Forum Saradas
Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction => Muscular Women Fiction => Topic started by: JohnAubrey on July 19, 2021, 10:21:04 pm
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Trying out something a bit different... Hopefully more to come.
Louise hated her brother, and she hated his girlfriend too. The only good thing about their parents’ divorce, as far as she was concerned, was that her brother now lived with their dad on the other side of the country, and she only had to see Michael and Rachel if they came to stay in the school holidays.
Louise and Michael were twins, not that anyone meeting them both for the first time ever believed that. If Louise had a pound coin for every time a stranger had learnt this information and then stared in disbelief from one to the other, she would have been able to relieve the local Aldi of its entire stock of shopping trolleys.
It was always the same routine: the stranger would look from Louise, then up to Michael, then back down to Louise, now with an expression of pity. Louise had realised long ago that it was futile to point out that she was technically the older twin, having arrived in this world a few minutes before her sibling - that just made people laugh in her face. Well, generally above her face.
There was no escaping the fact that Louise was still a shrimp. Puberty had taken one look at her, decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and made discreetly for the exit. Her brother, on the other hand, was referred to by their granny as a ‘strapping young man’ and this was an impressively understated description even by her standards, which included once sending a postcard home from a holiday in France on which she had described the Palace of Versailles as ‘quite posh’.
Michael stood a foot and a half taller than his twin sister and, since discovering what a rigorous gym regimen could do to a body with an unusual capacity for growth a few years ago, was more than twice as heavy as her, bulging with improbable muscles that he was more than happy to show off at every available opportunity; if anything, the real challenge was hiding them. He was also handsome, and he knew it; he was supremely confident - or arrogant, depending on who you asked; and he was a natural athlete, who was used to winning at everything.
People looked at Michael and estimated him to be four or five years older than he actually was; conversely, people looked at Louise and scaled down, seeing an unfortunate-looking little girl who seemed far younger than she actually was. Gawky, bespectacled, acne-ridden and - worst of all, as far as Louise herself was concerned - completely flat-chested.
Michael’s girlfriend, Rachel, did not have this problem. Quite the opposite, in fact. Rachel sashayed around behind what looked like a dead-heat in a zeppelin race. She may not have been that much taller than Louise, but she was built to a different specification entirely - petite, yes, but abundantly curvy with it.
Together, Michael and Rachel were the sexiest couple in their school's sixth form - capable of giving not just their horny, hormonal peers wet dreams, but also the teaching staff as well.
Whenever they came to visit, Louise counted the days until they left, and was currently taking solace in the fact that she knew this was their final evening as guests; although if anyone had asked Louise, she would have replied that this was still not soon enough.
Michael and Rachel were currently taking up the entire sofa - Michael’s broad shoulders were popping out of his gym vest and he was taking up space enough for two or three Louises; and Rachel was lying coquettishly on her stomach next to him, kicking her legs in the air, the underside of her peachy, round bottom jiggling slightly in her too-short shorts every time her shins whacked into the armrest.
Louise sat awkwardly in an uncomfortable wicker chair off to the side of the room. She couldn’t see the TV clearly from there, but she did have a clear line of sight to Michael and Rachel, so she had plenty of opportunity to glare at them resentfully.
Louise hated her brother, and she hated his girlfriend too, because they were hot and she was not. And every time they came to stay, they seemed to have got hotter, which just compounded the fact that she hadn’t changed at all.
As far as Louise was concerned, Michael and Rachel had all the worst of the accompanying attributes so often found in the beautiful - they were narcissistic, selfish, and cruel.
Louise hated her brother, and she hated his girlfriend too.
Later that evening, Louise put down her book and realised she’d forgotten to brush her teeth before bed. As she headed for the bathroom she heard a rhythmic noise. Something on TV, perhaps? What was it? Intrigued, Louise edged along the corridor, towards Michael’s room. The bedroom door was open and Louise could clearly see the two naked figures inside. Rachel lay on her back across the bed, her head dangling over the edge; Michael currently held her head in both hands, the better to repeatedly thrust his giant erection deep into her open mouth and down her throat.
Glorp. Glorp. Glorp.
A mixture of saliva and semen was leaking from Rachel’s mouth and running down her face and into her nose.
Glorp. Glorp. Glorp.
Louise’s mouth was dry. She had never seen anything like this before; sex was a closed book to her - closed, placed on a high shelf and stored far out of sight up in the stacks.
‘Is this how my brother treats Rachel?’ Louise thought.
Glorp. Glorp. Glorp.
‘Why is she letting him do this to her? Can she even be enjoying this?’
Glorp. Glorp. Glorp.
‘This is so disgusting!’
Michael let go of Rachel’s head with one hand and half-turned, causing Louise to start back, in case he had somehow sensed her presence, but he was just admiring himself in the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. He flexed a chiselled bicep and admired himself as he carried on face-fucking his girfriend.
Glorp. Glorp. Glorp.
“Oh yeah, babe! Do you know how lucky you are? That’s it; suck my big cock! Swallow it all!”
He grabbed Rachel’s head with both hands again, and pulled it violently towards him, until her chin was smashed into his pubis and could go no further. He held her there. Rachel’s eyes bulged and rolled back into her head. Louise became convinced Rachel was choking - her body was starting to stiffen and convulse - but if he knew what was happening to her, Michael seemed unconcerned.
Just as Louise started to think she might have to run into the room to save her, Rachel started to bang her fists on Michael’s hips. He finally got the message. He released her head, and took a step back. Rachel’s chest heaved and undulated as she made noises like a dying fish. Michael stepped forward again and started to whack Rachel in her flushed face with his glistening boner, first one cheek, then the other.
Rachel’s breathing became more normal, and she started giggling. Her mascara had started to run, moistened by tears, saliva or semen, Louise couldn’t tell.
“Oh my god, baby, that was so hot! You are such a stud.”
Michael started flexing his abs, checking himself out again. He stepped closer to the mirror. Suddenly Louise realised there was now a clear line of sight between herself and Rachel. Their eyes locked. Rachel rolled onto her front and gave Louise a blissful grin. She blew her a kiss, and with it a big cummy bubble, which grew bigger and bigger.
Pop!
Louise ran back down the corridor, the sound of Rachel’s scornful giggling echoing in her ears.
The following day, Louise managed to come up with an excuse to leave the house early and avoid seeing Michael and Rachel leave. She was confused and ashamed by what she had witnessed, her sexual inexperience brought home in the most explicit, humiliating manner she could imagine. She felt small and stupid and alone, and she hated her brother and his girlfriend all the more for making her feel that way.
That night she felt in the mood for some comfort viewing, pulled an old favourite DVD off the shelf, and fell asleep watching Freaky Friday.
The next morning, as Louise started to wake up, yawning and stretching, she felt different, almost sluggish. Was she ill? No, that wasn’t it; it was something else. Her body moved in an unfamiliar manner. Was she… bigger? Heavier? And was there someone in bed with her? What was going on?
Louise panicked, scrabbled across the mattress and threw back the bedclothes to see who was lying next to her. As she twisted her body and rolled onto her side a huge penis whipped through the air like the arm of a trebuchet firing a projectile.
It was hers.
Her penis smacked into the prone body next to her.
“Mmmhh… Morning, baby… I love it when you wake me up like that.”
The figure next to her yawned and stretched. Still trying to comprehend exactly what was going on, Louise took a while to realise she was looking at Rachel, who was now snuggling up against her and craning her neck to deliver a kiss to her lips.
Louise moved to grab Rachel’s shoulder and pull her away, but became transfixed by the sight of her own arm bunching up with bulging muscles. As Louise stared at her bicep, Rachel started to caress it, kissing it, licking it, pulling herself even closer to Louise until her soft, jiggling breasts smooshed into Louise’s slab-like pecs.
“Mmmh, yeah, that’s my muscle stud,” Rachel moaned.
Louise pulled away and sat up, dragging Rachel, still draped over her arm, with her. She looked in the mirror at her reflection and saw…
… Michael? She was Michael? She was Michael! How was she Michael?
She scrambled off the bed, but Rachel had locked her arms and legs around her. Before she even realised what she was doing, Louise had stood up, taking Rachel with her. She was shocked to realise the little minx felt like she weighed almost nothing.
Rachel was purring with excitement now, nuzzling Louise’s neck and bucking her hips to grind her wet little pussy against Louise’s eight-pack abs. Freaking out, Louise grabbed hold of Rachel, turned and flung her easily back onto the bed. Rachel screamed in excitement.
“Oh, you know I love it rough, baby!”
Nimble as a monkey, she was back on her feet in seconds, jumping across the bed and then back into Louise’s embrace, grabbing hold of her beefy arms, manoeuvring her hips until, with a start, Louise realised that her penis - her penis! - over which she apparently had no control, had grown long and hard and had slipped inside Rachel.
Rachel felt warm and soft and moist, and better than anything Louise had ever experienced before.
“Mmmmh!”
Overwhelmed, her synapses firing with more information than they could handle, Louise stood unmoving, for all the world looking like a finely chiselled statue of a Greek hero, easily bearing the weight of the nymphet sexpot who was now enthusiastically bouncing up and down on her erection, which Louise could feel throbbing like a twisted ankle.
In time, Rachel’s breathing changed, her breaths coming quicker and shallower, and her movements became slower, but more deliberate, arching her back to slip along the length of Louise’s hard cock, and then thrusting herself back down on it, impaling herself.
“Mmmmh! Oh, baby! Yes, baby!”
Louise felt like an electric current was running through her, like she was Frankenstein’s monster becoming alive, truly alive, for the first time. Not only did she feel more amazing than she ever had done before, it was clear that whatever she was doing was making Rachel feel incredible - unashamedly, audibly, pornographically incredible - as well; and skipping countless inexpert, disappointing teenage fumblings and fast-forwarding to an earth-shattering perfectly synchronised mutual climax was a transcendental experience for Louise.
She had a sudden hunger, a carnal craving, for Rachel and her body. Louise slipped the large hands over which she now had control under Rachel’s bum, massaging the pliant, round cheeks, squeezing them ever more firmly, enjoying the way they tightened as Rachel contracted her body to pull herself back up to the tip of Louise’s cock, before sliding back down it, slick and slippery with their juices.
Louise gave an extra squeeze, pulling Rachel down to the very bottom of her shaft and holding her there, skewered and quivering, moaning in ecstasy.
Louise felt like a dam about to burst. Her legs began to shake. The butterflies in her tummy were migrating, taking flight en masse. She had never given much thought to what her first orgasm would be like but, it’s fair to say, she had never in a million years expected it to be like this.
As Louise exploded with hot pleasure, Rachel screamed her name. Well, almost.
“Oh, Miiiiiiiichael! Yes! Yeeeeesssss!”
The next thing Louise knew, she was lying on her back on the bed in a post-coital haze, with Rachel draped over her, kissing her neck and stroking her left nipple.
“Are you excited, baby? Today’s the day!” giggled Rachel.
“The day? The day for what?” Louise murmured, blissfully.
“Have you forgotten? Today’s the day you promised to take me to the gym with you and show me how to work out!”
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Real funny story...hope it will continue
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Very interesting premise, with a good flow. Not bad for an introduction. Keep up the nice work.
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Very different start and interesting approach. Louise is gonna have fun. K+!
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Wow, I'm really loving this. Keep it up!
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I'd actually forgotten that I'd posted this!
I enjoyed writing it, and I did have a second chapter drafted out along with a vague notion of where the story might go after that, so watch this space...
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Excited for this update...thank you so much k++
I'd actually forgotten that I'd posted this!
I enjoyed writing it, and I did have a second chapter drafted out along with a vague notion of where the story might go after that, so watch this space...
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Hope in new chapter
Excited for this update...thank you so much k++
I'd actually forgotten that I'd posted this!
I enjoyed writing it, and I did have a second chapter drafted out along with a vague notion of where the story might go after that, so watch this space...
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Looking forward to it.
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Hope for more and what happens in the gym.
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Chapter 2.1 (Hopefully 2.2 to arrive shortly)
Louise watched as Rachel stood on her tiptoes to talk to the man behind the front desk at the gym. Like everyone else in the foyer she couldn’t help but notice how, as Rachel rocked back from the balls of her feet and her heels hit the ground, her round, peachy bottom bounced irresistibly underneath her leggings.
Louise may have seen Rachel totally naked within the last hour, but that casual jiggle was an open invitation to anyone watching to start undressing Rachel with their eyes and, like every other man in the area, Louise couldn't help but RSVP.
It was all too easy to picture Louise’s thong being gobbled up between her voluptuous cheeks.
Louise felt it start to get hard again.
Oh god, what was she becoming?
This was the question that had been quietly nagging away at Louise that morning: what was she becoming?
And that was weird, because she was also dimly aware that really the question she should have been fixated on was: what had she become?
Louise had barely stopped to think about how she had ended up switching bodies with her twin brother. Normally an academic, inquisitive girl - some would say a girly swot, or a teacher’s pet, or perhaps just a nerdy loser - she appeared to be experiencing a unique phenomenon, something that was normally the realm of science fiction or fantasy, and she had accepted it without question.
Somehow she had adapted to her new body easily, all too easily.
And she had been enjoying it, perhaps too much; she had certainly been enjoying it too much to spend much time wondering about what had happened.
It was almost as if her new body had begun to control her thoughts, rather than the other way round - and her behaviour was changing as a result.
Take this morning…
Louise hadn’t asked what she had become as she sprawled on the bed in a post-coital haze, her flaccid penis still big enough to reach her navel, recovering from her first ever orgasm.
Nor when Rachel had returned from the shower and started towelling herself off, her full, perky breasts swaying in a beguiling manner that immediately drew Louise’s attention. Suddenly, the monster between her legs was rearing its head again, and - without even thinking about it - she was stroking the substantial new addition to her body as it thickened.
Rachel, noticing what Louise was doing, bit her lip seductively and ran the fingertips of her right hand down her cleavage, down her smooth stomach, to gently rub the lips of her pussy.
“Do I turn you on, baby? Me standing here, all wet and dripping? Well, all your big muscles make me even wetter.”
Rachel dropped the towel and knelt by the edge of the bed in the space between Louise’s dangling legs. She waited there expectantly, like a puppy anticipating a treat for good behaviour. Louise sat up and, as if this was a signal, Rachel wrapped both of her small, manicured hands around Louise’s erection, which towered over her head like a phallic gnomon.
“Mmh… SO big, and all for me.”
Louise watched, mesmerised, as Rachel slowly licked the length of her shaft from base to oozing tip; she felt her penis twitch and somehow grow even harder. Rachel swirled her tongue around the end, all the while looking deep into Louise’s eyes.
She hadn’t asked what she had become when she felt unable to resist and grabbed Rachel’s head, forcing her cock into that pretty little mouth, stretching those pouty lips, some impulse causing her to thrust Rachel’s head down and up and down and up again and again and again and again, punishing her perfect face, not caring if she hurt her, only wanting to spurt hot gobbets of cum all over her, to mark her territory like she was an animal.
Louise expected Rachel to resist, perhaps to cry, even eventually to beg for mercy, but Rachel sucked her cock like it was a Calippo on a hot day, never once breaking eye contact, staring up at her, adoringly, for the duration.
Neither had Louise asked what she had become as she walked to the gym later that morning, her gait unthinkingly becoming a arrogant swagger, her sleeveless T-shirt doing nothing to hide her bulging muscles, the unmistakable outline of her huge flaccid penis easily visible through her grey joggers as it audibly slapped against her thigh with every step.
Every woman she walked past stared at her thirstily, some of them blatantly open-mouthed in aroused wonderment. Every man she walked past looked at her enviously, some of them even fearfully.
Louise felt like she could choose to flirt or fight with anyone, like she could utter a simple chat-up line or a casual threat that - in either scenario - would be so devastatingly effective that it would make the recipient need to go home for a change of underwear.
She felt like a big, strong winner, and she was loving it.
But what was she becoming? That was the question that was bothering her now. As much as Louise was enjoying the hung, hulking body she was in, she was aware that she wasn’t thinking or acting like herself.
She was a shy girl; prim and proper. She was quiet and she was considerate. She was - not altogether by choice - chaste. Why could she only think about fucking and fighting now?
Was all this muscle actually starting to shape the way she thought? Was her porn star penis affecting how she behaved?
Louise was worried that although she still had control of her mind in her brother’s body, the body was somehow taking over.
She was worried, for example, that she was becoming dumber, just a meathead like Michael.
She cringed to think about how long she had stared at her brother’s phone that morning, wondering how she was going to unlock it, before she realised his fingerprints were now her fingerprints and a simple tap on the sensor would be all it took to get in.
And this big, muscular body was making her so horny all the time, like an animal in rutting season. One look at Rachel was enough to get her blood pumping and her cock hardening.
And her feelings towards Rachel had changed too... She hated Rachel. Or at least, she used to hate Rachel, the conceited, shallow, beautiful bitch. But now none of that seemed to matter. Now all she could think about was bending Rachel over the gym's reception desk and fucking her in front of everyone until they both got friction burns.
A tent started to form in the front of Louise's joggers. She was going to have to excuse herself...
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Chapter 2.2 - Enjoy!
Louise muttered that she was going to the toilet as a pretext for a ménage à moi to deal with the pressure that was building in her boxers but, as she wandered off down a corridor, the man behind the front desk called her back.
“Hey bro, the gents are that way,” he said, pointing in the opposite direction.
“Oh yeah, I knew that…” mumbled a chastened Louise, her bubble bursting as her attempt to bluff her way round the gym fell at the first hurdle.
Whatever her fears about Michael's body taking over, Louise's nervous personality reasserted itself. What had she been thinking, agreeing to show Rachel how to work out? How was she going to pull this off?
Initially she had thought it would be easy. How hard could picking stuff up and putting it back down be? If her idiot of a brother could manage it, the answer was surely: not very. And once she had eventually unlocked her brother’s phone, it had seemed like an even more straightforward prospect.
For starters she had been able to use it to establish where the gym actually was, which was not a problem that had even occurred to her until that moment. And then she found that Michael’s phone was full of notes outlining exhaustive meal plans and exercise routines, and she had convinced herself that she could use these to bluff her way through the process.
It was funny: here she was thinking of her brother as stupid, but actually all these notes and calculations, detailed and scrupulous, reflected well on his organisation and maths skills. He certainly had a lot more knowledge about working out than she did.
The dunce had only got a E in his maths GCSE though, she thought smugly; she had got an A*, of course.
Judging by all the bookmarked porn videos Louise had found on Michael’s phone, he really should have got a higher mark in Biology too. Louise had only had time to quickly glance at a few of them, but she had already learnt several new things about the human body.
Louise started to daydream about putting some of these new principles into practice. Absorbed in her thoughts of what she was going to do to Rachel later when they were back home, Louise didn’t notice the woman walking towards her from the opposite end of the corridor until they were within touching distance.
When she looked up, she forgot she was in Michael’s hulking body and became easily-flustered little Louise again, because this woman looked angry, and she was heading straight for her.
The woman clearly worked at the gym, because she was wearing a lifeguard’s swimming costume with the gym’s logo on it - but if the outfit didn’t give it away, her amazing body did: she had a tall, athletic physique, all broad shoulders and long, powerful limbs.
Louise opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything the woman grabbed hold of Louise’s sizable semi and started to walk backwards into a supply cupboard, leading a helpless Louise after her, the door swinging shut behind them.
Wordlessly, the woman ripped down Louise’s joggers and boxers and started to jack Louise’s growing erection. With her other hand, she grabbed the back of Louise’s head and pulled her into a passionate kiss.
Louise could feel the woman’s power, and she was taken aback by it. Granted, with all of Michael’s muscle, this woman’s strength did not match her own, but this woman was incredibly strong and she was fierce. Compared to the compliant, submissive Rachel, this woman’s confidence and no-nonsense attitude was a whole new experience for Louise.
The woman broke off the kiss and moved back slightly, but kept her hold on the back of Louise’s head - Louise could see the woman’s bicep peak bulging as she kept up the tension, letting Louise know she was going nowhere. Not that Louise wanted to go anywhere. For what must have been the sixth time that morning her cock felt like it had grown harder than it had ever been before.
The woman released her grip on Louise’s neck to reach down and pull aside the crotch of her swimming costume; then she unceremoniously rammed the full length of Louise’s erection inside her, leaning back to rest her hands on a shelf edge and thrusting her crotch forwards, pressing hard into Louise, gymnastically wrapping her powerful legs around Louise’s waist.
Louise was immediately distracted by the sight of this woman’s triceps bulging as she leant back on the shelf, her straightened arms taking most of her weight; and then she noticed the woman’s abs, clearly visible through her tight swimming costume, her six-pack a sleek, symmetrical and undeniably sexy symbol of power.
Who knew muscle looked so good on a woman?
Louise could feel the woman’s heels digging into her back as she bent her legs at the knees in an attempt to force Louise even further inside her. Louise yielded to the pressure, a little gingerly at first, fearing a hard thrust would cause the woman’s arms to collapse, but it quickly became clear the woman’s strength and stamina were equal to the task. Louise quickly forgot any reticence and, taking her cue from the woman’s eager prompting, started to thrust with wild abandon.
Unlike Rachel, this woman didn’t moan and squeal as she got pounded, she just panted like an athlete pushing herself to her physical limit.
Objects started to fall from the shaking shelves, but still they fucked. Dr Meinheimer could have been sitting next to them, bowling balls bouncing off his head, and still they would have fucked. Louise was lost in the throes of passion, could feel herself letting go, her orgasm getting closer, when suddenly the woman spoke for the first time…
“NO. You don’t get to cum yet!”
As far as Louise was concerned it was too late for that, and she continued her frenzied pounding until, to her amazement, the woman tightened the grip of her legs around Louise’s waist, let go of the shelf and, with the strength of her core muscles alone, performed a mid-air sit-up, bringing them eye to eye.
She slapped Louise hard across the face.
“I said ‘you don’t get to cum yet,’” she growled.
She reclined a little again, relying on that same incredible abdominal strength to hold herself up, their respective torsos now at a 45 degree angle to each other.
Lowering herself slightly, and reaching down and around, the woman grabbed Louise’s balls and squeezed.
The pain was unbearable; Louise’s legs almost gave way.
“That slutty little fuckdoll has ruined your stamina. You come when I say so, and not before. Do you understand?”
Louise could only whimper in reply.
“Good boy.”
The woman released her grip, tossed her tumbling raven-black curls back, and maintained her improbable position, starting to buck her hips in exquisitely controlled slow-motion. The pressure on Louise’s erection, buried deep inside this woman, and experiencing new, previously unknown forces exerted internally by the flexing of the woman’s iron-banded abdominal muscles, was almost unbearable.
And yet sheer astonishment at what she was seeing made Louise forget all about the inevitability of her orgasm.
The woman reached forward and stroked Louise’s meaty chest.
“Mmh, has someone been working on their upper pectorals? Very nice! I’ve been working on my core strength and playing around with heavier decline weighted crunches. Maybe you’ve noticed?”
At this the woman began to gradually lean further back until her body was sloping towards the ground, causing Louise to lean forward slightly as her painfully erect penis was pulled along for the ride; then the woman smoothly raised herself back up until she was once more face to face with Louise.
And then she did it again, and again, and…
After the tenth easy repetition, still showing no signs of strain, she stopped and smirked at Louise, raising a sardonic eyebrow. Louise had no idea that such a self-satisfied facial expression could be so sexy, but the woman’s arrogance and preening superiority urgently reminded her that she was about to blow.
“Poor little baby looks like he’s going to explode,” the woman said, mockingly.
She lunged forward for another kiss and wrapped her tongue around Louise’s, seemingly trying to wrestle it into submission. Then she bit Louise’s lip and pulled away. Louise’s eyes watered as the woman drew blood.
“Fuck me now. Fuck me hard.”
It was another invitation Louise couldn’t refuse and she could only comply enthusiastically. Her shuddering orgasm, when it arrived, was strong enough to bring her to her knees.
The woman dismounted, gracefully kicked her right leg over Louise’s left shoulder, and buried Louise’s face in her dripping pussy.
“Lick me clean. And until you ditch the bitch, this is the last time you get to enjoy my company.”
“Whut?” came the muffled reply.
“Don’t act stupid. You told me you’d dump Tits McGee by now. You don’t get to taste me again until she’s gone, so make it count.”
“But I don’t…”
Louise never got the chance to finish her sentence. In another unexpectedly balletic move, the woman swung her other leg over Louise’s right shoulder and squeezed her rock-solid thighs together. By the time Louise realised her windpipe was constricted and her supply of oxygen was cut off, she was too unprepared and overwhelmed to fight back.
Louise saw stars, and then she saw black.
Fifteen minutes later, Louise hobbled into the men’s changing rooms, head spinning, neck aching, feeling like she’d just provided the all-you-can-eat buffet at a succubus convention.
She collapsed onto a bench. A bald-headed man, apparently wider than he was tall, sidled up to her and dropped a plastic bag at her feet.
“What?” asked Louise, weakly.
“As promised, mate.”
“What… what are you talking about?”
“Bought and paid for. Just like we discussed, mate. You remember? You’re only going to get so big when you’re natty, right?”
A few other gym-goers wandered into the room and the man, despite his bulk, slipped away as quickly and quietly as he had arrived.
Louise cradled her head in her hands. Half an hour ago she had been the king of the world. Now she felt like she’d come off worst in an argument with the guillotine.
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Wow, unbelievable story line, a great twist on Freaky Friday............can't wait to see where it goes from her! Karma to you!! K+++++
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Bump, hope there's more!!
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I really didn't think the premise would work, but this is really good!
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Definitely more to come, but not sure when that will be yet.
I'm torn between continuing to follow Louise and Rachel or finding out what's been happening to Michael, so I've got two half-finished chapters on the go at the moment.
I'll just have to see which draft get finished first!
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Chapter 2.3
Louise walked into the gym, the look-at-me swagger instinctively adopted by her new physique belying her inner state of nervous turmoil. The weird reailty that she was trapped in her brother’s body had been temporarily forgotten, and even the recent expansion of her sexual horizons was far from her mind. All she could think about was the contents of the plastic bag which she had just hastily, guiltily, stuffed into a locker.
The bag had been full of tablets and phials and bottles and needles, and she had stared at them in blank incomprehension until realisation had dawned.
Drugs! Lots of drugs! Michael was taking drugs!
Or to be more precise, from what she had been able to infer from the dealer’s gnomic mutterings, Michael had been planning to start taking drugs to grow even bigger. But given the current situation, she told herself, that was absolutely out of the question for as long as she was in control of Michael’s body.
She caught sight of herself in a mirror as she walked past. It wasn’t like Michael needed any more muscle anyway, she thought. Where on earth would it even go? Every movement she made caused something to bulge or ripple, some muscle or other jostling its neighbours for room. The shorts she had quickly changed into - to avoid her sticky, stained underwear and joggers drawing attention - were borderline indecent because of all that brawn, stretched to capacity by her oaken thighs, not to mention her third leg.
A group of women leaving a spin class had all simultaneously stopped in their tracks when they had seen her making her way across the foyer wearing those shorts; several of them had needed a sit down to recover; two of them would later drag their husbands into bed as soon as they got home; and one would spend considerably longer in the changing room shower afterwards than was required to simply get clean.
Ordinarily Louise would have gone out of her way to avoid attracting attention, but her mind was on other things right now, because she, who always read the possible list of side effects whenever she took a Lemsip, was panicking. What was she going to do? What if someone had seen her with the drugs? What if they checked her locker? Unless the mystery man was an eccentric travelling pharmacist, there were a lot of presumably illegal substancess in that bag - were there enough for her to be charged with possession with intent to supply?
She hesitated at the threshold of the free weights area. Maybe she should just leave immediately? Run away, discreetly drop the key to the locker down a drain a few streets away and just never come back? That way there would be nothing to link her to the drugs. After all, what was she even doing here, in this gym, humouring this perfect, pouty little princess whom she hated? She didn’t want to waste her time ‘pumping iron (and even as she thought those words she mentally inserted inverted commas around them)’. She certainly didn’t want to help Rachel. In fact, why should she even give Rachel the courtesy of letting her know she was leaving? Why not just do as she had been told and ‘ditch the bitch’? Why keep up this ridiculous charade any longer?
Louise made up her mind. She turned to leave. And then she saw Rachel, standing in the corner of the gym. Standing, and talking to a man. Louise stopped and stared. She recognised the man from the gym car park, where he had been climbing out of an expensive-looking red sports car at the same time as she and Rachel had arrived. He was earnestly mansplaining and talking with a decidedly boastful air, gesturing at the rack of dumbbells next to him.
As Rachel listened to his monologue she was coyly twirling her pigtails around with her fingers, the crooks of her arms squeezing her breasts together, making her abundant cleavage even more pronounced. As Louise watched, Rachel tilted her head to one side and giggled at something the man said.
Even before today, Louise, romantically inexpert as she had been, would have recognised this as blatantly flirtatious behaviour.
Louise realised her fists were clenched and her teeth were gritted. All thoughts of leaving the gym forgotten now, she started to stalk towards Rachel and the mystery man. He was much older than her, clearly middle-aged, with salt-and-pepper hair, but handsome and in good shape. He picked up a couple of dumbbells and started to curl them; after a couple of repetitions he paused and seemed to be encouraging Rachel to feel his arm. Rachel lifted her hand.
“Hey, babe,” Louise blurted out, “been looking for you.”
Rachel turned and Louise grabbed her arse with both hands, squeezed it harder than was strictly necessary, and lifted a squealing Rachel off her feet, pulling her in for a long, sloppy kiss.
“There you are, baby,” Louise squeaked breathlessly once the snog had run its course, her face a picture of concerned innocence. “You were gone so long the nice man was helping me because I didn’t know how much weight I should be using.”
“Oh yeah?” said Louise, gruffly, depositing Rachel and turning to the man. “How much you lifting?”
Clearly embarrassed to have found himself in this situation, and doubtless feeling suddenly shrimpy next to the teenage hulk beside him, the man cleared his throat.
“Erm, 35 pounds.”
“He was just telling me that only big, strong men like him can lift weights that big,” said Rachel.
“Oh, well, that’s not really, no, I wouldn’t say that…” the man muttered, nervous now as he eyed Michael’s massive body.
“Only 35 pounds?” Louise sneered.
Without stopping to think about what she was doing, Louise reached for another set of dumbbells on the rack, twice the weight of the ones currently held by the man. She had no idea how much Michael usually curled, and wasn’t even sure if she’d be able to pick them up at all - but the important thing now was to humiliate this interloper.
No way was anyone else going to impress her girl with their muscles, not if she had anything to do with it.
The weights came up off the rack without too much problem.
“After you,” Louise said to the man, hoping to spur him into action so she could copy his technique.
Meekly, the man resumed his exercise, the dumbbells in his hands looking comically small compared to the ones Louise started to curl. The weights were by no means easy to lift, Louise discovered, but they weren’t impossible either. It was a tough challenge, but a satisfying one.
Intimidated, the man decided to save some face by doing as many quick curls as possible, his technique becoming sloppier. Louise didn’t bother to try to keep pace with him because she was maintaining a steady rhythm of her own, raising her bigger weights as quickly as he lifted his, but lowering them with more control, enjoying the spreading warmth that was starting to light up her arms.
Louise’s muscles may have just started to burn but, next to her, the man had overtaxed himself and had nothing left to give. Louise was fatigued too, but watching his failure spurred her on; she redoubled her efforts and started grunting loudly as she fought to squeeze out more strictly controlled reps.
Rachel suddenly appeared, as if from nowhere, and Louise realised that she had been standing behind her, her petite frame invisible in the mirror, completely dwarfed by her own massive bulk. The sexy blonde was wide-eyed with wonder, and started to stroke Louise’s bulging biceps, positively purring with excitement as Louise grunted her way through more reps.
“Oh, yes, baby, yes; you’re an animal, baby. Growl for me like a big, scary beast.”
With her final rep, Louise had a moment of clarity: each of the dumbbells she was curling weighed as much as her regular scrawny little body did.
Michael was ridiculously strong, she thought. No, fuck that: she was ridiculously strong. Stronger than she had ever realised it was possible for a person to be. Twice as strong as the fully-grown man standing next to her, if not stronger. Strong enough to get the hottest girl in the gym so turned on that she was literally licking her lips as she caressed her muscles, unashamedly pressing her crotch against her thigh and rubbing her big, round tits across her side in an act of intimate physical contact more usually seen in a nightclub than a gym.
Louise dropped the weights on the floor, where they landed with such loud bangs that several people turned to look in their direction to find the source of the disturbance; they were presented with the sight of a shame-faced man slinking away from a pulchritudinous teenage couple playing a vigorous game of tonsil-hockey, the voluptuous vixen cradled in the chiselled Adonis’ powerful arms as if she weighed nothing at all.
Rachel finally broke off the kiss, panting heavily, her erect nipples clearly visible even through her reinforced sports bra.
“Oh my god, baby, that was so hot. Your muscles are so powerful and sexy! I want that too. Show me how to lift; show me how to get strong!”
Rachel ran her hand down Louise’s torso, slowly walking two fingers down the cut abdominals in Louise’s eight-pack like they were moving from stepping stone to stepping stone. Her hand lingered by Louise’s waistband, then slipped lower, deftly unzipping the fly of Louise’s shorts.
At that moment, Louise realised she couldn't refuse anything Rachel asked of her, but she was still curious to know more.
“Why?” she asked.
“What do you mean, baby?” murmured Rachel, starting to nibble on Louise’s earlobe.
“Why do you want to get stronger?”
“It’s a girl thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“Well… I’m the hottest girl in school, right?”
Rachel’s fingers slipped into Louise’s shorts; Louise’s mouth had gone dry and she only managed to nod in agreement.
“I’ve been hotter than every other girl I know since, like, third form. But more and more girls are cheating and are going to the gym to make themselves stronger and sexier. I don’t like that, baby; it’s not fair.”
Rachel gently squeezed Louise’s shaft.
“Do you remember skinny little Aisling, my old neighbour? I saw her the other day. She’s been living in the gym for the last two years and you should see her now, baby; she’s got a squat booty and it’s so big and so round and so firm you'd forget she's got no tits.”
Rachel’s nimble fingers eased their way down to tickle Louise’s balls.
It’s the same with other basic girls, too; I bet even your pathetic sister would look better if she started to work out. Imagine if she became a buff gym girl! How embarrassing would that be, your scrawny little nerd of a sister looking hotter than your girlfriend!”
Rachel giggled, scornfully.
“I mean, can you imagine?”
Something snapped inside Louise.
“So you want to build some muscle, huh? Yeah, I can definitely help with that. Where do you want to start, babe?”
If Rachel noticed the icy edge that had crept into Louise’s tone, she gave no indication.
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Hot chapter! But I'd also love to see how Michael's doing in his sister's body.
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Hot chapter! But I'd also love to see how Michael's doing in his sister's body.
Thanks! That's coming next. But first: a bit more action from the gym...
Chapter 2.4
“That,” Rachel said, decisively. “I want to try that.”
She was pointing at the bench press. Louise carried her over and lowered her onto the bench.
“How much weight do you think I should start with?” Rachel asked, excitedly.
Louise’s mind raced as she tried to bring to mind some relevant calculations from amongst Michael’s phone notes.
“The bar’s heavy, babe; you should try just that first and see how you do.”
“Will you - what do they call it again? - spot me like I’m lifting a big weight for real?” Rachel asked, cutely.
“Sure.”
Rachel lay down on the bench and got comfortable as Louise surreptitiously looked around, checking out how other people were assisting their gym partners. Taking her cue from them, she stood at the end of the bench, wrapped her hands around the bar and lifted it from the stand, ready to let Rachel take the weight.
Then she looked up and saw the crazy muscle babe heading in their direction. She gulped. Unheeded, Rachel reached up and gripped the bar.
The woman was still wearing only her lifeguard swimming costume - apparently the fact she worked there meant no one had told her that she didn’t meet the dress code. Or perhaps her colleagues were too scared of her to point out this violation lest she violate them.
She stopped directly opposite Louise, but still several feet away, and busied herself loading extra weight plates onto a barbell sitting on the floor. With every movement the woman made, Louise could see muscles in her legs, her bum, her back, her shoulders and her arms twitching and popping.
Rachel noticed that Louise was getting hard.
“Ooh, is that for me, baby? You like it when I’m down here, don’t you? Or maybe… maybe you like watching me work out?”
Louise was totally preoccupied with staring at the woman, who had turned around, lowered herself to the floor and was now almost recumbent, sliding her legs under the bar until it rested above her hips, and pressing her shoulders back against a bench, adjusting her position until she seemed satisfied that she was comfortable.
Louise didn’t hear what Rachel said, and didn’t notice her wriggling up the bench until her head cleared the end, the better to get close to Louise’s crotch.
The woman looked straight at Louise now, maintaining an unblinking eye contact, and then slowly spread her legs in a manner that was inviting but also very definitely dangerous, like she was setting a deadly trap and already relishing the thought that it would be sprung before too long. And then she thrust her hips upwards, easily raising the bar even though it was loaded with so much weight Louise expected it to bow under the pressure.
Louise’s erection grew so hard so fast that it jumped out of her unzipped shorts like an alien chestburster from a rib cage and forced itself straight into Rachel’s open mouth. Anyone less gifted at giving head would have gagged and choked but Rachel instinctively deepthroated the unexpected item in the tea-bagging area, closed her eyes and started sucking.
After all, to coin a phrase, one should never look at a gift of horse-cock in the mouth.
The woman’s display of strength and Rachel’s inhalation of her erection presented Louise with a combination of visual and sensory stimuli that made her forget all about supporting the bar for Rachel; she let go to grab hold of the spotter stands, trying to brace her body in an attempt to maintain control of her arousal. Rachel’s arms wavered as she struggled to bear the unexpected weight by herself, and then collapsed onto her chest.
Louise was oblivious to the fact that Rachel was now pinned under the bar, mesmerised by watching the rippling muscles in the same thighs that had strangled her not half an hour ago, and by the way the woman was aggressively thrusting her pussy in Louise’s direction, again and again and again.
Louise started to thrust her own hips in time with the woman…
Glorp.
And even though they were separated by an expanse of gym floor and indeed by Rachel herself…
Glorp.
So electric was the frisson between them that, to Louise, it felt like they had an actual physical connection…
Glorp.
Like they were actually fucking, just the two of them alone in the gym…
Glorp.
Everyone else had ceased to exist…
Glorp.
And Louise didn’t notice Rachel’s legs kicking wildly, or her fingers clawing at the bar…
Glorp.
And Louise was oblivious of Rachel’s muffled attempts to cry for help.
Glorp.
Louise closed her eyes as she recognised the now-familiar tingling feeling that made it clear that her engorged penis was seconds from ejaculating, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Glorp-glurg-glurg-glurg-gleurgh.
Louise lost herself in the sensation of the orgasm, and when she opened her eyes she found that the woman was straddling both the bench and Rachel’s body, and standing right in front of her. She pointed down.
Gleuuuuuurh.
A torrent of semen and drool was running from Rachel’s mouth, down her face and onto the floor.
Gleuuuuuurgh.
The woman beckoned Louise closer with a forefinger and Louise leaned towards her until they were almost nose to nose.
Gleuuuuuuuuurgh.
“I just turned you on so much without even touching you that you nearly choked your little bitch girlfriend to death with your monster-cock. Face it: you’re too much man for her to handle. Me, on the other hand…”
With a wink at Louise, she reached down and grabbed the bar from Rachel’s spasming chest, the blonde’s generous breasts threatening to jiggle free from her sports bra, and proceeded to curl the weight a dozen times before reracking it.
Louise stared down at an obviously distressed Rachel with a sudden feeling of horror, quickly pulled herself out of Rachel’s mouth and was relieved to hear her coughing and spluttering. At least she was still alive.
She glanced up to find the woman was already walking away, cool, calm and casual, her strength and confidence writ large in the way her body prowled across the gym. But then she stopped and looked back over her shoulder, flexed an impressive bicep and blew Louise a kiss over the top of the muscle peak.
Rachel was still wheezing and drooling. Louise stared back down at her and opened her mouth to ask her if she was okay - but instead she was shocked to hear herself saying:
“If you want to get stronger, you need to push yourself harder. That was pathetic. Let’s try that again.”
-
Chapter 3.1
Michael woke up feeling debilitated, as indolent as a depressed sloth. Something seemed to have sapped him of his strength, as if he were suffering from the flu, but he had no fever, no aches or pains, just a terrible weakness. He feebly raised an arm and was alarmed to see how spindly it looked. Unable to jump out of bed to investigate what was going on, he managed instead to roll over languidly and stare into the mirror.
It didn’t take Michael long to realise that he was trapped in Laura’s body, or much longer than that to come to terms with this peculiar state of affairs. He had watched enough kinky porn over the years, and had indulged in sufficient perverted fantasies as a result, that waking up in his sister’s body didn’t disturb him - it just disappointed him. This dream was way too realistic; normally in his incest fantasies his mother and sister were magically replaced with lingerie models.
Well, this was a bummer. Why couldn’t Louise be super-hot, like Rachel? How was he meant to enjoy playing with his sister’s tits when Louise was as flat as a pancake?
He remembered his cruel nickname for his sister, ‘Two Backs’, and guffawed. Except, he didn’t. Instead, he giggled; and it wasn’t a controlled, calculated sexy giggle, not like Rachel’s, whose laugh announced to the world that she was an air-headed bimbo even while its harmonics did something to the male brain that made it start thinking of sex; no - this laugh sounded shrill and goofy.
God! Even the sound of Rachel was a turn-off!
Still woozy, unable to move and unwilling to play along with his imagination’s lacklustre fantasy, Michael began to think instead about Rachel’s big, perfect tits, and about how they bounced and jiggled at her slightest movement; about how they felt as he reached round to grab them as he fucked her from behind, so soft, yet so firm; about their weight as they smothered his cock, slick with spit and pre-cum, as she gave him a tit-wank; about how Rachel would sometimes play with her own nipples, lost in a world of ecstasy, as she deep-throated him.
Fuck! Those blowjobs! Rachel on her knees looking up at him like he was her lord and master, her eyes so big and beautiful that it was like getting a beej from a Disney princess. It was no less than a big, muscular alpha male like him deserved. A perfect little slut to worship him and service him whenever he so desired.
Michael may have been too exhausted to move, but he wasn’t too tired to start feeling horny. Instinctively he reached down to wrap a hand around the thickening girth of his monster and gave a start as he remembered that he was effectively as well-endowed as a Ken doll now.
He was also taken aback to find that Louise's crotch was totally hairless. He knew this was a dream, but, after all, a bikini wax didn’t really seem her style. Ha! Even a bikini wasn’t Louise’s style; it was impossible to imagine his sister wearing anything sexy or revealing - and what did she even have to reveal anyway? A pair of mosquito bites and a boney little arse. He came to the conclusion that Louise just hadn’t started to grow any pubic hair yet.
Christ, what a loser! Eighteen years old and she hadn’t even grown enough pubes that she needed to wax them off!
And then, from outside the door, came his mother’s voice.
“Louise, aren’t you up yet? Come on, we need to leave soon! Hurry up and get dressed!
So much for the hope that his mum might parade in wearing a PVC catsuit and brandishing a whip, and save him from this boring dream. It was all way, way too realistic. Oh well, enough of this shit. Maybe if he played along it would hurry up and end sooner and he could wake up and fuck a real-life mega-babe.
Drowsily, he rolled out of bed and started groping for some clothes.
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A unique story for sure. I'm enjoying the description and the humor -- not sure where the plot is going but I'm enjoying the ride nonetheless! :clap:
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Chapter 3.2
Michael woke up. He had a throbbing headache and felt terrible, but as he blinked and yawned, he felt relief: relief that he wasn’t having that crappy dream any more. Just the memory of being stuck in his sister’s scrawny little body made him feel sick. How could she stand being so pathetic?
A wave of nausea made his stomach lurch. Michael suppressed a burp.
Fuck, the thought of being that weak made him literally feel sick. He needed to sit up.
Still groggy, Michael struggled to raise himself off the table, which he now realised was vibrating. In fact, his head wasn’t throbbing: the table was. So was his chair. So was everything. What the fuck was going on? He began to blink more rapidly, blurred images moving in and out of focus, and eventually he made out the figure of his mother sitting at the far end of the table, leaning across to talk to a woman a few seats away.
Michael stared blankly at his mother, trying to work out why she was there - and where, come to think of it, was there? The location felt familiar, but he couldn’t yet place it. Puzzled and still feeling unwell, he watched his mother talking - from where he sat he could just make out his mother’s half of the conversation over the weird throbbing noise...
“It will be the largest villa excavated in France for decades… Oh yes, we’ve already found an incredible mosaic… I’m very excited to be leading the project… It’s hard to say - we have enough funding for several months… Yes, that’s my daughter… Yes, she’s coming with me for the duration of the project… No, she’ll be homeschooling once we’re out there… She’s incredibly clever and, between you and me, she doesn’t enjoy school very much - I think she’s so far ahead of the other girls academically that she finds it hard to make friends… I think she’ll do fine on her own, preparing for her exams… Oh no, no, she’s not sitting her GCSEs; she’ll be taking her A Levels… Yes, she does look very young for her age, but she’s actually eighteen… I know, she’s so small, that always surprises people when they find out… Emotionally, she is very mature for her age; I know I can trust her when I'm working away on-site - she won’t be out getting into any trouble - not that there’s really anywhere to go near the site… No, she has a brother, but he lives with his father; I can’t imagine him enjoying studying in seclusion… That’s right, he’s the polar opposite of his sister… He’s obsessed with going to the gym and with chasing girls… Yes, he was staying with us recently and I asked him the exact same thing but I couldn’t persuade him to take his sister along to the gym with him even once - I do wish she would do some form of exercise, though; she just sits indoors with her books all day and she’s so frail for a girl her age…”
Michael started to get worried. This all seemed wrong. You couldn’t wake up from a dream and find yourself in another dream, could you? Probably not unless you were in a Christopher Nolan film, not that he ever understood those bullshit movies. And he was pretty sure he wasn’t in a Christopher Nolan film: nothing pretentious was happening and Michael Caine wasn’t anywhere to be seen. So what the fuck was going on?
Michael managed to turn his head to look in the other direction and immediately forgot his concerns. This was more like it! At a table a few feet away, a gaggle of girls his age caught his eye. They looked like part of an extended family group, with parents and some younger siblings sitting at a different table.
What better way to shake off this sick feeling and focus the mind than by getting his flirt on? He would give the girls some free tickets to the gun show and get them frothing in their knickers. He felt better just thinking about it!
Michael ran a professional eye over his options. The nearest girl was out: too much of a fatty, and he didn’t feel like harpooning a whale. The girl sitting next to her was a goth and looked too filthy to cradle. His attention focussed on a blonde girl sitting on the far left of the table whose breasts were doing some incredible work contouring her jumper. He wouldn’t kick her out of bed, not until he’d worked up a sweat, anyway. Well, it was her lucky day - once she’d seen what he had to offer she would’t be able to resist sneaking off to a quiet corner somewhere for a quick fuck. And the brunette sitting next to her wasn’t too bad looking, either - maybe he’d thrown her a bone by throwing her down and boning her into the bargain. So many horny little sluts and so little time. What was a muscle-stud to do?
Michael stood up, his movement catching the eye of the very blonde he’d been planning on pleasuring. She smiled politely at him. He returned her gaze, and teased his sleeves up his arms to reveal more of his bulging biceps. Her look turned to one of puzzlement and then amusement. She looked away and seemed to be trying to suppress a laugh. What was going on? He looked down and nearly cried out in anguish as he saw only twiggy little arms and a weedy torso.
This couldn’t be happening. Where were all his hunky, big, bulging muscles?
The ground seemed to lurch beneath him and Michael staggered forwards, grabbing the back of a chair for support. The blonde had muttered something to the other girls and they had all turned to look at him in time to see him topple, but Michael didn’t notice that - he was looking beyond them, and beyond their table, to where there was a small window, through which he could see only an expanse of sea.
It wasn’t a window: it was a porthole. He was on a boat!
Michael struggled to stand up straight but the rocking motion was too much for his skinny legs and he stumbled forwards, clutching at the table where the four girls stared at him with looks of amusement, alarm, scorn and disgust respectively. No girl had looked at him like that before, ever.
Despite how confused he was, and how awful he felt, Michael’s instincts kicked in.
“Hey girls, how you do-"
Michael stopped abruptly as he caught sight of his reflection in the polished metal surface of the table and saw his sister looking back at him. His heart sank. He was still stuck in his sister's body. His head was spinning, but he tried to get a grip of himself: everything would be alright if he could just bend the blonde over in a disabled toilet and fill her with cock. Hell, he'd even settle for pulling the fatty right now.
"How you do-eurgh. Eurgh. Bleeeeurgh…”
Michael vomited down his front as he collapsed to the floor.
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Definitely an interesting perspective and story!
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Very interesting take. Good flow and detail. Hope to see more.
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Solid writing and a novel storyline which could go in multiple directions. Thanks for sharing
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Chapter 3.3
Michael stared at himself in the rear-view mirror of the car, knocked out of position during his tantrum, and tried to decide what was worse…
Was it the fact that himself was in fact herself? Like, for real. Really for real. This was not a fantasy or a dream or - more accurately - a nightmare. Perhaps it was a curse? Stuck in a girl’s body and he didn’t even have any tits to play with. It must be a curse!
Or was it the fact that herself was his flat-chested sister, objectively the least sexy girl in the entire world? Even if they weren’t related he would have described Louise as a cold shower personified, more of a turn-off than Maggie Thatcher naked on a cold day. Every hole’s a goal, as the saying goes, but some holes were definitely own-goals, bad enough to be immortalised in an end-of-season blooper reel, and his sister was one of them.
His sister was also an ugly crier, because of course she was; everything about her was repulsive and weak. And so now his eyes were puffy, his face was red and crumpled like a baby’s, snot streamed from his nostrils, and he couldn’t make it stop. Why couldn’t he make it stop? It had been bad enough that he had thrown up over himself in front of those girls, but it was his reaction to his chunder waistcoat that had really shocked him: his lip had started wobbling, tears had run down his cheeks and he had stood there and wailed inconsolably until his mum had taken him by the hand and lead him to the toilets to clean him up.
What was wrong with him? He blew his nose on the T-shirt he had been given. Even that was a cruel joke, a mockery of what he had once been: the mother of one of the girls had followed them to the toilets and offered them a clean T-shirt, which they had kept to hand because they were worried their daughter might suffer from sea-sickness. He had briefly cheered up at the thought of wearing a shirt the busty blonde’s tits had once touched, but then he had realised he was being offered a top belonging to her 11-year-old sister.
It was a little short, but it had fitted him.
He had been the biggest, buffest dude in his school and now he was reduced to the size of an 11-year-old girl and to wearing a pink, sparkly My Little Pony T-shirt. Was it any wonder he had finally broken down and had a temper tantrum as they had approached the port?
Actually, perhaps the worst thing of all was how easily his mum had been able to wrestle him down to the ship’s lower decks and back into the car. It should be him picking up women, not the other way around! But this body was too puny to put up much of a fight.
He remembered all his beautiful, bulging muscles and started to cry again. He had been so big and so strong, and he had only been going to get bigger and stronger with the chemical assistance he had ordered. Eventually he’d have become so studly that Rachel, as babesome as she was, would have had to become his side hoe at best after he ditched her for a famous swimwear model - although he would have definitely kept her on speed dial as a good option for a booty call when he fancied a threesome. She was the throat GOAT, after all.
As his mum started the engine, she adjusted the rear-view mirror and he lost sight of himself. He knew they were about to embark on a 6-hour drive to her excavation site, because she had told him so in no uncertain terms once she had pushed him back into the car and told him to stop pleading to be allowed to return home.
He was trapped, trapped in his sister’s body, trapped in a little girl’s clothes, trapped in this car, trapped in a foreign country with no escape possible and with no prospect of returning to his beefcake bod and banging his boner-donor girlfriend.
Yeah, that was definitely the worst thing of all: he was trapped.
Michael slumped in his seat and sniffled, too depressed to carry on begging to go home.
He was trapped.
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Not bad for a mini. Hope for a good conclusion.
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Chapter 3.4
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
Michael nodded morosely, his eyes downcast, staring at his spindly legs. It still didn’t make sense to him - how could Louise seemingly not have calves? Surely just walking around required more muscle than this? He felt like he was propped up on two cocktail sticks.
“Because you can come with me, if you want - there’s accommodation at the excavation site. You might find it interesting? A distraction could be… good for you. I know you haven’t been very happy since we arrived here.”
Michael blinked rapidly to prevent himself from crying. Louise’s tear ducts were the only part of this pathetic body that weren’t deprived of exercise. This body cried so often that his sister’s tear ducts must have been as well-developed as his biceps. His real biceps, that was, the sleeve-busting ones he had developed back when he inhabited his own beautifully sculpted body, the ones that random women couldn’t resist stroking and squeezing as they talked to him, fluttering their eyelashes and imagining him fucking them senseless - not the overcooked linguine strands that currently passed for his arms.
You couldn’t even dent his biceps; Louise’s biceps weren’t even al dente.
Despite his best efforts, Michael was unable to stop a few teardrops splattering onto his chest. His flat, scrawny chest. Well, Louise’s flat, scrawny chest.
Normally an even slightly wet T-shirt clinging to a female body would have made him a happy man, but not this time: any application from Louise to join the Itty Bitty Titty Committee would have been rejected outright because she was so underqualified. And normally even thinking about breasts would have roused his anaconda, but that was gone too. He still reflexively stuck his hand down his waistband several times a day only to find a horrifying absence of schlong. Perhaps he was suffering from phantom limb syndrome? It wasn't like he'd had a limb amputated, but his dick was as big as an arm.
He grunted dismissively in response to his mother’s suggestion. It came out as a sad high-pitched squeak, like he was a depressed mouse.
“Well, okay, if you’re sure. I really have to go now - I’m already running late. Don’t forget: I’ve left my credit card and laptop in the kitchen so you can order more food when you need it. The farmer has filled our freezer, which is very nice of him but I won’t blame you if you want something other than beef. Oh, and he gave me a map of the local area; I’ve left it on the kitchen table. Maybe you could go out for a ride on one of the bikes, if you wanted? The fresh air and exercise might make you feel better...”
Michael stared at the ground and scratched the toe of the size 2 shoe he was wearing in the dust.
His mother sighed.
“Bye, then. I’ll phone you once I’ve arrived. I know you’re never happier than when you’ve got your nose in a book, so I hope the peace and quiet cheers you up a bit. Imagine all the studying you’ll be able to do in this solitude!”
As his mother drove away, Michael felt nauseous, and it wasn’t because of the smell of cow shit wafting across the rolling fields that filled the space between where he stood and the horizon: no, it was the fact he was alone with nothing else to do but read.
Reading was for nerds. And nerds were for mocking or, sometimes, for beating up, especially if you wanted to show off in front of some cute girls at school. Girls had always loved it when he had asserted his dominance and demonstrated that he was the alpha by beating the shit out of someone scrawnier than him.
But on this farm, in the middle of nowhere, there were no girls to impress. And even if there were girls, there was no way he would have been able to impress them anyway because there was definitely no one scrawnier than him to beat up now.
Besides, even if he did manage to impress a girl, how was he meant to fuck her without a dick?
They had been at the farm for three days and Michael had spent most of that time pleading with his mother to be allowed to go back home; even if he was still stuck in his sister’s body, it felt like it would have been the first step to getting back his old life. But his demands had fallen on deaf ears and each morning he had woken up with a little less hope that he could escape.
And now, finally, he had come to accept that he was stuck here, alone. Well, apart from all the cows. Technically, there was the farmer and his family, too - but the farmhouse itself was a barely visible speck in the distance; the only neighbours he had seen so far were all four-legged.
Michael moped across the courtyard that separated the cottage they were staying in from a barn and a small cluster of single-storey buildings. His mother had relayed to him the information that these were rarely used apart from when the vet visited or when the farmer needed some feed from his reserve stores.
In the absence of anything more exciting to do, Michael had already wandered through these buildings, any surprise at finding them all unlocked and unguarded disappearing as he explored further afield and established they were in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, or whatever the French equivalent was: le bumfuq nowhere, probably. It was hard to believe anyone would make the effort required to come this far to steal cow food and vitamins or whatever.
That evening he tried to cheer himself up by defrosting and cooking a steak, but he didn’t have the appetite required to do more than pick at it. As he poked at the leftovers, he looked at the map. All the local sights were marked on it, which meant that it was largely empty. There was a small village with an unpronounceable name. There was an image of a stick figure walking past a tree, which he took to be a forest trail. And there was another icon which took him a moment to decipher: some wavy lines and what appeared to be the top half of a waving stick figure… could it be a swimming pool?
He looked at the words printed on the map’s key: centre de loisirs.
He had failed French GCSE. Well, apart from his French oral. That cute French assistant from Paris had closed the classroom door and begged to suck his cock before he’d even sat down. He remembered how he’d turned up for the exam straight from a lunchtime gym session, his glorious muscles pumped to the max and glistening with sweat. That buttoned-up brunette had practically dropped her skirt and started to rub herself off the second she had seen him.
He’d given her the D, and he’d given it to her good; in return she’d given him an A*.
He missed knowing that he was able to make a woman wet enough to drown a toddler in her knickers just by giving her a wink and a pec flex. He missed being a tall, dark, strong and handsome brute; Gaston had had nothing on him.
Centre de loisirs and an image of a swimming pool... Could that be French for leisure centre? In which case, it might not be just a pool. There might be a gym, too. And a gym meant weights. And weights meant lifting. And lifting meant muscles.
Michael’s stomach lurched. For the first time in days he sat up straight, his face animated, his eyes gleaming with purpose. It looked like this leisure centre was about five miles away. The farmer had left them some old bikes - five miles on a bike would be nothing!
He began to yearn for the feeling of his hands gripping cold iron, the burn, the pump, even DOMS. He missed it all. He needed it again.
Maybe it was time to play the hand he had been dealt. If he was stuck in Louise’s runty little body, he could at least take steps to build it up.
And to build this body up, first he would need to destroy it. Yes, he liked the sound of that. He hated this body. Torturing it would give him great pleasure. He would tear every muscle fibre over and over again and once they had repaired themselves he would repeat the process.
He would make this body suffer so much pain it would have no tears left to cry.
He began to mentally map out his daily routine, his training plan, his diet, pacing the kitchen, talking excitedly to himself.
He would make this body grow bigger if it killed him; death would be preferable to being trapped like this forever anyway.
He would do whatever it took.
The next morning, before the sun had even risen, Michael raced across the dark courtyard, through the barn and into the adjacent annex. Eventually he found the mountain bikes his mother had mentioned. They were old but clean and in good working order. He wheeled one back towards the courtyard, but lost control pushing it through a doorway as he discovered that he wasn’t strong enough to manoeuvre it with one hand.
The bike toppled sideways and its handlebars knocked half a dozen boxes off a well-stacked shelf.
Nursing his wrist which had given way under the weight of the falling bicycle, he bent down to scoop the boxes up. One fell open as he lifted it and the bottle inside slipped out and smashed on the floor. Michael cursed and looked at the box, hoping it wasn’t something expensive. An image of a cow next to the word FINAPLIX was stamped across the top. They must be supplies for the vet, and all the other boxes looked the same so surely no one would miss one broken bottle.
Too excited to delay any further, he decided to get going and tidy up the glass later.
Five miles on a bike might have been nothing to him once, but even on the flat he struggled to generate the power he needed to move as fast as he wanted and his legs screamed for respite after barely five minutes.
As he sat on the verge, panting, he cursed this body’s lack of strength, lack of speed and lack of stamina.
It took him nearly two hours to reach his destination, with several stops along the way to catch his breath by the side of the road. He spent all the time in the saddle glaring at his scrawny thighs, loathing what he saw, trying to use it to motivate him to pedal faster.
Eventually, he reached the place marked on the map. A dusty track led off the road and wound down behind a screen of pine trees. Michael was puzzled - this didn’t look like a leisure centre. His heart sank as he rounded the trees and saw the track ended by a chain link fence which surrounded a squat open-sided building and an outdoor swimming pool.
Overcome with exhaustion and disappointment, he dismounted and collapsed to the floor.
When he managed to summon up the strength to stagger towards the fence, he discovered there was a sign on the gate, which he couldn’t decipher, but the padlock was clear enough: the pool must have closed now that summer was over.
Michael stared through the chain link fence. The pool had been drained. Recliners and parasols were neatly gathered in a pile underneath a tarpaulin next to a lifeguard chair. He peered at the ugly concrete building at the other end of the pool - it looked like a giant bus shelter with the side facing him open to the elements.
The clouds parted and Michael caught his breath as the interior suddenly became a little less murky. Could it be? Inside the building he thought he could glimpse metal reflecting the weak sunlight.
The best kind of metal: metal bars and metal circles.
He looked up - the fence was too high for him to climb: Louise’s weedy legs were already so wobbly that just standing up took all his effort. In desperation, he started to circle the perimeter and eventually saw a small hole under the fence that looked like it had been dug by a fox.
It was only a small hole, but he only had a small body, and, if the opening were only a little bigger, he was sure he would be able to squeeze through.
He dropped to his knees. After a few minutes of scratching away at the dirt he had widened the gap enough that he was able to wriggle through. Despite his weariness, he managed to run towards the building and when he saw what was inside he started to cry again, wiping tears of joy from his cheeks with his muddy fingers.
There were weights! There were barbells and dumbbells and a selection of basic equipment which, even if it had seen better days - benches with torn padding repaired with duct tape, metal frames dented and discoloured with patches of rust - was everything he needed.
Michael returned home slowly, partly because he was physically incapable of going any faster, but also because he was preoccupied with planning out the next few days. For the first time since this disastrous body swap had happened, he felt happy.
Back at the farm, Michael wheeled the bike into the outbuilding and saw the broken bottle lying on the floor.
He bent down and began to gingerly pick up the larger pieces of glass, only to find that the label on the bottle was still holding together nearly all of the shards. On the label itself he saw the words Acétate de trenbolone.
His mouth went dry.
He didn’t need to know French to translate that: trenbolone acetate! His contact at the gym had promised to hook him up with a supply of tren before… before all this happened.
He hadn’t known it was a steroid for cattle though. He remembered how he had mourned the lost opportunity to become even bigger with chemical assistance. And now he pictured himself back in his old body, but bigger than he’d ever imagined before, an absurdly muscle-bound hunk more swollen and more aggressive than a bull.
It was a beautiful image, but it just made him angry. To think that he had been deprived of becoming the roided-out muscle-beast he had been destined to become, to think that he had been deprived of the world worshipping him as the ultimate alpha stud, to think that he had been deprived of all the women that would have been desperate to suck him and fuck him, if only he’d been able to keep training his body while taking this cattle steroid.
Well, there was nothing stopping him now, was there?
He would do whatever it took.
He would make this body grow bigger if it killed him.
No.
If it killed her.
He hated this body and he would make this body grow bigger if it killed her.
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Nice to see more of this one, even if it's not my favorite of your stories. Always great to read your writing!
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Interesting format. Would love to see how this story continues
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Now the growing begins. Would like to read more.