The Chosen One (Brenda's World)

[davidwatts]

1.




It was the muscles that threw him off.  Mike Cooper had just walked in to his local gym in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and saw a perfect symmetry of back muscles lifting weights on a lat pull down machine. Ripped, large and brawny. A Rorschach test of striated muscles that to any bodybuilder could only be considered as something close to perfection. It took him a moment to realize that this was a person, a real person and not something from a movie or AI, it was reality. And from the smooth light-brown skin, dutch braided black-haired bun above the muscles and tan sports bra, undoubtedly a woman. The color of her brown skin blended with the sports bra making it difficult to know where one began and the other ended. Mike did a double-take, a triple take. He slowly walked around the machine and cautiously put some distance between him and her before looking back to see her from the front.



Sweat rolled down massive breasts that arose from well-defined pectoral muscles. Her pecs were so cut and jacked that it was hard to appreciate just how feminine, soft and supple the breasts themselves were. Perfect six-pack abs, large and wide forearms with veins and a patchwork of tattoos—the most prominent being Emily Dickinson's ghostly white daguerreotype face, her hair long undone and wild twining upwards over big, manly-looking biceps and on up to bulging triceps. And as if he wasn't already overwhelmed, he finally saw her face...Caucasian mixed in with Latina blood, lush full lips, an adorable pointed nose, big innocent eyes. At first sight she wasn't beautiful, but once you got into the rhythms of her facial features she looked perfect, heavenly...cute. Cute had to be the label, the proper descriptor because her facial features were not epic, imposing, nothing so jarring and eye-opening as beautiful or drop-dead gorgeous. But pretty and breathtakingly cute.



The woman looked up at Mike staring. Slowly she narrowed her eyes, set the weight down, rotated her head clockwork and stared back.



"Fuck off."



Mike quickly looked away. She certainly didn't sound cute. And how long had he been staring at her? Thirty seconds? A minute? He was in a daze, a trance, his sense of time all thrown off. How could a woman look that jacked? And from her soft and high-pitched voice he could tell she wasn't on steroids. She was all natural.

 

Mike was becoming very hard and bolted to the men's locker room, not daring to look back. 











2.




It was the place to be. Brenda's parties at her four-story loft in Brooklyn Heights. Anyone who was anyone in New York was there. Famous artists, poets, writers, musicians. Women from Saturday Night Live. Super models. Famous athletes. TikTokers. Taylor Swift. They were happenings, parties, art shows, concerts—whatever they needed to be. It was an epicenter to all that was hip and artistic in the city.



The loft had cost Brenda 8.3 million-dollars. On the walls were Matisse, Basquiat, Cézanne, Andy Warhol, Edward Hopper, a few Georgia O'Keeffe's. A few realistic paintings and pictures of startlingly muscular nude women erotically posing in front of smaller, weaker looking men. Above her bed in the master bedroom a prized Frida Kahlo. Most of the floors were white marble covered in rich black veins that bloomed into abstract swirls at distinctive logical points that seemed to guide a visitor around the house as if one was in a museum. Custom-designed modernistic furniture from Europe graced the mostly wide open large rooms. In the far end of the first floor a long, black granite Art Deco bar with circular mirrors in between bejeweled columns that served as the party nucleus to her many grand social gatherings. Something of the past and of the future. Countless architectural and home design magazines had done articles on the pad. The loft was a work of art in its own right.



Brenda herself attracted people for a multitude of reasons. She was a daughter of a Fortune 500 Company CEO with money to spend and the means to live lavishly. She was a renowned novelist/poet who was a tenured NYU literary professor. Her books had won many awards and she was considered a literary genius, a literary wunderkind at twenty-five. And last, but certainly not least, her physical body attracted much attention. Now a thirty-two-year-old millennial, Brenna had stopped partying at the age of twenty-three and over the last nine years had dedicated her life outside academia to fitness and bodybuilding. Every day she ran four to six miles, spent two to three hours in the gym lifting weights and twice a day took muscle supplements. What started as a hobby grew into something more—a genuine passion and love for turning her body into a work of art.



Her muscular physique with the large biceps, wide powerful shoulders, giant thighs provoked different reactions. Some women were in awe, others thought it grotesque. Some men were turned on, others thought it strange. Brenda being a millennial and in academia was, of course, a SJW. Her novels explored themes of female empowerment, women subverting and smashing the patriarchy, misogyny—both of the conscious and subconscious varieties. But most importantly she liked to focus on women redefining what it means to be a female. To Brenda, feminism was about reworking and subverting gender norms to create one's own truly unique identity and character. So she viewed her body's transformation in a political and social lens. She appeared in ads for NoBull, Nike, Victoria Secret's sport bras collection. She gave TED talks and seminars all across the country to empower and inspire women. Her testimony and dedication to the power and benefits of healthy-living, fitness, bodybuilding and not being tied down to any obsolete, dated notions of femininity inspired millions of women to think it was normal to be strong—to be muscular—to have big biceps and arms that might be as strong if not stronger than a man's. Brenda had started something.












3.




But there were other things going on with Brenda that were not public and very private.... After a year of lifting weights, when she was twenty-four, she would flex her biceps and playfully compare them with male friends of hers. At first, hers were usually smaller or if it was a particularly skinny guy hers might be a little bigger. But after a few more years her biceps were usually the same size if not larger than a lot of guys. Of course her arms were always looking more lean and defined than a lot of men who didn't work out, but she was all about the overall mass of muscle. The overall strength. Like, who was really stronger in the upper body area? It was a given that a healthy, adult woman who works out a lot would have a stronger lower body than a man, but Brenda wanted comparable upper body strength. She wanted a cut, jacked arm that had the mass and girth to it that would put her in a league with a male professional bodybuilder. 



She got a private Insta**** account where she would challenge other men to flex-offs. They would meet up, stand either back to back or next to each other and flex their biceps. At first she did this to be playful with her male friends, boyfriends and the random people she would meet online. But over time Brenda really got a kick out of the humiliation and shame some of the men felt. She would mock and belittle their physique with her distinctive, high-pitched sing-songey voice:



"Man, if we ever got into a fight I would fuck you up so bad. Damn!" 



"That noodle of an arm is pathetic. Aren't you embarrassed? I mean—seriously!?"



As time went on, she got bigger and would only do flex-offs with strangers. Her playful razzing began to turn her on and with certain men who seemed terribly emasculated and uncomfortable she would get dark:



"I would kill you in a fight. You know this, right?"



Brenda would stare deep down into the eyes of the man, practicing her lower, husky voice "To be totally honest, I don't think you would survive if we had sex...." 



"I could so rape you right now and there is nothing your scrawny ass could do about it."



It became more and more difficult for her or the men to know if she was joking or not. But it didn't really matter to Brenda, because she felt totally justified in humbling and exposing the ignorance and hubris of men in the world. She felt men needed to be shook up and taken aback at things that would come out of her mouth. Brenda was a hard-core SJW and this was just another means of a making the world a better place, a more equitable place.



However, this was not enough for Brenda. She wanted to be more forceful in her teaching.... So she started taking self-defense classes, kickboxing, karate, MMA, anything she could find. She had to make sure her body and muscles weren't just for show. Brenda wanted to intimidate men with her body, but she also needed the skills in case things got violent. 

At first a few sparring matches with a male friend of hers at the gym. But then she found an underground fighting league where there were few rules and she could cut loose. Her first five fights were with women and she easily won them all. One of the women she hurt quite bad, which Brenda felt terribly guilty about. But it was clear she was a natural, and she wanted her next fight to be with a man. All of the promoters in New York thought it was too risky and refused to put it on. But after a few months she found a crazy Russian immigrant named Vlad who had actually done mixed fights oversees and had money and connections. Brenda finally got her first mixed fight, and—she won.








4.




Brenda's bff since high school and workout buddy was Lori, who had a small gym with a treadmill and weightlifting equipment in her high rise apartment in downtown Manhattan. With floor-to-ceiling windows they would look out at the wide expanse of the city while working out.



Lori was an acclaimed indie filmmaker/actress and with her fame and Brenda's fame it had gotten to the point that where they would only workout in public if absolutely necessary. They were done with the staring and the creeps. Their bodies were special, they were special and they both felt it was a privilege for people to see their physiques in action.



Lori was blonde and tall with what some might call a plain oval face, but to others quite striking: perfect facial symmetry, a strong jaw line, unblemished white complexion, intelligent lively eyes. An unpretentious beauty a lot of men found attractive because she was approachable and not completely out of their league. 




It was early evening in Lori's apartment and the lights of the city were coming on beneath a wide and strikingly red sky with stray grey and orange clouds forming an ominous ring far above the skyline. Lori was standing tall, in perfect form doing bicep curls, one arm at a time. When she lifted her forearm to her chest and it got bunched up with her biceps and breasts it created a powerful cluster of female flesh and muscle. She wore tight black workout pants and a diaphanous white t-shirt which made it easy to see her grey sports bra. Her legs were the most muscular part of her body and were close to perfection: tight muscular calves flaring out into thick, beefy thighs, the thickness and the proportions stunning. Lori took great pride in her legs. There were fit women you would see walking down the street in tight black leggings and be impressed and then there was Lori. She took your typical perception of sexy, fit, strong female legs and enlarged that to unheard of levels of muscularity and size. This was not to say her arms were not impressive, her biceps and upper-body were easily muscular enough to compliment her lower body.



Overall Brenda had the impressive muscle size, especially in the upper body, but Lori was taller and more lean. She had muscles, but she had more of a graceful, typically feminine and athletic body than a bulky bodybuilder. Yes, her legs were massive, but they never took away from her classically feminine build and poise.




"What if we take things up a notch?" said Brenda who was bench-pressing two-hundred pounds with ease.



"Yeah?"



"I saw this creeper the other day at the gym. Fucking staring at me for like, a minute. Wasn't even trying to hide it. So pervy and rude, and it's like excuse me—you are standing right in front of me and I can see you're staring at me! Hello?!"



"Sounds like a shithead."



"And...he looked out-of-shape. Fuckin' beer belly, big fat arms with no definition. Probably works out like two or three times a month—at most!"



"He sounds perfect."



"Oh yeah."



Brenda set the weights down and sat up on the bench looking up at Lori. "You know, I'm willing to go all the way this time," Brenda took a sip from her water bottle, her biceps fully pumped from the workout and looking incredibly defined and enormous without having to flex, "Girlfriend—I am not fucking around anymore."



Lori, now fully pumped herself set her weights down and did a double-bicep flex. Her biceps large and formidable.



"Do you think I'm stronger than him?"



"It's not even close babe."



Lori then turns to the side and strains her upper-body for an impressive tricep flex. "So when's the party?"






5.




Throughout the loft people chatted and mingled. Drinks were served at the bar, plates of rare and exotic food were set out. Warm and graceful ambient music intertwined with dark and violent recorded city noises of men yelling in fights, men crying, slowed-down and drugged out recordings of men talking about women and cars, where one couldn't quite tell if it was from outside Brenda's loft or not. It created a surreal, dream-like effect that both delighted and mystified the audience. It definitely felt political and feminist, but it also gave off an air of solemnity and a presentiment of something ominous which was disquieting to some of the crowd. Others weren't quite sure what Brenda was going for, but they liked it. Like always, her pad felt like an art museum with new and exciting installations every time they came.

Saturday Night Live star Kara Berman laughed and carried on fabulously with Brenda. They were big fans of each other's work and had become close friends over the last few years. Kara wore one of her customary zany, clown-like hipster outfits and Brenda had on a sexy, black sleeveless dress that showed off her amazing figure. She had dolled herself up for the evening with dark plum eyeshadow and arched thin eyebrows. As she spoke animatedly to Kara using her arms and hands to gesture her biceps bulged impressively. Brenda had just gotten a pixie cut and someone just casually glancing at the crowd would assume they were looking at a well-built man in drag. Every few minutes a well-meaning guest would come up to Brenda and compliment her on physique. Brenda would smile, pretend to be abashed, look sideways and flex her biceps or triceps. She tried to be as girlish as possible almost to the point of being childlike when it came to discussing her physique with most people, especially in social situations. 




Brenda and Kara were in the middle of a literary conversation: "Cormac McCarthy is so last century. He's dead—white—and boring! Have you read Zadie Smith?" Brenda asked Kara.



"I love Zadie Smith. She's amazing!"



"I know right?!"



Lori walked in to the foyer with Mike Cooper carrying his gym bag, and started introducing him to the crowd. As much as she hated going out in public to workout, Lori had gone to Mike's gym for a couple weeks and eventually met him after a few days. She first noticed him sneaking glances at her while she was working out. Furious and enraged Lori did her best to keep her anger in check. Playing it cool she struck up a conversation with him about lifting weights and fighting. He tried way too hard to impress with her his knowledge of muscle supplements, fitness and MMA moves. It was excruciating for Lori, but she was on a mission.



Eventually Lori said, "Look, this might be a bit forward, but, I have a friend who likes to fight...."



"Fight?"



"A female friend."



"She wants to fight me?"



"Yeah, she's pretty tough."



"Like, a real fight? Or just some sparring?"



"A real fight."



"I don't know...I don't want to hurt her."



"I wouldn't worry too much about that."



Mike thought it sort of strange, but once Lori told him it would take place at an exclusive loft party in Brooklyn with famous people he was intrigued and figured he would meet even more fit and beautiful women. Mike had been in a few "official" fights, nothing too serious, but figured since he was fighting a woman it would mostly be an exhibition for a woman to show off some fighting moves. Demonstrate how she would defend herself if she was ever attacked in the real world. Maybe pin a man to the ground. Shit like that.





Going through the crowd, trying his best to fit in with the intelligentsia and artists around him, Mike saw Brenda and immediately a sense of familiarity came over him. He recognized her from somewhere...but where? Yes! She was the sexy muscular woman from the gym—and with short hair! Mike couldn't believe his luck. Now he had a perfect opportunity to apologize and to actually find out her name.



"Ladies ladies!" shouted Brenda. "And—gentlemen too, don't worry I never forget about you,", the crowd laughed as she pointed her finger at a few of the men in the crowd. "It's time for the main event! Everyone upstairs to the gym. Bring your beverages."



Slowly the crowd made its way upstairs to the fourth floor, where the blue mat-covered gym was adjacent to Brenda's bedroom. Brenda had cleared away the equipment to create a large fighting ring.



Lori lead Mike back to the foyer and into an adjoining guest bedroom. She told him to change and then to head to the fourth floor for the fight. Mike was very impatient and excited to talk with the muscle girl, but figured he would soon get his chance. 



Mike set his workout clothes on a sleek art deco mahogany bed with a sparkling silver curvilinear headboard. In the corner, looming over the entire room a very muscular verdigris statue of Medusa with her tongue stuck out and right hand giving the bird. He looked around: an exotic and very costly Persian rug between the bed and a master bathroom with a shower and Jacuzzi. A couple of armchairs around a glass coffee table by a large bay window overlooked the street. Brenda had spared no expense on any room of her loft.




Mike had his shirt off and was standing in his boxers when he heard a knock at the door, "Yes?"



A few women from the party laughed and giggled, he could see shadows underneath the door.



"Can I help you?"

More giggling, "Ah, are you the dude that's gonna fight Brenda?"



Mike laughed, "Maybe. Whose Brenda?"



One of the girls opened the door just enough to stick her head through, it was the cute hipster girl with the clownish outfit and big geeky glasses who had been talking a lot with his mystery muscular woman. Was that Brenda? Was he going to fight her?



Seeing that he wasn't completely naked she opened the door a few more inches. Three other attractive ladies were right behind her, trying to get a peek.



"Oh-la la!" said the hipster girl loudly as if she was on stage performing.



"Oh my...we got a stud in the house!" said one of the other women, who was very fit with toned arms and legs.



"Hunk alert!" said another laughing.



Mike again asked, "Who exactly is Brenda?" 



"You'll see. Good luck!" said the hipster girl as she shut the door.



Mike looked down to the floor, irritated. Were they making fun of him? Why all the giggling? They were acting like they were in high school. What was so funny? He also wondered: were those women famous? Had he seen them on TV? Was it Saturday Night Live? He couldn't think of their names but they definitely looked familiar. He wished he could punch the hipster girl in the face and break those glasses. Show her what's up.




Skipping up the stairs two at a time, Lori hurried into Brenda's bedroom where she was changing. When she walked in Brenda had just set out her black sports bra and matching black spandex shorts on the bed. Above them the absorbing and piercing black eyes under the unibrow of Frida Kahlo seemed to look down at the two women with great intensity and sense of purpose.



"Can you help with the zipper?" asked Brenda.



"Of course my love," Lori walked right behind Brenda and slowly unzipped her dress, revealing her enormous upper back muscles. Lori's mouth opened involuntarily—as always—she was in awe. She then zipped it down to the waist and Brenda stepped out of the dress, one foot at a time. 



Brenda then stood upright, arms akimbo and rolled her neck around, hearing a few cracks. She reached behind and unstrapped her black, large-cupped bra, her breasts lowering only slightly. Lori stared at the giant, luscious mounds peaked with large dark brown nipples jutting outwards, slightly rising and lowering to the woman's breath, like independent life forms unto themselves, like otherworldly creatures attached to her friend's upper torso.



These extraordinary pieces of feminine flesh, part of a body that was comprised of what so many people viewed as exclusively masculine made Brenda seem evolved to Lori. Taking what was best from both sexes, she was becoming next-level.



Brenda put on her sports bra and spandex over black panties. Lori then felt up Brenda's wide forearms and on up to her biceps which her hand had little chance of squeezing or compressing in the slightest. Her other hand felt up Brenda's rock-hard abs and kept going up until she got to a large breast.



Lori looked into Brenda's eyes, "You ready for this?"



Brenda looked up and to the left, perplexed, contemplative, deep in thought, a little mischievous.... She smiled and looked back at Lori directly, "I am, but I don't know if he is...."



Lori kept fondling Brenda's breast, unlike the rest of her body so soft and warm, "You are something else you crazy—"



Brenda cut her off with a deep and passionate kiss.





6.



The fourth floor gym-space was large and comfortably fit everyone at the party around the fighting ring. Most of the onlookers were intrigued, some a little confused. A lot of them weren't quite sure what they were in for. Blinding bright light came through large windows illuminating patches of the blue mat in measured sequence. If one looked out past the light they could see the roof tops of Brenda's neighbors. 



Kara and her fellow Saturday Night Live cast members Marissa, Zoe and Jodi stuck together at one corner of the gym with big smiles on their faces, drinking their cocktails. Brenda had confided to Kara about the nature of the fight and the SNL ladies were all very excited. In the last year Brenda had gotten Kara and her crew into the world of fitness and lifting weights. Kara was developing some nice abs and decent-sized biceps and wanted to get even bigger because it was perfectly in line with her body horror comedy. Marissa took the most naturally to it and had even bigger biceps than Kara. She got a big kick out the internet calling her the Muscle Queen of SNL. The group easily found many clever and humorous ways to incorporate their new physiques into the skits. The best being when a certain hot, Hollywood Twink hosted the show and rapped about the many woke benefits of having a muscular girlfriend: moving furniture, standing up to bigger guys in fights, opening a jar of pickles. Brenda's reach and influence was far reaching.



Out stepped Mike walking to the ring and trying his best to hold in his gut. The crowd parted for him to enter, they thought he looked like a big man, but not one in particularly great shape. Mike had not been a big hit at the party with his inappropriate jokes, zero fashion sense and failure to pick up any cultural references in the conversations. Brenda's loft parties were exclusive and a lot of people were perplexed at how he got invited. Mike definitely picked up on the vibe. This, combined with displaying his body and being dressed up for a fight against a woman made him feel silly and self-conscious. He started to feel he was being used....



Like a living sculpture Brenda walked out of her bedroom in her black sports bra and tight black spandex that only came down a few inches from her waist, covering up very little of her massive thighs. Prominent veins coursed through her imposing and brawny forearms and biceps. Even without lifting weights her body still looked pumped. Her breasts stood out proudly and defiantly feminine amongst all of the "masculine" muscle. She had removed her makeup and it was easier to focus on the body as a whole, as one continuous and harmonious natural physique. 



Despite everyone having a good idea as what her body looked like there were still gasps and people took out their phones and started taking pictures.



Brenda walked into the fighting ring, staring coldly at Mike, just like she had done at his gym. The sun's rays coming in from the windows spotlighted her cavernous chest. Mike was thinking she recognized him, but what really threw him off was how her demeanor had changed once she saw him. She went from being warm, bubbly and smiling with the crowd to being dispassionate and almost forbidding towards him as soon as she stepped into the ring. She seemed to know or understand something he didn't.



He was now fairly certain she recognized him and he wanted to apologize, make amends somehow but knew he couldn't do it here. But maybe she didn't recognize him? Maybe she was just being tough and intimidating and he was being paranoid?



Brenda addressed her audience "First of all, I want to thank everyone for coming! It means a lot to me. Now, I know what you're probably asking yourselves. Like, what the fuck is going on?" Everyone laughed and knew she had asked the right question. Brenda continued, "But as some of you know I've been getting into fighting lately. Martial arts, karate, MMA, kickboxing—you name it—I've done it. So, I am so thrilled to show you my progress and all the hard work I've put into this..." Brenda looks upwards trying to find the right word and then laughs, "hobby." 



Mike knew it was a possibility that he might fight her once he saw her at the party, but he just figured it would be someone he didn't know. He still felt confident about his abilities and knew that just because a chick has big muscles that does not make her a good fighter. All of that bulk could make her slow and clumsy.



Brenda continued, "I've had some official fights before, but it was always hard to get all of you to come! I figure if we did it here at the loft as a demonstration, it would be more enticing.... So sorry! I tricked y'all." There was more laughter, Brenda was good with crowds and always knew how to put them at ease.



"So," Brenda turned to look at Mike, "Here. We. Go."



To the onlookers it seemed like decent match, at first. Brenda was 5' 9' and Mike was 5' 11', their body size seemed relatively similar, and of course he was a man and she was a woman. But upon closer examination, things were not even, not equitable. Mike had big, fatty, undefined arms where his blub shook every time he moved, Brenda's arms were massive and ripped with very little body fat. Mike had his hairy beer belly sticking out, looking pregnant. Brenda had her solid and compacted 6-pack. It didn't take a fitness expert to know it, but her body put his to shame. It was as if she had been preparing her whole life for this fight and Mike had just rolled out of bed and was told he only had a few days to train.



"Ready?" Brenda asked Mike.



"I am if you are."



Mike figured this would be more like a dance than anything else. Brenda had said this was a "demonstration", so he would show he could fight. Show the crowd he had moves and knew what he was doing. He doubted anyone was getting hurt, especially being a mixed gender fight. And he didn't want to get in trouble with the law for beating up a woman or whatever they could accuse him of if things went astray. He looked over to see Lori standing next to the SNL ladies, watching intently and hoped at the very least she would be impressed. She seemed to be the only person at the party that was somewhat friendly to him and wasn't a complete snob.



Brenda and Mike put their hands up and started to circle each other. Brenda's icy stare was unwavering and boring right through Mike, he could tell she was taking this fight very seriously.

Almost in slow motion he executed a somewhat graceful high kick at Brenda's face and she comfortably avoided it. Then he kicked with the other leg and threw punches, hooks in different styles and techniques he had used in his previous fights or had seen on YouTube. None of his "strikes" had much power, he was just showing he had the moves. Brenda played along with the dance and gracefully blocked and parried his offense and mostly stayed on the defense. She made a few fluid kicks and quick jabs, making contact a few times, but nothing too powerful.



Mike repeated himself with another volley of punches and kicks. Brenda knew he still wasn't taking the fighting seriously. Nothing to hurt her or to gain points if this was a competition. But Brenda wanted to change this, slowly. 



She began her own offensive with a quick high kick that Mike narrowly dodged. Then came a few powerful swings to his head, which again he just missed. Brenda smirked, and Mike could tell she had deliberately kicked and punched him faster and with more power than he had done.



People were starting to get engaged and some in the crowd took out their phones and began to record the event. The SNL ladies had set their drinks down and watched intensely with hands over their mouths.



Mike stuck with his strategy of demonstration, showing off his moves and quickness as a fighter and letting Brenda take the lead as to how intense this was actually going to be. He threw a right hook left hook then uppercut punch combo. Brenda dodged the hooks and let her abs absorb his punch to her stomach. She barely felt it, but again, she knew he was not taking this seriously. Time to change that.



Brenda exactly mimicked his combo and her powerful first punch bruised his left cheek. Then her gut punch made impact.



Mike was taken aback, a few of the women in the crowd shouted "Go Brenda! You got this babe!"



He came at her with a fast and wild high kick meaning to smash her face, but she avoided it. Then came a strong and powerful gut punch of his own into her abs, but it phased her only slightly. Frustrated and confused about his innocuous attack, Brenda took advantage of his distraction and manhandled his arm throwing him several feet across the blue mat. 



All that could be heard was the weird ambient music of men crying from below.



"I hear crickets..." said Kara laughing.



Mike quickly got to his feet and taking his cue from what she had just done he tackled her around the waist, driving her down to the mat with him on top. What started as a dance had now become something like wrestling and very physical. But then Brenda quickly broke out of his hold and got on top of Mike. She held him down with her thighs around his legs and her arms holding out each of his arms to the side. The weight alone of her thighs made it very hard for him to move. Things started to feel out of place for Mike as he looked at her large breasts and smelled her perfume and tried his best not to get an erection.



For the first time Brenda actually smiled at Mike and then winked. Mike began raising and rotating his hips up and down to unsteady Brenda's balance. Eventually she lost her dominant position and he was able to get up on his feet. 



Again Mike grabbed Brenda's midsection and took her down to the ground where they wrestled until Brenda got behind Mike and wrapped her tree-trunk thighs around his waist and quickly got him in a chokehold with her right arm. 



"Fuck!" Mike yelled. He looked down and saw Emily Dickinson's face on Brenda's arm staring at him. He noticed one of Brenda's veins was enlarged from her exertion and it seemed to make Emily's forehead protrude outwards.



Brenda increased the pressure around his ribs with her thighs and Mike could feel them start to bend. He hit the floor with his hand three times in quick succession.

Brenda got off of him and slowly did a double bicep flex.



"Not bad, huh?" said Brenda to the crowd.



The Saturday Night Live ladies clapped and shouted out like they were at a rock concert. This was what they had come to see.



Some in the crowd felt a little uneasy because it seemed this fight had now gotten serious. Mike was still laying on the ground catching his breath and they could tell he was frustrated and surprised at the turn of events.



Slowly Mike got back up and Brenda turned around to continue the fight. Mike was perspiring heavily and had to clear the sweat from his eyes. He began to circle Brenda. His ego needed a successful hit, this was not a competition but clearly she was "winning" the fight.



He yelled out and started throwing wild punches and kicks, all designed to inflict real damage. But Mike was getting tired and predictable and Brenda easily avoided any harm from his attack.



Mike took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure when Brenda with expert precision smashed his nose with a right hook, breaking it. Brenda then head-butted him, Mike was in daze and walked around wobbling, trying to regain his balance. Brenda went in for the kill and battered his face with severe and overwhelming blows. Blood was coming out of his nose, his right eye was swollen shut and the next strike knocked him out.



"Holy shit!" cried out Lori. She had no idea it would be this easy for Brenda. "Is there a doctor in the house?" Everyone was either smiling or humanely concerned for this injured man. One of the guys went to Mike, got down on one knee and gently shook him, trying to get him to come to.



Kara said to Jodi, "OMG. Are you wet yet? Damn!"



Jodi was in a state of shock, her hand over her mouth not knowing what to say.



"This shit has gotten real!!!" said Zoe as she began texting a friend what was going on.



Marissa became inspired, "Brenda isn't the only one here with some impressive guns," she said and took off her stylish blazer and started flexing her big biceps in her white t-shirt. Some in the crowd clapped and Brenda shouted, "You're looking so good girl! God damn!"



Mike eventually came to and on instinct got right back on his feet and began swinging his arms, readying himself for a new round, ignoring the immense pain he felt, ignoring his sense of panic. Things like this were not supposed to happen to him. In a split-second a wide vista of an uncertain and humiliating future as a man came crashing down on him, piercing his ego.



Brenda smiled, "You really want some more?"



Mike came at her charging, but now he was sluggish and uneven. Brenda humored him by letting him throw wild blows and attempt showy MMA moves. But after a minute Brenda grabbed his arms and held them apart, like a mother would do to a child who is fighting. He stumbled backwards a few feet, but Brenda kept her hold when all of a sudden she let go of his left arm and grabbed his right arm and violently twisted it behind his back. She had full control of his elbow, shoulder and wrist and Mike could tell she had the ability to break his arm. Brenda, in her huskiest voice which she had practiced over the years started whispering in Mike's ear. 



Mike tried to break free, but had to be careful given his compromised situation. Brenda then scanned the crowd, Lori, Kara and the SNL ladies were holding their breath in suspense, they all felt this to be a climax. The man who had checked on Mike earlier looked concern and put his hand over his mouth, raised his eyebrows and looked at Brenda as if to say "Isn't this a bit much?" Brenda then looked at Mike's sweaty and stinky hair right in front of her. In that moment she made up her mind and broke his arm.


Mike's ruined arm fell to his side and he looked at it in shock. Brenda then elbowed his face, sending him back down to the mat.



She again got back on top of him.



Mike looked up to see her face. Whereas she was smiling before she now looked indifferent, bored, almost disappointed. He saw her large breasts move up and down with her steady breathing, her large nipples jutting out. He reached up to touch them when Brenda immediately slapped his hand away and ferociously smashed his face in.








7.



Hours later and the party was over. Everyone seemed to be gone and the ambient music had finally stopped. The first floor of the loft was dark save for a few night lights along the bottom of the walls. With his right arm in a sling Mike limped towards the foyer and the front door to leave. His face was covered in bruises and welts. He could only see with his left eye as his right eye was completely swollen shut. The man in the crowd who had shown concern for Mike had run over to Walgreens and bought the sling. He wanted Mike to go to the hospital, but Mike was too proud and refused, saying he would probably go in the morning. The man had said goodbye to Mike, told him to take care, and left him sitting alone in the bathroom on the fourth floor. For over an hour Mike didn't move from the toilet and just stared ahead, at a wall.



When Mike finally got to the front door, he thought he heard footsteps, movement. He looked around the dark foyer and saw nothing. He checked his phone: 10:20 pm. It seemed too early for everyone to had left the party. Who was still here? Was it Lori?



As Mike opened the front door Brenda emerged from darkness wearing nothing but a white t-shirt and black panties and with her left arm shooting straight out slammed the door shut. Her big and wide tattooed forearm sat right in front of Mike's face, unmoving.



"You're not going anywhere honey."



Brenda seized him in a bear hug and lifted him off the ground. He felt pressure on his broken arm and the pain was immense. Twisting his waist and weakly kicking with his suspended lower body, he tried to find some momentum to break free, but then she compressed inwards and again he felt his ribs bend. Squeezing harder two of his ribs cracked and he shouted out. His face then fell on her shoulder and he looked away to the faint lights along the wall. 



"Fuck you," Mike was able to sputter out, he then lifted his head from her shoulder and with his one good eye looked directly into her brown eyes. His head and body shook, defiant, unable to give up, "Go...fuck yourself."



Brenda exerted a tremendous amount of force and shouted out. They both shook as if an explosion was imminent—then an awful tearing of bone. A sound one doesn't hear often in nature. 



Mike's ribs started to poke into his lungs and he coughed up blood on Brenda's white shirt. With disgust Brenda violently threw him against the wall. He crumbled to the floor and she grabbed his foot and pulled him into the guest room.



Brenda dragged Mike to in front of the bed and let go of his foot. The room was dark except for a tall floor lamp next to the bed, which gave off a warm, orange glow and projected Brenda's massive shadow looming over the injured man. The statue of Medusa looked down at Mike with mockery and disgust. At the edges of the room stood Kara, Lori and Jodi. Next to them Marissa and Zoe sat in the armchairs around the coffee table. The bay window had been covered with a black shroud. They all watched silently. 




Brenda easily ripped open her white t-shirt. She was not wearing a bra and her breasts stood large and upright. She pulled Mike up by his hair and steadied him with one hand, after a moment he stood up by himself, hunched over and holding in his stomach with his one good arm. 



Brenda shoved his face into her cleavage. At first the breasts felt good to Mike, the nipples poking into his cheek providing an odd sensation that was somehow comforting, motherly. He got hard, but her flesh kept smothering his nose and mouth until he was finding it hard to breath. Just as darkness begin to overtake him she removed his head from her chest. Brenda's eyes opened wide and she smiled while watching him gasp and take in deep breaths.



"Lemme go...please...."



Brenda viciously shoved him down on the bed and jumped on his chest.  She tore open his flannel shirt and buttons went flying to the floor. 

Cracking her knuckles, twisting her head around again to warm up--she let loose--abandoning herself to the moment and what she felt she had to do.



Switching between both arms she rained down blow and after blow on his face. First his jaw broke, then his left eye was swollen shut. Blood was all over the bed, on his chest, on Brenda's abs and breasts. Brenda noticed her hulking shadow on the wall rising up and down from the physical exertion and flexed, the silhouetted peaks of her biceps touching the chin of Medusa.



Mike passed out again and this made it easier for Brenda to get his jeans and boxers off. Brenda then took off her panties and laid on top of him. Planting her elbows on the sides of his chest, she gently slapped his face to wake him up. 



Nothing happened and she had to slap him harder until he came to. 



"You better get hard for me real fast bud."



Brenda stroked his penis, but this only got her so far. She then crawled downward and sucked him off. Due to his condition it took a awhile but eventually he got hard and she quickly impaled herself on his erection, slowly going up and down, controlling the rhythm.



"Yes yes mommy like...mommy like."





Kara, Zoe, Jodi and Marissa were in silent reverence. Not daring to interrupt the scene. Lori couldn't control herself and had one hand covering her face while the other hand was underneath her tight jeans.




Brenda was getting tired of being on top and with remarkable agility given her size she grabbed Mike in a tight hug, compacted their bodies together and quickly flipped Mike on top of her. His penis came out of her momentarily but she quickly stuffed it back in.



A few minutes later and Brenda felt the sexual crescendo and the endorphins closing in from down below and knew what she had to do. As his semen entered her cervix she scissored her thighs around his midsection and squeezed with every ounce of her being. Brenda roared, shouted, bellowed—as if giving birth.




Brenda removed her body from under his and lay next to him. The deformed and injured man lay face down on the bed wheezing and doing his best to take in much needed air. She flipped him over and slowly ran her hand down his hairy chest, over the broken ribs down to the dark red and purple spots where shards of his broken pelvis had pierced his skin. His flaccid penis was covered in seminal fluids, blood. 



Lori stepped forward, "I think it's time." 



Brenda got off the bed, stood up, put her hands on both sides of Mike's head and lifted his entire body up in the air. She wedged his face between her breasts and wrapped her monstrous muscular arms around his skull and pressed inward.  He could barely stand and Brenda had to hold most of his weight up with his head.  Out of desperation he tried biting with his mangled and broken jaw, Brenda quickly grabbed his testicles and threatened to squash them and the biting stopped.



Mike shouted, yelped, gave off his final energy. She held it while Zoe and Jodi had to look away, finally starting to feel some guilt, some complicity. This wasn't hot anymore to them. It was just execution, torture, murder. Maybe it was all a mistake.



Lori couldn't help but watch as she had fantasized and dreamed about this scenario often over the last year. Kara couldn't take her eyes off the scene out of morbid curiosity and fascination. She was witnessing real body horror. But was it comic? 



The body finally stopped moving.



"Is it over?" Lori asked. 



Brenda checked Mike's pulse, nodded and dumped the corpse unceremoniously on the floor.

[davidwatts]

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[Dona Fell Friz]

Fucking awesome!

[davidwatts]

Thank you so much.

[Dona Fell Friz]

Excellent detail and tone throughout. How much better "unceremoniously" reads than "like a sack of rice." Where can we find more of your writing?

[davidwatts]

This is the first time I've taken writing erotica seriously.  I've written other stories too.

Thanks again!  It means a lot to me that someone cares about my writing.  I spent some time on it and I do plan on writing a sequel. 

[brave_archer]

While I'm not into the gore, this is undeniably a very hot and well-written story and I'd love to read more from you. K+!

[Dona Fell Friz]

This is the first time I've taken writing erotica seriously.  I've written other stories too.

Thanks again!  It means a lot to me that someone cares about my writing.  I spent some time on it and I do plan on writing a sequel.

A sequel would be wonderful!

[Raffman]

Love this ,it's great.

[allegend]

Woow good capasitive for description and narrative, but kill to inocent man no have nothing interesant. Hopefully they give Brenda what she deserves.