would you continue to lie about this now I’ve worked out what you’re up to? And the answer is: because you’re an arse.”

We sat in silence until the light turned green and we started to move again.

“I mean, it was actually pretty embarrassing confessing that Katy’s probably stronger than me. To be honest, I thought you’d take the piss out of me, not refuse to believe me. But, really, you should see her. She’s pretty amazing.”

“What the fuck does that mean? ‘She’s amazing’?”

“Not in a pervy way, or anything! Just… she’s impressive. You’d be impressed, is all.”

I risked another glance at my wife. She was glaring at me, her arms crossed, face like thunder.

“Fine. If that’s how you want to play it, sure, trick your wife into participating in a crappy joke by making her angry. This Saturday I’ll come with you, and I’ll meet Katy, and I’ll see just how amazing she is now for myself. I hope you think this was worth it, because all you’ve managed to do so far is sound like a creep and piss me right off.”

[tapion]

Great start ! Im curious how she looks like.

[brave_archer]

You have my attention, sir.

[JohnAubrey]

You know what? Maybe this is going somewhere, after all...





I planted my elbow on the table, gripped Katy’s hand, and tried not to look too intimidated.

It wasn’t easy.

Katy’s body remained hidden underneath her baggy hoodie, but she looked so damn cool and casual. Cocky, even. Her gaze was steady as she stared me down, her lips twitched as she failed to suppress a smirk, and her whole attitude was condescending. She knew that she was stronger than me. She knew that she was stronger than a fully-grown man and she knew that she would beat me.

I knew it too.

The problem was, my wife still didn’t believe it.

Katy squeezed my hand tighter and I tried not to wince.

“Shall we go on 3, Mr B?” she asked.

“Wait a minute,” interjected my wife, laying a hand on my shoulder. “I want to make sure you’re suitably motivated; I wouldn’t like to think you were giving anything less than 100%.”

She bent down and whispered in my ear. I blanched as I listened to her ultimatum.

“Please excuse us for a second, Katy - we just need to step outside for a moment.”

Katy let go of my hand and I stood up and reluctantly followed my wife out of the room.


---


The car door opened and my wife climbed in.

“Right, let’s go see Katy the Incredible She-Hulk, then.”

I held my tongue. The last few days had been full of barbed comments along these lines - “I was going to ask for your help carrying in the shopping, but as you think you’re weaker than a teenage girl, maybe I should just phone Katy and ask her to come round and do it”; or “Do you think these leggings fit me; do I look as amazing as Katy in them?” - but I knew she’d be eating her words shortly.

I remained diplomatic and didn’t mention we were now running late thanks to her decision, at the last possible minute, to go back upstairs and change her outfit. Women!

Dave gave me a cartoonish wink when he opened the front door.

“Hello, Rosie, I didn’t know you were coming round to watch the match with us today!”

I regretted telling Dave why Rosie was joining us; he was as subtle as a rhino, even when he wasn’t keeping a secret.

By the time the match kicked off, I was sitting next to Dave on the sofa, a beer in my hand. Rosie wandered through from the kitchen with a glass of white wine.

“I hear Katy is back from uni at the moment, Dave. I’ve not seen her in ages; is she around at the moment? I’d love to say hello.”

Dave remained fixated on the TV but gestured vaguely towards the garden.

“Oh, she’ll be in the home gym - just go out the back door and walk round to the garage.”

“In the gym, did you say? Is she doing some yoga, or something?” asked Rosie, innocently.

“Yoga?” Dave snorted. “No, she’ll be doing some proper exercise and lifting some weights.”

“Little Katy’s lifting weights?”

“Yeah, didn’t you see her after her growth spurt? I guess it has been a while. She grew six inches when she got to uni. Oh come on referee who are you fucking kidding that was never a yellow! Uh, yeah, so I think she got a bit self-conscious about feeling so skinny after she got taller.”

“So she started to pump some iron, did she?”

“Yeah, never thought she’d be in the gym lifting with me, but she’s taken to it like a duck to water.”

“I think I’ll leave you boys to it and go and find her.”

Unlike Dave, I couldn’t concentrate on the match. I fidgeted in my seat, watching the on-screen clock ticking, waiting for the moment when I got the grovelling apology that I was owed.

Waiting for the moment when my wife would have to confess she was just as impressed with Katy’s muscles as I had been.

Ten minutes passed, but nothing happened.

Finally, the kitchen door opened. My wife walked back in, alone. She picked her glass of wine back up and downed it.

I wasn’t even pretending to watch the game now, sitting on the edge of my seat and staring into the kitchen at my wife instead.

“Well?” I asked, as casually as I could manage. “How is she?”

“Perhaps Katy isn’t as keen on working out as you say she is? The gym was totally empty. Your garden’s looking lovely though, Dave, especially the begonias.”

Bugger the begonias! I glanced back at Dave - where was Katy? She hadn’t gone out, had she? I needed Rosie to see Katy, and to see her muscles. I wouldn’t live it down, otherwise!

“Probably upstairs, taking a shower,” shrugged Dave, unconcerned and still concentrating on the match.

“That’s a real shame,” said Rosie, pulling a sceptical face at me as she spoke. “Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll see her later?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

And then we heard the sound of someone coming downstairs.


---


I walked back into the room, trying not to let my discomfort show. My wife followed me. She knew why I was so uncomfortable.

The problem was, soon, so would everyone else.

Tentatively, I sat back down at the table and gripped Katy’s hand again.

“We good, Mr B? Yeah? Okay! 1… 2… 3!”

[brave_archer]

You're doing a hell of job building up anticipation here. Can't wait for Rosie, and us, to see Katy's new body.

[jeffbeans]

GREAT build up, knowing how good you are at writing inventive strength feats and fantastically eloquent descriptions this story is bound to be another winner! 

[JohnAubrey]

For a few seconds, I thought I’d been guilty of over-exaggerating Katy’s strength.

For all that Katy’s biceps had looked massive the last time I had seen her, it was all relative, and she was still smaller than me. Maybe my wife had been right: Katy was only a teenage girl, after all, and teenage girls are not stronger than full-grown men.

Still, if I was going to win, it would be best if I won comprehensively; somehow, a slow struggle to eventually beat a teenage girl at armwrestling felt like it would be even more embarrassing than a quick defeat - at least a quick defeat would vindicate my position and show my wife that I had been right all along.

I gave it my all and within seconds I had gained a big advantage and pushed Katy’s hand back several inches.

I was torn between disappointment and relief.

I saw my wife reach for her glass of wine and realise it was empty. She shook her head and snorted derisively as she looked back at the uneven contest.

“I’m going to get a refill. I knew you just needed a little incentive to drop the whole pointless charade. I expect you to have won by the time I get back.”

She turned around and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mr B?” said Katy, “I’ve got two questions. One: what did Mrs B mean about the incentive?”

“Erm, nothing,” I said quickly, keen to avoid the subject. “What was your other question?”

“Is that all you’ve got?”

Suddenly Katy’s arm turned to stone, her grip on my hand tightened, and I cried out in pain.

“Oh, stop being such a drama queen! Honestly, you’re fooling no one!” called my wife from the kitchen.

Katy winked at me, and then started to apply more pressure. Not that you could tell from looking at her face, which showed no sign of strain at all. Like a hot knife through butter, her forearm smoothly returned to the perpendicular and my arm was levered back.

The force Katy applied was irresistible and I was helpless as she manoeuvred herself into a winning position.

As the back of my hand approached the table, I lunged across and grabbed it with my free hand, trying to use the strength of both my arms to stop the inevitable defeat. The reality of losing had hit home, and I couldn’t face the humiliation.

It didn’t help. Katy’s progress remained serene and unstoppable. She pressed my hand firmly into the table.

“Naughty, naughty, Mr B!” she giggled. “That was cheating. I think we need to declare round one null and void and start again.”

She stopped pushing and started instead to pull my hands back up, her elbow still planted on the table. Once again I fought her with everything I had, but her one arm was still stronger than both of mine. She dragged me back to the position we had been in before my wife left the room.

My wife reentered, a full glass in her hand, and took in the image of me grimacing as my two hands clasped Katy’s one.

“Oh my god, you are such an idiot,” she said. Still, we both know what happens if you lose…”

“What happens if he loses, Mrs B?”

“No! I! Won’t! Lose!” I grunted.

 —

My wife led me into the toilet and locked the door.

“What’s going on? We were just about to start the armwrestling match. What did you mean ‘you want to make sure I'm suitably motivated and if I don’t give 100% I’m getting no sex for a month’?”

“It’s simple: I don’t trust you to play fair and beat Katy; I think you’re going to lose on purpose.”

“But how can you prove I won’t be giving 100%? And I could give 100% and lose anyway!”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

My wife started to remove her cardigan and then turned around.

“Unzip me.”

I eased down the zip on her floral summer dress and she turned to face me again, letting the dress drop to the floor.

I nearly let out a wolf whistle. Before leaving the house, my wife had changed into her sexiest, and my favourite, lingerie set.

It was black. It was lacy. It was tiny. It was positively indecent and I loved it.

She gave me a twirl. I reached out to grab her arse and give it a squeeze but she swatted my hand away.

“Oh no, first you need to lose your clothes.”

“What, really? We’re really going to do this here, in Dave’s bog?”

She pouted at me.

I was out of my clothes faster than a quick change artist.

She reached out and tickled my fully-engorged penis.

“We’re going to need to do something about this.”

“Fuck yes! If I move over here, there’s room for you to kneel in front of me.”

“I don’t think you understand: you’re not about to get lucky. I mean we need to do something about your hard-on because it is going to look ridiculous sticking out of my thong.”

“What?”

You’re going to put on my underwear, bra and thong and suspenders, and then put your clothes back on.”

“What? Why?”

“Same principle as strip poker: if you lose the first round to Katy, you lose your shirt. Lose the second round and you lose your trousers. I imagine your choice of underwear will be a talking point.”

“You’re crazy! What makes you think I’d agree to that?”

She grabbed my dick and squeezed.

“Because if you don’t agree to my terms, like I said: you’re getting no sex for a month.”

“Bullshit! This is stupid!”

She started to gently stroke my cock.

“It just became two months. Do you want it to become three? Imagine sleeping in the spare room for three months and not getting any of this…”

She gave a little shimmy and her breasts nearly jiggled out of her bra.

“Fuck! Okay, okay! Fuck!”

“Look on the bright side: at least you get to watch a little striptease now. And I’ll be so happy knowing that my big, strong husband won’t pretend to lose at armwrestling to a teenage girl that I promise you’ll get that blowjob you so desperately want when we get home. Happy?”

I wasn't happy, but I was horny, and horny always wins.

Now I just had to make sure that I won too...

[Nebulanzebulan]

Waiting for the April Fool's joke to be that we'll never find out who wins that match 😂

[Scott2920]

Wow awesome! Love the two hands vs 1

[phil123]

Can't wait to read about the match and what happens next

[jeffbeans]

Love the set up, can't wait for more 

[JohnAubrey]

I’m not sure what was more humiliating: the scornful look my wife was giving me, the way her lacy thong was chafing my balls, or the fact the teenage girl sitting opposite me was toying with me in an armwrestling match we both knew I couldn’t win.

If I was pressed for an answer I would probably say it was a three-way tie.

The smirk that Katy had been struggling to suppress was now a full-blown smile of smug superiority. Until we had first locked hands, maybe she hadn’t known how much stronger than me she actually was, and the realisation of her physical advantage had clearly gone to her head. If she had felt bad initially about the prospect of showing me up, she had certainly got over it quickly.

Katy was definitely relishing the opportunity to intimidate me.

“Are you really sure you won’t lose, Mr B?” she asked, in a mocking tone.

I gritted my teeth and held my breath as I concentrated every fibre of my being into trying to push back her hand.

“Oh, I’m sure he won’t lose,” said Rosie, firmly. “Even if he’s currently pretending otherwise.”

I could feel a vein pulsing in my forehead as I twisted my torso, hoping the extra torque might help me gain an advantage.

The bra straps were digging into me and pinching my skin. How do women cope with wearing these things? I tried to use the discomfort as extra motivation, a reminder of what that lay in store for me if I lost.

Dave swore loudly at the TV, reached for his bag of crisps and then swore again.

“Fuck! I don’t want to miss this corner - can someone grab me some more Monster Munch?”

“Are you going to wrap this up now? I don’t want to miss your victory,” said Rosie, bending over to stare meaningfully at me, her dress falling open just enough to reveal an enticing glimpse of her cleavage. “Actually, do you know what, I’ll just go - you seem to be determined to make this charade last as long as possible.”

“Fucking put someone on the near post! Pickled onion, please!” shouted Dave, as he sensed movement towards the kitchen.

Katy watched Rosie walk out of the room and then focussed her attention back on me.

“Wow, she really wants you to win... Going to try to cheat again, Mr B?”

“No. You’re. The. Cheat,” I grunted in frustration, barely able to get out the words.

“Me, a cheat?” asked Katy, sweetly. “I don’t think the fact I’m much, much stronger than you is cheating, is it? Or do you think because I’m just a teenage girl, I should stay smaller and weaker than you because you’re a man? Is that it? You think that me working out every day is cheating because I’ve built all this muscle? Months of dedication and discipline was just me cheating because now I’m stronger than you? All the 5am gym sessions, the force feeding myself protein, the progressive overload, the lifting to failure - all just me cheating? Well, if it’s that easy to cheat, why haven’t you done the same?”

She squeezed my hand tighter and I grimaced.   

“You’re starting to look really sweaty, Mr B,” she said. “Do you need something to wipe your forehead?”

With her free hand Katy pulled up the front of her hoodie and jokingly offered it to me. She laughed as I stared in amazement at her ripped abs, clearly visible even through her white cami.

“Ignore my six-pack - that’s just what happens when you cheat super-hard.”

Rosie walked back in and Katy quickly pulled her hoodie back down.

“Tell me you saw that?” I panted at Rosie as she walked past, heading towards the sofa.

“Saw what?”

“Her muscles!” I said, my voice surprisingly high, partly in indignation but also because even my vocal cords were tensed as I struggled to keep up the pressure.

Rosie simply shook her head, looking thoroughly fed up with me.

Desperate now, feeling that the only way out of my predicament was to make Rosie realise how muscular Katy actually was before she beat me, I gestured at Katy’s arm.

“Feel her!” I squeaked. “Feel her!”

“Um, bit weird, Mr B,” said Katy, her face a picture of confused innocence.

“Yes, I don’t think that’s very appropriate.”

I gave another grunt and grabbed the side of the table with my free hand, braced myself against the frame, and heaved.

The table creaked, but Katy’s arm didn’t waver.

“Are you even trying, Mr B?”

Katy ostentatiously extended her own free hand and held it over her mouth as she yawned, then looked at her watch.

“I’m heading out soon,” she said, and suddenly I felt my hand forced back.

The last few minutes had been like trying to push against a supporting wall: Katy’s arm had been completely immovable. But if I’d felt helpless then, now it was like the wall was suddenly toppling towards me and I was trying to hold it up all by myself.

In short: I was doomed.
 
Desperation turned to terror at the prospect of being beaten, and more particularly at the thought of what would happen afterwards. Panic set in. My eyes darted around the room as I looked for something - anything - that I could use to justify abandoning the match.

Maybe if I was really fortunate, a devastating electrical fire that would rip through the house and destroy half the street before it could be be controlled would break out right… about… now?

No such luck.

But at this point losing face was surely better than actually losing; the best option for me was to stop the match and walk away.

I could bluster my way through some excuses afterwards, no matter how unconvincing. My cowardice may be exposed in front of my wife, Dave and Katy but, more importantly, my body wouldn’t be.

I glanced over at Dave and Rosie: Dave was still absorbed in the match; Rosie was staring at her phone. This was my chance to bail out.
 
Without saying anything, I made an abrupt move to stand up only to find Katy’s grip on my hand was unbreakable. She raised an eyebrow and gave me a look every bit as derisive as the one my wife had given me earlier.

I tried to extend my legs and lean backwards, still trying to free my hand.

Katy said nothing and continued to stare at me, a frown of almost teacherly annoyance on her face.

Despite my best efforts, and gravity’s assistance, Katy’s elbow remained anchored to the table.

And then Katy stopped trying to push my hand towards the table and instead began to pull me back towards her, bicep curling my uncooperative body.

I stopped trying to escape and tried to remain simply standing upright, my feet scrabbling for purchase on the floor. It was hopeless; I might as well have been a lump of iron being pulled towards a magnet. The edge of the table began to press into my thighs and I started to stoop forwards like a drunk about to lose his balance.

Katy gave a sudden heave and I found myself dumped back into my chair.

I could have sworn I saw her bicep visibly bulging beneath the thick, baggy sleeve of the hoodie.

“Whatever am I going to do with you, Mr B?”

Under the table, I felt her legs coil around mine, pinning me against the chair.

I was now acutely aware of two things: firstly, that Katy’s calves were so big and hard they dug into mine, causing me physical pain. Secondly, that I had given myself a serious wedgie as I tried to escape, my wife’s thong riding right up inside me. It was an indication of how powerful Katy's legs were that the lingerie flossing my sphincter was only the second thing I noticed.

I was trapped.

“Ready to lose, Mr B?” Katy whispered.

Katy had trapped my legs, she had trapped my hand in a vice-like grip and now, as her steely-eyed gaze met mine, I realised I couldn’t even look away from her.

She had me at her mercy.

[Saxony Red Devil]

this is almost like a British sitcom, so much going on its very entertaining

[Sicod]

Awesome! 

[slim0926]

I agree, it's like a tv series, that has that wow moment that makes you so anxious to see the next episode. Great story!!