Untitled strength story

[Qwe]

Found this while looking through some net archives. Thought it was a good enough find to put here for posterity.




You thank god for the invention of the 24-hour gym as the keyswipe before you responds with a beep and a green light, allowing you to step out of the cold 2 AM air and into the slightly more accommodating entrance of the climate-controlled gym--it's still slightly chillier than you might have liked, but you'll be warmed up after a go on the treadmill or an elliptical or something. These late shifts have been killing you lately, but it's still a step up from your last job despite the late hours. Still, despite your fatigue and the growing cold, you've been trying to keep yourself going to the gym; your new job has been hell on your back, and you've heard a few horror stories from some of the vets that have spurred you into trying to keep yourself in shape.

Your local gym was a bit weird; the owners had really made the best of the space that they were offered. You can only assume that it was formerly some sort of office space; though a few of the walls had been knocked down when the gym had moved in, most of the floorplan seemed to have been conserved. Maybe the owners thought that the unconventional layout would add for more flexibility. On the other end of a reasonably expansive main area that likely served as a reception area and adjacent rooms in another life stood a hallway with branching rooms on each side, each containing a series of smaller, more specialized rooms. An empty hall for Zumba and yoga programs, a room packed with bikes for spin classes, and even a tightly-packed former break room that had been transformed into a makeshift Crossfit box. It was a weird place to grow accustomed to, but at the very least there was something for everybody. The one time you had shown up during peak hours for your keycard, there were enough people to result in carefully-coordinated machine sharing during sets and a line for the Box Room. Thankfully, you had the place to yourself nearly every time.

With a sigh, you make your way through the entry room to the back, heading for the Spin Room for your warmup. As you pass reach the hallway though, the sound of someone else in the gym catches your attention. A little awkward maybe, considering the hour, but sometimes that's just how things shake out. They're louder than the usual night owl, though, and something about the tone of their efforts makes you a little uncomfortable. The sound reaches its height as you pass the heavy powerlifting room, a rather niche addition featuring olympic-style weights and other high-volume fare. A sharp, feminine cry reaches your ears, prompting you for a second to fear that something was wrong; after all, if there was one room that posed a direct danger, it was likely that one. You've always wondered why they locked the pool but kept the heavy room open.

You step through the door and peek around the former workspace's initial corner, scoping out the situation before you intrude. Near the corner, an unfamiliar woman stands alone, vocalizing further effort as she pulls out of a deadlift before dropping back down to begin again, the bar gripped by her powerful arms bending with the obscene amount of weight piled on both ends. Each repetition forces the simultaneously toned and bulky legs beneath her to flex and pump, grouped cords leaping to attention on the way up as the moan of a woman left wanting escapes into the still room.

Quietly, you continue to watch as she comes to a stop, holding the bar at the movement's apex as her chest heaves and sweat pours down her body, soaking her fitted Letica gymwear. The intensity of your stare only grows, making it lucky that she was facing the mirror on the wall opposite the brick she leaned against, rather than the row facing the door. Her core heaves in and out with each breath, the expanse and contraction of her abdominals putting the focused flexes of lesser women to something beyond shame. And yet, despite all the signs of effort, the look in her eyes proclaims a rabid, unbridled lust for more, despite there being no way she could force more weight onto the already packed and straining bar. Carefully, she sets the bar down, reversing her grip before returning to her full height. Then, the speed of her breath intensifies, and she slowly begins to bend her arms.

It should have been impossible, but the bar rises, her arms pumping all the way up in a perfectly-executed bicep curl. The moan that washes outward from the inhuman girl is at once sweet as honey and deadly serious; packed with the emotion of pain and effort, yet awash with a sickening amount of lust. Her breath comes out quickly as the bar drops back down, yet before you can even begin to get over your shock and reason that the sole motion was all she had in her, the bar began to rise again, her form deteriorating from pure pleasure as opposed to pain as her back arches, her perfectly sculpted ass and rippling upper back touching the roughness of the exposed brick. Her skin shone between the lights as her body shook, attempting not to writhe in ecstasy as she followed through with a second, third, fourth impossible motion. The cloth between her legs began to steadily deepen in color following a particularly pitched cry, her voice shuddering as she flushed, panting like a fevered dog before she let the bar drop down, pressing against firm, indomitable pillars as she rests.

"...Fuck..." she moans, her face and body a total mess of sweat and blush, hair sticking to moistened skin. The fibers in her arms twitch and jump, raring to go despite what should have been an incredible mixture of burning pain and debilitating fatigue. "God, it's never enough anymore..."

She looks down at the bar, her eyes tracing the line of metal as if it were the world's most attractive man, eyefucking the completely inanimate object as she licks and then bites her bottom lip. Then, slowly, she allows one hand to let go of the bar.

She shrieks, the single arm now holding on to the bar struggling upward as veins leap to attention, her impossible machine of a body defying the object's weight inch by hard-fought inch. Her quads quiver as the discoloration between them deepens and grows, the woman's other arm reaching to grasp her shaking thighs to steady them, slowly but surely making their way to the source of her secondary moisture. "Oh my GOD~" she shouts as her arm reaches its peak, returning to its start as agonizingly slowly as it had risen as she tilted her head to the side, fully enraptured in the shamelessly narcissistic cocktail of sexual pleasure the movement had given her. She bites her lip hard, tilting her head to the side as she repeated the motion. Her arm bulges, swelling with blood and potential as what must have been nearly fifteen inches of power given flesh curls to its fullest extent, dropping down again before forcing another full, insane repetition. Her cry grows in pitch and intensity, the entirety of her upper body tightening as her traps, back, and shoulders pulsate and activate, rippling in jumping waves as she forces more and more out of her body.

Her eyes turn to the motions of her muscles, that same disgustingly sexual gaze turning to the bare, punished arm as it continues to quiver upward, hundreds of pounds present in its solitary grasp. Her arm begins to stall, but she wouldn't have it, her gaze widening and her pleasured grunt turning into a growl as she forces the remainder of the rep. "...Oh...Oh f-fuck...What a fucking body..." Her own leaping muscles seem to kick her into overdrive, another bestial growl of sex and desire driving her arm up in record time, only for it to drop back down and repeat the motion with even greater fervor, more and more pain beginning to coat the woman's pleasure-crazed tones. Yet, the inhumane torture she forced upon herself only seemed to further her will, each pump coming with greater struggle and louder growls, yet each further fueling her desire for one more destructive rep. The shaking in her legs became nigh uncontrollable as she reached the top yet again, her head turning toward the ceiling as she let out one final shriek, veins bulging as her swollen arm held itself at the top of the motion, before finally letting itself extend, the weight falling form her hands and crashing mightily against the floor, causing you to just about leap out of your skin from the sound.

Her hurried breaths grow arrhythmic as she curls her powerful arm into a flex, letting out a high-pitched, wanting moan with each tightening of her arm as she extended and flex over and over, unable to get enough of her own form. It's hard to truly tell from a distance, but you can't help but swear that her arm had grown a little larger as a result of her relentless efforts. Her free arm moves between her legs, now shamelessly fondling herself as she bucked against the wall, her as-yet untrained arm pulsating both with the pleasure it extracted and from the sure promise of getting its own painful solitary session.

Slowly, her eyes turn toward the door; perhaps she had noticed your earlier movement out of the corner of her eye, or perhaps it was mere coincidence. Yet, where you might have expected embarrassment or awkwardness, there was none from her end as she stares at you from the corner of her skyward eyes, bound up in her own sweat, juices, and muscular power. Instead, her pleasured smile merely widens.

"...What? Never seen a girl hit a new personal best before?"

[Qwe]

LIVE NOW

Muscular Women Are Live Right Now

Join private chats instantly. Real models. Real-time interaction.

120+ models online now

Start Watching →

[ame3cv62]

Like the drawing of this story,wish some of the stories on this site had some with them.

[jacksundeen3]

Great job!

[Qwe]

Found another portion.





   It took you a bit of time to get back into your gym routine following your prior experience. Your brief encounter with that strange girl was destined, as far as you could tell, to be a one-time thing. Days ticked by into weeks, and your schedule of eternal night shifts revealed an empty gym time and time again as things abruptly returned to normal. As strange as that night might have been, a part of your mind feels a little...disappointed.

   Memories of that meeting grow fainter and fainter every time you pull up to the empty gym, the lights inside showing a clear gym floor. Sweeping your eyes back and forth along the long line of windows, you notice what appears to be hints of movement over by one of the machines. Looks like you'll be sharing the gym tonight; it's a rare occurrence, but hopefully whomever you end up with will be friendly enough. You quickly make your way through the dark parking lot, the friendly beep of a successful card swipe signaling a refuge from the night air.

   You step out of the entryway and into the main room, canvassing the gym from your new vantage point as you search for whomever will be joining you in the gym that night. As the cadence of effort reaches your ears, your heart skips a beat. You recognize that voice instantly, and the moment you step around a row of machines and set your eyes upon a familiar seated girl, the rush of mixed emotions that constitute your confirmed suspicions hits you like an out of control truck.

   She is seated at the pulldown machine, quick, shallow, elated breaths escaping her with each downward pull of the bar. Her hair cascades perfectly down the front of her shoulders, leaving the rippling, jumping forms of her back on full display. The entirety of her upper body bulges and shifts as her topography works in tandem, her myriad separations tied together by the subtle tracks of just-emerging veins and wrapped in the glistening sheen of sweat. Each ecstatic gasp brings the diagonal fibres of her lower back into full relief, spreading the details outward and shifting them, waterfall-like beneath shimmering, effort-backed droplets, complete with a reflective pool of fluid upon the bench--not all of which seemed to come from her back. Plates upon plates rise and fall in front of her, stacked horizontally from biggest to smallest around a cable that rose to a pulley on the top, testing the limits of the equipment's metal frame. Perhaps it was your reflection in the machine, or a perceptible increase in the volume of your breathing; noticing your presence, she slowly turns, looking over her shoulder as she holds the bar against her chest.

   Her back twitches and bubbles from the stress of held weight. Previously-steady breaths devolve into frenzied, feverish pants, her mind no doubt rendering what should have been pain as a distinctly more pleasurable feeling. For a small, intimate eternity, she holds the pull-down bar just above her breasts as she keeps her eyes upon you, before slowly pulling it down just enough for it to brush against the front of her tight, sweat-darkened sports bra. A light whine escapes her as the metal makes contact with protruding fabric, the pleasure she derives rippling through her back like a shockwave. Fibres and bindings contract in a wave, bringing forth a brief show of incredible definition before her arms finally let go, extending upward in but a second of delectable motion, once again showcasing her body's intricate, machine-like workings.

   The slam that emanates from the falling weights echoes across the room and shakes the floor, several of the weights shifting off the center, kept from falling solely by the cable running through them. The girl had let go early; it was clear that if she had continued to hold on, the sheer weight piled onto the machine would have taken her up with it. She herself takes several moments to compose herself, her many exhalations coming in the form of needy sighs, upward in pitch and distinctly frustrated. Slowly, she wraps her arms around herself, working toward a back that she can neither see nor properly touch. Closing her eyes, she gropes desperately at the parts of it within her reach, hands running lovingly over her shining, pain-filled shoulders, before working her way down to her teres muscles, every visible inch of her upper body twitching and bulging in her afterglow of a pump.

   It was only once she had taken her fill of what little of her back was available to her that she decides to regard you again, settling into a still self-hug as she opened her eyes again, a smile appearing on her face.

   "...Ah...it's you~❤" she says, that same, light, up-and-down flow that you remember from that other fateful night setting your ears on fire. "...Sorry if I was making too much noise...it's just that, well...usually when I come here, all these weights are in use~"

   Taking another look at the pulldown machine, you see exactly what she means. The poor machine was being relentlessly abused with weights collected from all over the gym floor, piled with plates from numerous other chest machines and nearly every squatting machine available.

   "Isn't it so neat~?" she asks teasingly, turning her gaze back to the machine itself, "it's the only one here that uses plates, so it's the only one I can use...I can put as much weight on it as I want when no one's here~!" Slowly, she spins around on the bench, leaning forward and arching her back inward as she places her weight on her hands, one atop the other as she stretches out her arms, nearly cat-like in demeanor. A moan replaces a purr, and her triceps and forearms leap to attention with bestial fervor, bulging and splitting as if wanting to escape her arms and each other. A subtle network of veins cage them all together, each portion of her thoroughbred body fighting against all others, writhing stormily as they sought another outlet for their endless energy. The (perhaps intentional?) show nearly causes you to ignore her entirely; against all odds, the sweetness of her voice managed to pierce the foggy veil her body somehow puts you in. "So~! How long have you been going here? We don't seem to run into each other very often~"

   You tell her that you've only been going there for a month or two, and that the last time you saw her you had only been a member for a few weeks, two at most. You mention your new job brought you in, since it requires more activity than you're used to, and the conversation stalls briefly. Nervously, you try to strike up a conversation on progress, mentioning the changes in your weight.

   Before you can ask her about her own goals (however inhuman they might have been), she giggles, raising one hand and placing the back of it over her mouth as her bicep momentarily bulged and jumped; the paradox between the intensity of its awakening and the idle ease of the motion it was draped within presents an irreconcilable, nigh-disturbing contrast. Though it might have been a rude reaction if it were coming from anyone else, the sparkle in her eyes denoted endearment, and perhaps a touch of interest. "Awww! You're like a little warm-up weight!" she teases, wrapping her arms around her shoulders again. "Warm-up Weight..." She eyes you like one would a pet as she repeats what might have just become your nickname, a hunger building in her eyes--though not for you, the person. No; it was clear in that moment that what truly captivated her was you, the number.

   "Can you do me a favor? Pleeeaaaaase~?" she tauntingly asks, pulling her hands away from her shoulders as she leans forward again, "I could *rea~lly* use a little more weight for this last set...there's no more space for plates, so I was thinking of may~be putting a few of the free weights on top wherever they can fit, but it would be so much easier if you just sat on it or hung on or something...I can make it up to you later! Like, I'm a little busy tonight, so I can't hang around, but if you need a spotter or something next time~"

   Hang on to an already-overstressed machine? Your mind opens your mouth to say no, but a well-meaning "sure" comes out instead, despite your best conscious efforts. She lets out an excited, bubbly gasp, then immediately spins the right-way around on the bench as if she couldn't take the wait any longer. "Awww, that's so sweet of you, thank you soooo much~!" she said, anticipation already beginning to super charge her body. Her breathing sharply intensified again, her back and arms subtly bulging as she stands and lets her hands make contact with the bar above. "You can climb on now~!" she states, giggling slightly as she dangles at the mercy of the machine's weight. "Don't worry! I like the little extra challenge at the beginning~❤"

   Unsure as to what exactly she means, you slip into the equipment's frame, doing your best to find a sitting position among the thinner weights. Lacking the room, you awkwardly adjust, attempting to stand instead. It'll take some doing on your part, and the weights were clearly unbalanced, but the girl on the other side of the machine didn't seem to care. You tell her you're ready, and after flashing you a smile, she proceeds to ignore your presence entirely, staring longingly at both you and the weights as a single, collective entity to be mercilessly moved at her will.

   With a loving, ecstatic mewl, she worked her core and her legs in tandem, hooking herself into the leg locks in what would have been a workout in and of itself for lesser beings. Her abdominals swelled and bunched, shifting into powerful, vein-laced brickwork as she let out a shout, pulling her upper body downward with enough force to bring her perfect, powerful legs under the bar just enough for her to shift into place properly, large, droplet-shaped formations pushing through the tight fabric wrapping her lower body.

   Then, she pulled.

   A long, suffering cry sounds through the gym as her arms fight against the weight, moving downward with a steady, piston-esque smoothness despite the mixture of pain and pleasure swimming through her tones. Barely-there veins shift into view upon her shoulders, running down her arms and feeding life into all she forces to move. The wetness upon the bench doubles, though the sheen upon her skin had yet to intensify. You find yourself ducking to avoid the top of the machine, worsening your position as she reaches the peak of her repetition. At this point, holding on is going to constitute your own form of workout.

   For anyone else, the effort the girl showed would have no doubt constituted a single, ache-inducing barrier break. Yet, not only did she refuse to stop, she only grew faster, the next rep coming more quickly than the last, trembles working their way into each of her motions. Trembles of effort, trembles of shifting, crowding muscles, both fighting each other off for space and dominance while simultaneously executing nigh-perfect motions. The cooperative war of her body. The grace of her movements and the severity of her striations. The beautiful delicacy of her face and the visible, unending power of her body. Her crazed, bedroom-eyed longing, yet for nothing you yourself could provide.

   A woman of contradictions, contrasting elements. Attempts at reconciliation drill a hole into your head and heart, filling them both with a madness of unknown origin. It's all you can do to hold on to the weight and watch.

   Her face contorts as she gasps and screams, the wide-eyed, bestial snarl of a visage doing little to tarnish her beauty. The entirety of her upper body is alight with activity, separations reaching deep into the crevasse below her neck, biceps bulging and shoving against her bulking forearms at the apex of each movement. Even her midsection struggled, her breathing and the backward shift driven by her abdominals causing her skin to ripple like waves upon a pool, individual cuts and channels carrying true moisture through them to the Lycra gymwear below, the spread-open space between her legs wet with something other than sweat.

   "So...so much..." she gasps in-between breaths, pulling the bar toward her quickly with another roar of wanting. "...Oh my god...I'm lifting so much WEIGHT~❤"

   Her love for her own ability merely increases the intensity of her movements, making it even harder for you to keep your grip as each pull lasts only a few seconds, deep, guttural grunts echoing from deep within her in perfect, rhythmic synchronicity with her movements. Her grip tightens as she loses herself in the throes of her own power, her dominion over the weights before her firmly established as she burns through rep after rep, her body practically exploding in the process. Her lats extend, unfurling from her side like blood-filled wings, laced with veins of their own and emanating power at the beginning of each pull. Details blossom upon her shoulders, separating them into rippling swoops as they trickle down to her engorged arms, the human visage of water-cut trails dug into the slopes of high peaks, shaped and formed with effort rivaling such natural processes. Her growls progress into repeated moans, her face on the verge of tears both pained and joyful.

   Finally, she begins to slow, her muscles failing one by one as they buck and push against each other. To her distress, the connection between her mind and her body fails, her moans taking on the familiar, upward tone of longing as less and less of the pressure and pain she craves reaches her. She tenses her abs, bucking and pulling with them to gather some momentum for her failing upper back, placing more tension and pressure on the lower instead. Her moans become angered as she forces her body to give more than it has, more than anyone has ever given. She hits a new stride in her modified repetitions, her sheer desire for more causing veins to spider along the bottom of her shredded stomach, reaching around for the deep V-shapes no doubt erupting into place beyond your sight. She closes her eyes tightly, teeth grit with intensity as she continues to buck downward, forcing her now feelingless arms to pull, and pull, and pull again, their range lessening with each go as she approaches failure.

   She refuses to accept this supposed limit, at least not without a fight. When it seems like she can go no more, only the shallowest of motions managed by her arms, she releases a final, primal scream, her body bulging, fighting against itself, heat and pressure and flesh and power shifting past each other as she threw the entirety of her body into the motion. Her legs pressed up against the guards, swelling outward as the dormant, fully-stocked quads shifted back to give her more leverage, inflating in a rippling pulse and squeezing against the sides of the bench. Her abs strain, flexing and locking as they force her upper body downward inch by inch, vibrating as they bottom out in a plank and force her hips to do the rest of the work, bringing her as close to the bench as she was able. Her arms shattered through their burning fatigue, bringing the bar almost all the way to her chest as her entire body shook. A clang sounds from the top of the machine as one of the weights touched the top of the pulley, the equipment's own abilities ultimately being the only thing stopping her from expressing her own.

   Finally, her body relinquishes its unfathomable death grip upon the hundreds of pounds suspended in the air, sending them all crashing to the ground--along with you, who falls away from the weights, dazed, confused, yet unharmed. Slowly, you get to your feet and watch her from the other side of the machine, one hand working between her legs and the other working a waiting breast. The bench shines beneath the lights, slick with fluid. Elated muscles twitch and jump as her body waves up and down to a new rhythm, the woman's mind alight with a pleasure only her form could ever provide. Each muscle seems carved in relief, detailed with a sculptor's touch, yet ever moving, ever dying to express the power they carried in any way or form they could, even amidst such grueling, strength-sapping punishment.

   At long last, she lets her arms fall to her side, and simply begins to breathe. Her eyelids lose their previous intensity, draping themselves like delicate cloth over her eyes as her face returns to its prior, unblemished smoothness, devoid of pain and struggle and awash instead with an emotional height unknowable to all others. She seems, in that moment, a true Sleeping Beauty, swollen with power that demolishes the need for protection by virtue of its very existence.

   Slowly, she opens one eye, continuing to breathe as she grins at you. "...You were such a big help! That was sooo~ooo good~❤" she says, abs flexing with each outward breath, before somehow managing to tighten to an even greater degree as she forces herself up to a sitting position, snapping together into a wall-like formation on the way up, vine-like veins and segmented pathways still covering much of her core and upper body. "Don't worry about the machine, okay~? I'll clean it up and take all the weights off. You're not planning on using any, are you?"

   You shake your head, still partially stunned. It's all you can manage in the moment.

   "O~kay~y! That's good, I'll take my time then, I might need to after all that~" she replies, hopping up off the bench as if she hadn't exercised at all. She reached down to the side, picking up a towel and modest water bottle. The first goes over her shoulder, before she takes a long pull from the second, arm igniting with hard-fought size and perfectly-shaped definition. "...Whew! Ahhh, yeah~! It's been a while since I've felt this good! I'm gonna take a shower, okay? I'll take care of everything once I get back~!" She tuned, offering a wave and a wink over her shoulder as she bounced off to the hallway, the absolute explosion of musculature still visible on her back. The canyon running down the middle had deepened considerably, crowded by perfectly mirrored layouts of bulges on both sides. They swept up and down like mountains even at rest, yet with the slightest prompting erupted in volcanoes of movement, hiding, appearing, and hiding again as her arms swayed with her walk, their own tectonic system of tangible superiority.

   Then, she was gone again. In a daze, you stand there for what seems to be a whole minute, before making your way over to the treadmill like a zombie, only to end up staring blankly at that, too.

   ...Was there even a point to working out, by then?

[jhunter]

Very good premise, and the art is just the icing on the cake. Can't wait for a good title for the story.
Keep up the great work!