Author: [lauraflex] Confessions of a Muscular Woman

[BBL]

Confessions of a Muscular Woman
by lauraflex

Chapter One. How I came to know Ted.

This story contains violence and sexually explicit material and should
only be read by adults.

This is my account of a truly wonderful and yet also very sad and
unhealthy relationship. By telling about my physical and psychological
development, I hope to somehow come to terms with my emotions. I want
to disclose at the outset that I realize how vain and selfish some
parts of my story must seem. I'm trying to be as honest and transparent
as I can possibly be. I've dedicated my life to building my body. I
feel like I'd be doing a disservice if I didn't say exactly what I
think and how I feel; especially in regard to how I view myself. I will
try to be as descriptive as possible in order that you may accompany me
on this very personal journey. I welcome your respectful questions and
helpful comments.

In writing this, I am formally admitting the challenges that lay ahead.
I have no idea if this process will help. All I really know is that I
need to find a better way of sharing myself with my boyfriend, Ted, and
that I love him very much...

I guess I should probably start with a little about my background,
about how I met Ted, and about how I came to be the person that I am
today.

I've always been a curious and energetic person, blessed in many ways.
My parents taught me to value all of life's pleasures and experiences.
I grew up in a wonderful and nurturing environment in which my brother
and sisters and I where encouraged to learn and explore from an early
age.

As a young girl, I remember being more physically active than anyone I
knew. My mother had been an Olympic swimmer, and she particularly loved
to see my interest in physicality and exercise. Thanks to my parent's
beliefs and the ripple effects of title IX, it seemed natural for me to
pursue sports with as much intensity as any of the boys at my small
school. I grew up in a fairly liberal northern California community,
and so no "official" objections where raised when I decided to try out
for the traditionally male soccer team. Soccer had been my absolute
favorite activity from a very young age. The varsity coach appreciated
my skill, size, and athleticism, and even encouraged me to try out. I
became one of only two girls to play for the team, and was awarded a
starting position my freshman year.

When I was growing up, my mom never hesitated to tell me about how hard
it had been for her as a young athlete. When she was a girl, for a
female to dream of one day becoming an Olympian was still considered a
fairly outrageous idea. As I became older and started to experience the
world for myself, instead of rolling my eyes at her stories, I really
began listening to her and thinking critically about what she was
telling me. Trying out for the school team didn't seem like that big of
a deal at the time, but I now fully realize how lucky I am. I want to
express my eternal gratitude to mom and to all the women of her
generation for the bodily freedom that I now enjoy. She always made
sure that I was aware of the long road she had traveled, and I have so,
SO much respect and love for her and for all feminists who came before
me. I have since dedicated my life to helping all women advance in this
ongoing journey. I even recognize that my current relationship reflects
this ethos and is a direct result of conscious choices that I've made.
I guess on some level I can accept that. I only hope that by living my
life in such a way as to be completely true to myself and to everything
I thought I was raised to believe, that I haven't become truly lost.

Anyway, it seems like soccer and studying took up all of my time in
those early years. I liked school, always striving for good grades, and
I LOVED soccer, even soccer practice. As a result, I think I had a
really hard time relating to boys in the "normal" ways that I would see
and hear about from other girls. A lot of it had to do with the fact
that I had absolutely no free time to hang out at the mall or go to
movies, but there was also this sense that boys had no idea how to
react to me. I had a good friend named Robbie on my soccer team (he's
gay but at the time was completely in the closet). He told me things
that the older guys said in the locker room. They would call me a
"stud" and say creepy stuff about how I was unfeminine because of my
athletic ability. This really made me sad and upset because to my face,
the guys totally acted like they where my friends, but then when they
where alone they denigrated and disrespected me. I couldn't understand
why they would do this. On the field, I felt like I was really an
important and valued member of the team. I thought I had forged a bond
of respect and equality with almost all of my teammates as we
experienced the thrills and agonies of each season. But then when the
game was over, these same guys turned two-faced, treating me like I was
a freak and totally inferior. This left me unsure of boy's true
motives. With one wonderful exception, I didn't trust guys at all for
many years. I pretty much withdrew socially, never went to parties, and
generally only hung out with a few of the other brainy kids from my
classes.

At least I knew that on the field I had everyone's respect.  Being
genetically gifted (I was 5'9" when I was 15, and weighed 148 lbs) and
single minded in my dedication and training, I easily assumed a
leadership role.  I was defensive player of the year for 3 straight
years, and helped our team reach the state championships my junior
year.  I think there was a lot of jealousy involved in the guy's secret
loathing, and I can understand it far better now. Looking back, it's
easier to see how petty and naturally insecure boys are. I now
understand that because of the society we live in, it is still
implicitly unacceptable for a woman to excel physically when competing
directly with men. We have long since proved ourselves intellectually,
but when it comes to physicality we are still expected to demure; to
play fewer sets, to use a smaller ball, or to drive from a closer tee.
This never made any sense to me and simply didn't coincide with my own
experience of reality. From an early age, I recognized the illogic of
this mindset and the injustice of this perceived "natural" order. Why
would I ever want to be a cheerleader when I could be the one scoring
the goal? Thank god I had the support and encouragement of my parents,
and that I knew deep down that I was actually an attractive, and
intelligent person. I absolutely LOVED soccer and the positive
reinforcement of athletic performance.

My parents are both Scandinavian, and so I guess I hail from rather
hearty stock. I have long blond hair (which I usually wear in a
ponytail) and dark blue eyes. I usually wear mascara to accentuate my
eyes, but I don't require a lot of other makeup. My genes give me a
naturally thick build, and my chest is rather busty. I've never really
had a problem burning fat because of my history of aerobic
conditioning, and my body and limbs add quality muscle easily. As a
young girl, I could see that the face gazing back at me in the mirror
would be considered pretty or even beautiful. I have high cheekbones, a
small "button" nose, and full red lips. My fair skin has always been
tanned thanks to time spent outside. My extended family, and my
parent's friends especially, would tell me that I was such a "stunning"
or "remarkable" girl. Whenever we went on vacations, strangers (mostly
creepy older men) would hit on me and say how attractive they thought I
looked. I always shrugged this off and did my own thing. I was just too
busy with sports to even care that much about my newfound sexuality,
and my interactions with boys had left me so unfulfilled that I never
felt compelled to dress provocatively or to flaunt my "good looks".
Instead, I chose to concentrate on soccer and to do everything I could
to further my game.

When I was 14, my dad bought my older brother a bunch of weights and
set them up in the basement. Sometimes, my younger sisters and I
watched my brother and his best friend Ted workout. I grew intrigued by
the changes I saw possible through such seemingly simple motions. My
brother was a natural, and he quickly progressed way beyond where he
started. Ted was a cute but awkward skinny-guy who liked to joke around
a lot about his lightweight build. Though Ted was fairly tall, I was
easily 10 pounds heavier than him even after they had been training for
many months. Still, Ted came over a couple of times a week and
eventually I noticed his chest and shoulders starting to harden and
gain shape. Sometimes I thought Ted had a crush on me, but never having
had a boyfriend, I was completely inexperienced at reading a guy's
behavior. My brother told me once that Ted thought I was a total
goddess, but Ted never flirted with me at all and seemed somewhat
uncomfortable when I was around. I told my brother to shut up and
thought he was just giving me a hard time. I didn't find Ted
threatening or duplicitous at all because he never tried to cover up
how unsure he was of himself. At practice, the older guys constantly
bragged to each other about how potent they where sexually, or how they
had seduced this or that girl. But Ted was totally different. He liked
to talk to my brother about the books he was reading, and I never heard
a chauvinistic remark cross his lips. Though he was very shy, if I
approached Ted and started to chat, he would eventually tell me a joke
or say something cleaver that made me laugh and laugh. I had seen Ted
on the sidelines with my brother at a few of my games, and he always
complimented me on how well I played. I was fascinated by how smart Ted
was, and started to have pangs of romantic feeling for him whenever he
came over. It was total puppy love, and I found myself grinning from
ear-to-ear when I saw Ted in the halls at school. Unfortunately, Ted
was cursed genetically with a rather slender body type. He had a really
hard time gaining any mass or density no matter how hard he tried. My
brother told me that this bothered Ted a lot, but to me it was somehow
endearing and added to his allure.

One summer, my mom "suggested" to my brother that he let me give
weightlifting a try because she thought it would help me with soccer.
My brother grudgingly accepted, and let me workout with him whenever
Ted didn't show up. Because I had been watching their training routine,
it was easy for me to hit the ground running. After the first few
weeks, I was lifting heavier than Ted had been. My brother kept this a
total secret; he knew it would hurt his friend's feelings if he found
out. Because of Ted's naturally narrow shoulders, thin arms, and skinny
legs, he had reached a plateau in his training and grew discouraged.
Ted and my brother remained really good friends, but eventually Ted
stopped coming over to workout altogether. I still saw Ted, but not
nearly as frequently. I remember thinking about Ted a lot during that
time. I got the sense that Ted somehow knew that I had replaced him as
my brother's training partner. I recognized something slightly
different in Ted's face when he saw me- the glimmer of a shared,
unspoken knowledge. I felt a great amount of guilt. My brother quickly
grew to prefer lifting with me because of my superior strength and
fiery passion. My love of soccer and my desire to improve my game
fueled every rep. In turn, I totally motivated my brother and
challenged him every day to match my intensity. In my mind, I told
myself that Ted just didn't have it in him, and that he wasn't a
natural athlete; this was just the way it had to be, and there was
nothing that could be done about it. But my heart told me otherwise. I
wanted to talk to Ted, to share my feelings with him. I wanted to
apologize and tell him that he was such a great person; that he was so
smart and funny that he shouldn't worry about what everyone else
thought. Deep down, more than anything else, I longed for his approval
and wondered how he really felt about me.

Then came a huge shock. Ted's mom worked for a large corporation and
was transferred out East. It all happened so quickly that the impact of
this news barely had time to register. I remember the night Ted came
over to say goodbye to our family. Every detail is etched into my
brain. I didn't go downstairs with everyone else, just to see if Ted
would really try to find me before he left. When I heard a knock at my
door, I was elated. It was the first time Ted had ever come up to my
room. There was electricity in the air. The instant I saw him, I knew
that I meant a great deal more to Ted than I had imagined. He looked
serious, and sad; his face told me that he didn't want to have to say
goodbye.

Ted was wearing a red shirt and jeans. He entered rather sheepishly as
I glanced up from the textbook I had been reading on my bed. I was
studying for a calculus quiz, dressed for comfort in an old pair of
umbros and a sweatshirt. Lying on my stomach, my golden legs where
bare. My large, well-developed calves bulged as I absentmindedly rolled
my ankles behind me, stretching out my tired muscles after a long day
of practice. Ted tried to make small talk about my next game, but I
could tell he was completely distracted. He kept looking around the
room at my posters and at the books on my bookshelf, everywhere but at
me.

Ted began to say something, then stopped. I knew he was searching for
the right words, but was having a difficult time expressing his
emotions. As Ted fumbled for a way to verbalize his feelings, his eyes
panned across the room. I watched his gaze finally settle somewhere
just behind me.

I decided I had better go first; I'd just tell Ted what a huge crush I
had on him. No... I'd, attempt a joke: something to break the tension.
I would try to clear the air and put us both a little more at ease...

But then, ever so slowly, Ted's expression began to change. He suddenly
turned a light shade of red. He trailed off mid-sentence, totally
seizing up. He stood absolutely still and just stared, transfixed. It
was like he had entered another world, now oblivious to our attempted
conversation. Alarmed, I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting to
see a burglar at the window. There was nothing. Again I looked at Ted,
this time following the vector of his gaze. After a few seconds, it
finally dawned on me. Ted was focused intently on the motion of my
calves, slowly flexing, then relaxing again behind me.

I couldn't believe it. For the first time in my life, I experienced the
true impact my body was capable of having on another person. Shocked, I
studied Ted's impuissant expression. All thoughts of goodbye vanished
from the room. In their place, I felt an almost animalistic type of
reckoning... as if Ted were a gazelle, frozen in place by the sudden
appearance of a hulking lioness. By simply displaying my body in a
totally natural and uninhibited way, I had reduced a bright and
articulate person to a state of muted awe. I was as intrigued as Ted. I
slowed the motion of my left ankle to a deliberate, powerful roll. I
glanced behind me again. My calf's diamond surface bunched, and then
sprang to life. I looked at Ted. The room was dead silent as I flexed
rhythmically, save for the exaggerated rise and fall of Ted's chest. He
was mesmerized.

An eternity seemed to pass. Finally, Ted began to regain his composure.
He turned an even darker shade of crimson as he realized I had been
watching him intently. Diffident, he looked into my eyes for the first
time that night. I knew instantly that Ted sought forgiveness for his
transgression. It was so out of character, so unlike Ted to display any
kind of blatant, sexual fascination around me. I knew he felt
incredibly ashamed. He was searching for an out, a pass. His eyes
pleaded with me, begged me to release him from his torture.

I suppose I could've pretended that I hadn't noticed his ogling. I
could have let the whole incident pass between us, ever so briefly
acknowledged, then forgotten. But for some reason I didn't. Inside me,
a switch had been flipped. Suddenly, I was another person. I felt
emboldened by the newfound power Ted's reaction to my body had
elicited. I locked eyes with Ted, and returned his gaze. I smiled
confidently. I held him captive in my sights. Just viewing my powerful
calves had completely overwhelmed Ted. I felt tremendous and
intoxicated while Ted seemed to whither and shrink under the floodlight
of my scrutiny. Unrelenting, I stared at Ted, into him, through him. It
was my very first exercise in unforgiving mastery.

Ted has told me that at that very moment, when we where both still so
young, he immediately realized the idea of struggle would have been
senseless and utterly futile. He felt as if he were drowning in the
middle of a vast ocean, and had no choice but to quickly surrender, to
accept my will. Lost in my eyes, our true inner-selves embraced for the
first time. My dominant yin powerfully enveloped his submissive yang.
His demeanor changed. He looked stunned, tranquilized. He no longer
cared for anything in the world. Vanquished, he finally blinked, and
then slowly looked down at his feet. Minutes passed. He was broken. I
knew he could still feel my cold blue eyes boring into him like lasers,
and this added to his complete humiliation.

Then, seemingly from miles away, a sound echoed up the stairs. I
whipped my head toward its source, glaring at the door in a flash of
uncomprehending anger. I realized that it was my brother; he was
calling for Ted. My bubble of absolute power was burst, my dominion
intruded upon. I felt Ted's eyes once again; sensed him regarding me
with wonder. But by the time I could refocused my attention, Ted had
turned toward the sound of my brother's growing voice. Released from
his bondage, Ted trembled slightly, as unsure of himself as an
abandoned puppy. He looked sick to his stomach, but seemed to regain a
sliver of life as he reacquainted himself with his surroundings. Before
I could say anything, Ted's hand was on the doorknob. I heard my
brother, now bounding up the stairs. Cold hard reality had reasserted
itself. My heroic confidence was shattered, in its place, a creeping
despair. Ted's footsteps were erratic as he stumbled downstairs,
meeting my brother on the landing. Then, they were gone.

Looking back, I now realize I had no way of processing my true feelings
about that night. I was so young, so ill-equipped to deal with the
subsequent torrent of emotions that I had no choice but to repress the
"deviant" impulses kindled by this encounter. I largely internalized
its lessons. Fascination fused with guilt in my subconscious. Instead,
my adolescent memories of Ted consisted of fond, rosy images: the cute
and brilliant guy who I had such a crush on.

Ted has confessed to me that it was on that night so long ago, lost in
my eyes, that he comprehended my true being. I'm not sure if this is
really the case or not. I don't know if I was born with an innate
desire for ascendancy, or if this early experience helped to define the
person that I've become...

My brother kept in touch with Ted and updated me periodically on how he
was doing. Eventually though, they both went away to college and sort
of drifted apart. Ted won a scholarship to an Ivy League school, and I
had heard he was dating a bright coed from England. At first, I missed
Ted incredibly and thought of him every day. But then, inevitably, I
found myself falling in love once again.

[BBL]

Chapter Two. How I came to love myself.

This story contains violence and sexually explicit material and should
only be read by adults.

After steadily working out with my brother for a year or so, I started
to notice that my kicks where sending the ball sailing to the other end
of the field. During scrimmages, I could stand my ground more easily,
and in general, my body projected a far greater presence. Instead of
relying on my quickness, I began to control the ball by moving-off the
older guys with sheer strength and muscular exertion. I would lean into
the other players with my shoulders or ass, and dictate their every
movement. Instead of faking them out, I backed them down, and this
totally altered the way I approached the game.

Playing soccer my whole life had given me a flat, strong midsection
that accentuated my large breasts and wide hips. Years of exertion had
layered my meaty quads, glutes, and hamstrings with powerful muscle. As
a freshman I had grown accustomed to having the largest, most well
defined calves on the field (I guess I had taken their formidable
appearance for granted until my encounter with Ted).

However, session after session of lifting soon began to compound my
genetic potential, causing my arms and torso to explode with remarkable
development. In no time, I displayed a radical new look that completely
changed the way I viewed myself. My pecs, back, shoulders & neck all
took a "quantum leap" in response to my exertions. My biceps and
triceps especially amazed me. They bulged when I flexed them, with
prominent veins distending and criss-crossing organically in every
direction. I concentrated with single-minded intensity during my
workouts, blasting my biceps with an obsessive fury. Lifting channeled
all of my adolescent fears and unhappiness into the one vessel over
which I had absolute mastery. Unlike soccer, where I had to rely on
other people, lifting weights gave me all of the power and a feeling of
total control. I became addicted to seeing myself in the mirror: to
watching the ripple and flow that resulted from my efforts. Depending
on how heavily I lifted and which exercises I did, my body responded
accordingly. Each muscle group sprang to life and announced itself with
distinction. I began to realize a new world of possibilities. Building
my body became my consuming passion and began to define my life. I can
honestly say that I fell in love with my own body. I loved the look of
my newfound muscularity; I loved the feeling of increased physical
power. I began to love the new reality that I alone had created, as
other people where forced to reckon with the results of my burning
passion for building muscle. Bodybuilding felt so pure, so right, that
I surrendered myself completely to its elegant logic.

By senior year I had reached my full height of 5'11", and had bulked up
to 171 pounds. As I methodically reconstructed my physique, I also
experienced a profound psychological and emotional awakening. My quest
for muscular development started to affect every aspect of my life.
Pound-for-pound, I had crafted the most chiseled physique of anyone in
my school. My dad loved my dedication, and gladly bought more equipment
for our basement gym. In college, my brother had been lifting a lot
more cans of beer than dumbbells. We agreed to split the cost of
supplements, though I wound up taking most of them for myself. Whenever
he came home to visit, he told me how amazing my progression was and
that he was floored by my strength. I started to consume books on
nutrition and physiology and became completely engrossed in learning
about the anatomy. I gleaned lots of diet and training tricks from
muscle magazines, and mom even fixed me special high-protein meals.

My mom was ecstatic. She kept telling me how proud she was, and that
she felt so ignorant for never having realized what was possible for a
woman to achieve by simply picking up a dumbbell. I remember having
long discussions with her about the implications of the hyper-muscular
female form. We talked about what my development might mean in terms of
our patriarchal society. At 18, I had eviscerated the stereotypical
notions about women's frailty. My biceps strained the measuring tape to
16 inches, and my quads easily registered 27 inches. I started thinking
of myself as a new kind of champion for women's rights. For me,
bodybuilding became much more than just a personal lifestyle choice. It
became a philosophy. I saw myself as a champion for my gender, a new
kind of warrior. I came to regard my muscles as powerful weapons.

At the same time, I began to recognize that there were strategic
advantages to concealing one's arsenal. No matter what I wore, I looked
like a tank. I grew to prefer sweatshirts and warm-up pants, as
shopping for regular cloths presented quite a challenge.
Proportionally, I was wasp-waisted, but my massive thighs and calves
made finding jeans that fit my dimensions impossible. It didn't matter.
The anonymity granted by baggy gym cloths was actually a blessing.
Though it was obvious to anyone who knew me that I had added a
considerable amount of mass, passing strangers simply assumed me to be
overweight. One time, while in line at a cash register, I heard a guy
behind me tell his friend it was, "such a shame about that fat blond
chick," and that, "she could've been pretty hot." For some reason this
made me perversely happy, and I couldn't help but smile as I collected
my change.

By then, I really didn't care what anyone thought. My true friends
totally respected my dedication, while my expanses of sculpted flesh
confounded anyone else fortunate enough to catch a glimpse. I started
to lose interest in the game of soccer. Even though I had accepted a
full-ride scholarship from a school in Boston, I felt like playing was
taking far too much time away from lifting. I had long since begun to
measure personal achievement in increments of five and ten pounds, and
not by the wins or losses of a season. Still, the soccer field was one
of the few places I allowed my brawny limbs to make an appearance. I
started to look forward to practice for new reasons. Our coach totally
respected my dedication and years of contribution. Though I could tell
my physique startled him, he knew he could use me to his advantage, and
selected me to lead the younger players in conditioning drills while he
worked on skills with the upperclassmen.

I couldn't believe that the opinions of the guys on my team had once
bothered me so much. By now, my teammates must have thought that I was
from another planet. My umbros strained at the seams when I stretched
out my quads and hamstrings during warm-ups. As I dribbled down field,
I routinely caught guys stealing glances of my oaken calves, bulging
cartoon-like in knee-high soccer socks. A strange, nervous energy
filled the air. Robbie told me that he had picked up on this too, and
that my body was totally freaking everyone out. I sensed a palpable,
totally sexual vibe from several of my teammates. The younger player's
reactions ranged from utter humiliation to worshipful adoration as I
forced them through set after set of pushups and crunches. Freshmen
guys are simply not equipped to deal (either emotionally or physically)
with an Amazon blasting out 100 pushups in a row in front of them, and
then sweetly taunting their manhood for failing to reach 25. Before too
long, I started to realize that my body had given me total control over
their minds. My muscles had made me the Top Dog; the rest of the pack
couldn't help but to subconsciously supplicate themselves before me.

This situation stirred up intense, primordial urges. I was vaguely
aware of having felt similar twinges during my encounter with Ted, but
they seemed so remote; so distant from my new reality. It was as if I
had known Ted in another lifetime, eons ago. Since then, I had fallen
madly in love with myself. I had grown obsessive over my own body,
literally blocking everything else out. Philosophically, I had rejected
the very idea of manhood. I viewed men in general as thoughtless
oppressors, and strove to celebrate my womanhood in the physical domain
of my physique...

On the other hand, there was no way for me to deny my attraction to
cute guys. As I luxuriated in the absolute power I wielded over the
younger players, I realized that it was I who had been oppressing
myself. I had totally internalized my erotic impulses. I was still a
virgin, but for all the wrong reasons. My body needed more. I began to
realize that I could remain fanatic in my devotion as an architect,
erecting my glorious cathedral of muscle, while simultaneously
indulging the deep, lusty hunger for worshipers. As a yearning for
utter supremacy bubbled up from within, I decided it was time to
finally unleash my sexuality.

This catharsis marked the dawn of my final self-concept. For as long as
I can remember, I've adhered to a gender-neutral interpretation of
muscularity. Genetics+ proper nutrition+ single-minded intensity= a
powerful physique, regardless of gender. At the same time, I love being
a woman. I love the fact that my sturdy, feminine frame has helped to
render meaningless generations of "weaker sex" indoctrination. Weaker
sex? Nothing more than a pathetic joke told by a father to his son. My
corporeal accomplishment is manifest and I will be reckoned with. Any
man I choose will submit to basic reality: When you are with me, you
will ALWAYS be the weaker sex.

[BBL]

Next Part:


Chapter Three. Regarding Matt.

There was an adorable junior on my soccer team named Matt. Matt was a
cutup who fed off of other people's reactions to his tomfoolery. He
also happened to be a fairly skilled offensive player. Though he had
just moved to the area that year, I knew Matt had already made many
friends on the team and was highly regarded. His family was wealthy,
and his budding self-confidence coupled with an easygoing attitude
marked him as an up-and-coming leader.

Unfortunately for Matt, I was the present-day leader. Often, our coach
would have Matt join my group as I led the younger players through
their paces. He was grooming Matt to take over for me after I graduated
in the Spring. I know that Matt found my role as senior captain and
head of conditioning drills to be supremely disconcerting. By now I had
grown used to the typical symptoms of exposure to my body: a guy's
unconscious physical attraction to my extreme muscularity causing him
to alter his behaviors, forcing him towards a "strange" new place
psychologically. But Matt was harder to read...

Was Matt grappling with self-doubt, slowly realizing everything he had
been taught by his sports obsessed, corporate-titan-of-a-father was a
crock of shit? His dad was obviously a huge influence. I saw how he
behaved, stalking up and down the sidelines, ranting and raving at the
slightest provocation. I saw how he treated his wife, denigrating her
and taking her for granted. I had even heard Matt parroting his father,
disrespecting his hard working mom to her face in front of his friends.
One time I overheard Matt making fun of her for being a housewife. He
told her to "get a job" when she worried that he might be cold during
practice wearing only a t-shirt.

It must have been very hard for Matt, born and raised a classic "Alpha
Male", to cross paths with an Amazon for the first time in his life.
I'll give him credit; he played his cards far closer to his chest than
the other guys on the team. But there where clues. Furtive glances;
lingering, fascinated observation of my exertions during drills. I
could see it in his eyes. I knew his wheels where turning;
reconsidering deeply held conceptions of gender. Though I was still so
young then, still so naive in so many ways, I had begun to fully
comprehend my new place in the world... I knew that, inevitably, Matt
would find himself drawn to me, unable to escape the gravitational pull
of my celestial body.

It was obvious that Matt was infatuated with my strength. He was always
boasting in a ridiculously grandiose fashion about how he could do WAY
more pushups than me if he had really wanted to, but that he simply
didn't want to hurt my feelings. I would just smile and say something
vaguely threatening like "Keep it up..." tacitly permitting such
outbursts. Though his remarks where couched in the language of self-
deprecation, they where also meant as a challenge to my authority. Matt
was letting his buddies know, ever so subtly, that he wasn't afraid to
talk down to any woman, especially me. As the year wore on, I even
heard nasty rumors that he was mistreating some of the girls in his
grade. Though my muscles must have relentlessly eroded his assumptions-
demonstrating day after day the inexorable truth of my feminine
superiority-I sensed that I could never quite break the misogynistic
undercurrent to Matt's personality.

But Matt didn't dare expose this side of himself at practice. He played
it cool. He was laid-back and mostly docile when I was around. In fact,
he could be quite funny. Often, I found myself smiling at his antics.
He was a true politician, trying to endear himself to me while
simultaneously scoring points with his friends. Ever the impertinent
jester, he felt secure in his place on the queen's court. Matt's
contradictory attributes intrigued me. I wanted to find out what really
made him tick.

One practice, during a pushup drill, I deliberately forced Matt to
collapse at my feet. I urged him to continue doing pushups, way beyond
his limit, until he finally gave in. I slid to my knees beside him and
whispered in his ear, "I'm really proud of you Matt. I'm gonna stay
after practice for awhile... If you want, you should stick around; I
can give you a ride home." At the time, I wasn't sure exactly what I
had in mind. I guess I wanted to see how Matt's personality would
change if we where alone.

As practice came to an end, I could tell Matt was beside himself. He
had no idea what to expect. I felt exhilarated as I imagined the
thoughts that must have been racing through his mind. I watched him
stumble over his own heel as he approached his mom's BMW to let her
know he'd be staying late.

I waved innocently to Matt's mom as she pulled away. The motion of my
arm caused the sleeve of my jersey to ride up, exposing my large
protruding bicep and allowing it to absorb the final rays of the
setting sun. As Matt turned, he immediately noticed my massive, golden
arm, extended in farewell. He opened his mouth, tried to say something,
and then stopped. As I brought my arm down, I balled my fist, flexing
momentarily. My bicep exploded in response, its veiny peak bursting
with power. Matt stood, mouth agape. I had never before seen him at a
loss for words. I smiled coyly, narrowing my eyes, and stuck out my
tongue in a childish, friendly sort of way. I tapped a ball toward his
feet and asked if he was ok. "You don't miss your mom already do you?"
I chided. This caused Matt to snap-to. He smiled self-consciously and
stared at the ball as he mumbled indecipherably. I motioned towards
myself seductively with my index finger. "Grab the ball," I instructed.

As I walked toward the field, I glanced over my shoulder, only to catch
Matt's eyes glued to the methodical movement of my firm round ass. He
suddenly realized that I was looking at him and turned beat red. I felt
like the Pied Piper of Hamelin as my massive glutes lead Matt across
the field, tail between his legs. When we reached the far end of the
pitch I stopped. Next to us, a stand of gigantic evergreens jutted
towards the sky. Suddenly, I barked at Matt to pass me the ball. This
spooked him, and he reflexively belted it, as hard as he could. The
ball flew over my head and disappeared into the trees. A saccharine
smile crossed my lips. I crinkled my nose and squinted, "Hon, do you
think you could go and get that?"

Without a word, Matt immediately sprinted towards the place where the
ball had disappeared. I heard him foraging around, deep in the brush.
After several minutes, I could tell that he was becoming more and more
upset by the frenzied intensity of the crackling twigs and rustling
leaves. I was overcome by a surge of; of I don't know what- an almost
maternal longing. I realized how cute Matt was, how timid he suddenly
seemed, how desperately he wanted to please me. Perhaps he wasn't such
a bad guy after all. I decided I would go and help him look.

I spotted Matt on his knees, intently peering beneath a large bush. I
thought it might be funny to surprise him. Stealthily, I crept up from
behind, stopping about a foot away. I towered over Matt with my hands
on my hips. My 27" legs loomed over his hunched body like twin columns
of marble. I started to swoon as I realized how powerful I really was
compared to Matt. At full height, he was probably 4 inches shorter than
me and must have weighed 130 pounds soaking wet. I felt an ache in my
breast as I noted that each of my legs were nearly the size of Matt's
cute little waist.

Unsuccessful in his efforts, Matt finally leaned back to stand up. In
so doing, the back of his head brushed against the front of my right
quad. Startled, Matt wheeled around, his cheek and lips grazing the
surface of my umbros as he struggled to regain his balance. He wound up
crashing into me with his entire face and chest, my sturdy legs a brick
wall of support. Matt reflexively sought to steady himself. I smiled
down as I felt his hands groping at my quads. I knew he could feel
their massy contours beneath the nylon surface of my shorts.

Suddenly, I felt a cold hand beneath the fabric; a clammy caress, as
Matt's palm came to rest on the meat of my right thigh. Then, slowly, I
felt it begin to creep. Exploring my massive expanses of flesh, his
hand continued up and along, now daring to invade the sanctity of my
inner thigh. I couldn't help but flex in response to this intrusion.
Matt trembled as he felt the shift; tectonic plates of interlocking
muscle springing to life. Suddenly desperate, his small hand clawed at
my leg. He tried to shore up his grip, but to no avail. He pin wheeled
backwards, winding up splayed out on his butt, a look of utter terror
on his face. This reaction caused my smile to broaden as I suddenly
felt my power surging. I studied his face carefully.

Matt's expression slowly changed. The brief glimmer of fear had
morphed into desire as he processed what had happened. He looked greedy
and self-satisfied. His stupid grin betrayed him; this pathetic attempt
to cop a feel was fully intentional. The cat was out of the bag; he was
clearly turned-on by my muscularity. But like a true son of privilege,
he now expected cart blanc exploration of his newfound fetish. I
couldn't believe it. Well used to his good looks and sly personality
getting him out of jams, Matt took everything for granted. Like a child
caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he acted like he had done
nothing wrong. He thought he was simply being naughty, and assumed that
I would welcome such advances. His sickening demeanor spoke volumes. He
was preparing to continue on with his groping session.

I was appalled. It was apparent that Matt viewed my body as nothing
more than a prop, a set piece on the stage of his imagination. He
actually thought I had dedicated countless hours of my life building
this Temple in an effort to fulfill HIS fondest fantasies and desires.
My mind shifted into overdrive as I contemplated the situation. To him,
I was nothing more than an exotic toy; a wet-dream-come-true. How small
and pathetic. Matt wanted this encounter. He wanted a story to regale
his friends with; about the day he went into the woods with Laura after
practice, about how he had tamed the mighty Amazon. I started to feel a
seething anger. Still, I smiled. I decided I should give Matt a lot
more of what he wanted.

[biggerisbetter]

This is one of the best (if not the best one) and most erotic female muscle stories I have ever read in my life. I love the way she is slowly discovering her sexuality. I love that she is so much bigger and superior to the skinny guys. I love the descriptions of what guys feel when they fall under her spell. She is becoming a goddess. I can not wait until she meets Ted again (I hope she will be much over 200 pound in that moment . If I knew English good enough to write a female muscle story that describes my deepest dreams, it would be like that one. Chapeau bas.

[BBL]

Thanks guys, here you go - next part!

Chapter Four. Close Encounters of the Quad Kind.

I stepped forward, imposing my bulky right quad upon Matt once again. I
hitched up my shorts, fully revealing the golden mass, the object of
his desire, this time within inches of his face. Then, ever so slowly,
as I smiled down on him with my hands at my hips, I shook-out the
deeply striated mass of flesh, allowing the ponderous muscle to travel
back and forth on the front of my femur in a hypnotic, pendulous
motion. I'll never forget the look on little Matt's face, it had become
warped- a strange mixture of fear, subjugation, and extremely erotic
longing. His eyes where like saucers; his pupils fully dilated. He
studied the corded surface; the striations of beef moving back and
forth right under his nose. For several minutes I allowed the display
to continue, a divine demonstration of minute control.

I alone had summoned forth this mighty tsunami of flesh; I alone was in
command, exerting absolute mastery over the hulking muscle. To drive
home this lesson, I suddenly pointed my toe and flexed hard, as hard as
I possibly could. The powerful muscle immediately snapped to attention
in a golden explosion of sinew. An inert, monolithic slab of granite
replaced the organic, kinetic wave. It was enormous, dwarfing Matt's
head and shoulders. Motionless, it radiated like a nuclear warhead, its
former dynamism now frozen into a titanic reservoir of potential
energy.

"Well, what do you think?" I demanded, my fury now showing itself, "Is
this what you really want?" I held my enormous leg close, challenging
him. I could feel his warm breath on my skin. "Well, go ahead, I'm all
yours," I commanded sarcastically, "Take me, show me what you can do.
I've heard that you're quite the ladies man, Matt, so please, you were
about to show me how its done."

I delivered these words with such venom that I honestly scared myself.
At that moment, I really didn't know what I was capable of, but I could
feel my anger boiling my blood. I knew my face projected this inner
rage. I felt unhinged. I had become a banshee, railing against
centuries of patriarchy.

Poor Matt. He was nothing more than a surrogate; a hapless soul who had
found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Had I not been so
irate, I might have seen this. I might have seen him as he truly was:
insecure, weak, struggling to fit in and make friends like everyone
else, desperate to please his overbearing father. But it was too late.

My display was way too much for him; his impudence had been erased. He
was puny. Curled-up in a ball, his whole body could have fit within the
massive space that my quad now demanded. Emasculated, he didn't dare
lift a finger. His proximity to this colossal engine of power, coupled
with my killer glare and sharp tone, had really frightened him.
Instead, he did something I hadn't expected at all. He did the only
thing that he could do. He began to cry. Huge tears welled up in his
eyes, then tumbled down his cheeks. I felt them as they fell on my leg,
warm and wet, creating tiny rivulets as gravity tugged at them. They
traced the furrows and striations of muscle, trickling down the side of
my knee, and then disappearing into the spongy elastic material of my
sock just above the mighty flare of my massive calf. He began gasping
for air as he silently wept. The tears fell like raindrops. Fascinated,
I watched it all, never even imagining such a pathetic sight could
exist.

As if his uncontrollable blubbering weren't enough, Matt then proceeded
to reach down, grabbing for his crotch with both hands, and commenced
pawing at his cup. Astonished, I watched as his left hand went into his
shorts and then inside of his jock strap. Apparently, he was desperate
to find a way of relieving the pressure from the suddenly raging
erection that was now grinding itself into his athletic supporter.
Shamelessly, he grabbed at himself, jiggling his cock as he wept. Like
some sort of lowly, servile beast, he tugged and he rubbed as he
cowered on the ground before me. Matt, the alpha male, was trembling in
fear, quivering with longing.

My somatic response to this position of absolute power was involuntary
and automatic. I felt my adrenaline dump. Instantly it coursed through
my veins, bathing my muscles in its potent hormonal brew. Ancient,
predatory juices flowed: evolutionary instincts surged through my body,
gripping me in their antediluvian embrace. I felt myself becoming
aroused, the wetness of Matt's tears on my quad suddenly matched by the
wetness of my sex. Time slowed to a crawl. As the adrenaline pumped, my
heart pounded like a jackhammer; it was a kettledrum in my ears.

Then, just as quickly, my body's metabolic processes slipped gears. The
furious anger subsided, giving rise to a carnivore's steely confidence.
A huntress, my prey well in hand, I was now awash in the epinephrine's
mediating effects; simultaneously lowering my ire while triggering wave
after wave of intense, sexualized hunger pangs.

I watched in amazement as the veins of my outstretched right leg
distended, swelling further, adding ever more rugged features to my
quadriceps's topography. Between blurry tears, with this roiling
organic surface now centimeters from his nose, Matt too experienced the
physiological change of my body. He had no choice. He stopped touching
himself now, quickly withdrawing his hands from his pants. Instead he
clutched, white-knuckled, at his trembling knees.

He slouched greatly, my massive quad now completely dominating his
personal space as his face hovered just above the golden horizon of
striated beef. His bowed spine conformed unquestioningly to my leg's
volumetric requirements. His entire body seemed to be an afterthought,
a satellite in orbit around a Gaia of muscle. He was now in a trance-
like state. A pathetic, cross-legged figure, he sat motionless save for
a trickle of tears and a gelatinous quiver to his body.

Matt seemed to shrink even further into insignificance. He was now
nothing more than a speck, an ant, groveling at the base of an erupting
volcano. His fate no longer his own, my articulated flesh was the only
reality that he knew. The terrain of my quad had become his entire
universe. His only hope for survival was in becoming completely attuned
to his new ecosystem of fast-twitching fiber. I noticed a dramatic new
flair to Matt's nostrils. Like some nearly blind rodent, he followed
his nose. Almost imperceptible in his movement, he slowly traced a path
along one of my quad's mighty blue arteries, now fully engorged with
vitality. Slavishly, he sampled the feminine hormones, the warrior's
scent, bubbling up invisibly from my skin's surface.

Ultimately, it must have been this musky rush of hostile pheromones
that pushed Matt over a cliff towards new depths of despair. His eyes
again filled with tears. This time, his face carried an expression of
mortal terror so dramatic, so infinitely pathetic, that it made my
heart scream out. As a dominatrix, I was fully in the throes of my
first true reverie.

Matt's pallor had become corpselike; he was now SO pasty and stark. He
had gone into shock. The grim reality of my muscular capacity, of what
my body was truly capable of, had caused his brain to melt.
Overwhelmed, he began to hyperventilate, weeping openly, hysterically,
his chest heaving. The animalistic fear of unbridled aggression by a
far more powerful adversary had actually caused the tiny hairs on the
backs of his arms and neck to stand on end.

Words can't describe that moment in my life. It was the ultimate rush.
Ecstasy; like a virginal heroin fix. Psychologically, it was a
transcendent experience. It was a mindfuck: pure, erotic domination.
Without laying a hand on Matt, I now owned him, both mentally and
physically. We where alone in the world: subjugator and slave. I was
free to exercise unadulterated, 100 proof power in whatever way I might
choose. The "alpha" male, his golden fleece of confidence, paternal
influence, and wealth stripped away, was now a naked and defenseless
lamb, just waiting to be devoured by his mighty leonine mistress.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. The air was now rife with the
scent of timidity. It was utterly intoxicating. I could still see
Matt's weak body as plain as day; the way it trembled, the way he wept.
My subject had self-destructed when faced with my superior female form.
This thought caused my adrenaline soaked muscles to shudder. I felt an
influx of wetness down below, acutely centered between my legs. It was
a tremendous sensation, a bone jarring, full-body ache. I opened my
eyes once again to Matt's terrified male body heaving, languishing in
the mud, snot running freely from his nose, saliva pouring from his
mouth. This residue of subjugation now completely coated the fleshy
contours of my still extended right quad. Euphoric, I knew it was now
time to claim that which was rightfully mine...

[Japagreipe]

Wow! This is story is just simply amazing. I wish this story will go on for a while, because it's turning out to be one of the best stories I've ever read. I hope you'll continue to write this fantastic story! Deserves some K+

[BBL]

Chapter Five. In Which I Claim My Very First Vassal.

I reached down, my left forearm flexing, tendons rippling and aligning
themselves for action. I gripped Matt by the nape of the neck and
hoisted him aloft. A mighty colossus claiming her conquest, I dangled
my property in front of me as if he were a disobedient cat. His feet
left the ground, swinging freely. Instinctively, Matt's hands went to
my rippling forearm above his head. I could feel his small fingers
clamoring to my forearm, then on to my beefy bicep, kneading its
massive swell; the bulge of power that allowed his entire body to hang
in space, a captive of my iron grip.

The throbbing between my legs grew ever more intense. Matt's pathetic
swaying body was a total turn on. His weak little frame seemed so
inconsequential, floating in the breezes. I alone supported him,
propped him up, allowed him to continue existing. I felt utterly in
control of his body, and yet was slowly beginning to loose control of
my own. The throbbing of my vagina began to spread; it consumed me.
Lightning raced up and down my spine, from toes to fingertips. I
actually began to feel weak in the knees, my sexual desire eroding my
very base of support.

I grabbed Matt's neck with my right hand, encircling his Adam's apple,
squeezing ever so slightly as I forced him to look down into my face.
Both his hands now went to my right wrist, clenching it, terrified. I
noticed his cheeks were streaked powdery white, the leftover salt of
drying tears.

My eyes locked with his as I slowly lowered him to the ground, until he
was just standing on his tiptoes. I kept my right hand on his neck,
controlling him, forcing him to stay somewhat off-balance while relying
on my powerful arm for support. My fierce gaze pierced Matt, boring
into him like a dentist's drill.

I began walking him backwards, slowly, still on the tips of his toes,
as he clutched my wrist and swelling forearm with both hands. I backed
him up, several yards, until he came to rest against one of the
majestic redwoods. I pinned him there to the mammoth tree, exerting
just enough pressure to inform him of my absolute power.

Below my thumb, I could feel Matt's pulse racing. At that moment-I
remember it distinctly-I experienced a sense of timelessness, of deep
familiarity. In this simple, most intimate of human connections-my hand
encircling my vassal's neck-desire was no longer my own. It was as if
the need to subdue, to enforce order and discipline; the compulsion to
give a little squeeze, the way that his breath became clipped, his eyes
suddenly pleading... It was almost as if I were channeling, or divinely
inspired... as if the lesson he was learning-that his continued
existence was contingent upon nothing more consequential than a
feminine whim-was taught by a Higher Power, infinite in Her Wisdom, a
lesson delivered countless times before. I felt moved, blessed by this
beatific vision.

Cut just short, Matt's inhalations became quick and shallow beneath my
forceful grip. By the way his hands grasped at my forearm-lightly,
sheepishly exploring its flaring power-I knew he had absolutely no
intention of trying to escape. I studied him closely now, regarding him
with an ageless comprehension, with the eyes of my mothers and
grandmothers before me, through the eyes of my Amazon sisters, who have
always walked the earth.

Matt's hands gradually became more worshipful, now gentle feathers,
rubbing and massaging my forearm's dense musculature. Slicing him,
concentrating, my cold blue eyes penetrated his irises until, suddenly,
it was there... there in his beautiful brown eyes...

They had grown clear and receptive, unquestioning; it was "the moment".
He was offering up his soul for my inspection. His subservience... it
was transparent, his aura totally genuine. I have since become a master
at gauging this moment. You can always see it in the eyes. It is the
point of no return. Matt had completely given himself to me. He had
surrendered to the idea of my absolute dominance. His jaw trembled
slightly as he looked at me with a longing so singular that I knew I
had truly become his entire universe.

He was stroking and worshiping my right bicep now, his fingers
completely absorbed by its swelling power. "Please," he started to
whisper, "Oh please, please, please, Laura. I, I, I, please anything,
God, just, just please..." His voice was weak, but full of emotion.
This pathetic plea caused my whole body to shudder once more. I could
feel preorgasmic juices flowing in my panties, soaking them. "What's
that, little man?" I commanded, "What are you whining about... Just
tell me what you want." I smiled confidently, devilishly, as I relished
each word.

God, I can still hear his voice, soft and sweet, almost lyrical in its
cadence of unvarnished sincerity. "Please Laura," he whispered once
more, his teeth chattering as if he where half frozen, "You don't, you
don't understand... I, I, I, want you to, to, to... I know you...I know
you can do anything you want to me... Please, I... Take me. Take me
with your incredible muscles, your, your, your just so amazing."

The idea of being begged in such a heartfelt manner caused me to
completely lose control. I closed my eyes and shuddered violently as a
wave of orgasm racked my being. My juices now flowed freely from my
sex.

After several seconds, I had recovered enough to reopen my eyes. To my
horror, I realized that I had inadvertently squeezed Matt's windpipe
closed during my brief moments of spasm. He struggled to catch a
breath, like a fish out of water, his fingers frantic as they pried
futilely at my powerful right hand. Shocked, I quickly loosened my
grip. He gasped for air, paroxysmal, as if he had just been allowed to
resurface after being held underwater for far too long.

Matt slowly began to regain his composure. Though still languid, he
timidly looked toward my eyes once again. I allowed him a brief smile;
a small reward of acknowledgement, informing him that he had pleased
me. I reach down with my left hand, clumsily tugging at his soccer
shorts. I heard the seams rip as I urgently pulled. "Pull them down," I
commanded, "and help me with mine."

I shifted my right hand, so that I was now clutching the back of his
neck. I pushed him slightly, to remind him that I was in complete
control and that he was to immediately comply with my bidding. Matt
bent over and pulled down his pants and his jockstrap. His hands then
went to my shorts and panties. With a little struggle, he managed to
pull them over my wide hips, then slid them down the length of my leg,
slowly passing over my monumental quads and finally my bulging, diamond
calves. As Matt stood up, I saw his slender cock swinging freely. He
was of average length, but because of its proximity to my massive
quads, it looked as thin as a number 2 pencil.

I reached over and violently tugged Matt's jersey over his head. Then,
slowly, I reached down and removed my own, in the process turning my
wide back toward him. I heard a gasp, as the massive, undulating
surface and flaring lats fully spread themselves out. Turning to face
Matt once again, I hit a "most muscular" pose, causing my pecs to shred
and vasculate as my breasts danced in my sportsbra below. Seeing my
flexing musculature, now bare and invincible, caused Matt's throbbing
penis to stand bolt upright as a steady stream of pre-ejaculate flowed
from its tip.

Then, ever so slowly, I slipped my bra over my head. As I brought my
arms down, my traps sprang forward like two massive burial mounds,
positioned high on the tops of my broad shoulders, flaring
dramatically, yet merging seamlessly with my thick neck. My firm
breasts now proudly jutted forth, ridding high on my massive pecs,
dancing with every flex of my body.

We were now nude, save for our cleats and socks, our clothing
carelessly strewn about on the forest floor. The sight of our naked
bodies facing each other in the twilight-two animals of nature, alone
in her majesty, two creatures so different, and yet so alike, amidst
spiraling redwoods and flowering brush-it must have been unspeakably
beautiful. Like a mighty mountain looming over a tiny sapling, a
distant observer could have easily identified the outline of my brawny
female frame as it dwarfed my little captive, humbling his delicate
form in a ludicrous contrast of physiques.

The sweep of my wide shoulders and the flare of my lats, the pert swell
of my bosom... they where a testament to the very order of nature, they
demanded nothing of Matt's inadequate male body but absolute obedience.
I could smell the earth; I could feel the gentle breezes on my sex. The
air was cold on my vagina's wet lips...

[Frydon82]

keep it up! K+

[BBL]

Final part:

Chapter Six. In Which I Take Him.

I stepped forward, pressing myself against Matt, his back once again to
the tree. We locked eyes as I gazed down into his upturned face, his
countenance adoring yet unsure. I reached for him with both arms,
sliding my hands under his armpits, firmly grasping the gnarled bark of
the tree behind him. Then, slowly, I began walking my hands up the
tree, methodically gripping each new handhold until Matt was returned
to his tiptoes, then finally lifted off his feet. My massive biceps
swelled under his armpits as I hoisted him like a forklift. Gravity
pulled at Matt's body, his puny arms looking even more twig-like. His
biceps-starkly smaller in relief against the backdrop my veiny
meathooks-mere spindles, as I hoisted him up from below.

To alleviate the growing pressure under his armpits, Matt instinctively
wrapped his legs around my hips, just barley locking his ankles above
my massive glutes. As his face became level with my own, I stopped and
held him there, a prisoner in my meaty cell of biceps and pectoral
muscles; he was surrounded by power. Now willing to express himself
completely, he was unabashedly submissive. He began sucking and kissing
my biceps, upper chest and shoulders, worshiping their power with his
mouth and lips. His gyrations increased as he became more infatuated
with his position, his soft body straining pitifully between my arms as
he craned his neck, yearning to experience my meaty flesh with his
tongue. The sight of his subservience caused my nipples to grow hard,
digging into his skinny chest like two diamonds. Because his arms were
trapped above my shoulders, his hands automatically went to my upper
lats and traps. Matt tried embracing me in an ineffectual half hug, but
his hands barley began the journey across the mighty expanse of my
back. I could feel Matt's penis against my abs as my body pressed into
him, pinning him to the tree.

After several minutes of his frenzied tribute, I realized Matt's
adorable little mouth might continue licking and sucking every inch of
skin available to it forever. Slowly, I began to flex, squeezing my
biceps together and tensing my chest. I continued applying pressure,
slowly, deliberately ratcheting down on his ribcage. Suddenly, he
stopped sucking my left bicep and looked at my face, his rueful eyes
once again filling with fear. I smiled sweetly as I returned his gaze,
tearing into him with my piercing blue orbs. I added more pressure,
tiny increments of force, but slivers of the pulverizing power I was
capable of summoning. As his ribs strained under the pressure, his face
screwed up into a rictus of pain, his eyes informing me of his true
torment. They were sad and desperately frightened, uncomprehending. His
pitiable fear caused my heart to skip a beat.

Once I had achieved a sufficient level of pressure, causing him to cry
out and whimper in pain, I stopped and held him there, entombed in my
meaty vise. I luxuriated in his divine misery. Even as he winced and
moaned, he stared into my eyes, pining for me. He was my supplicant, my
slave, unquestioningly willing to surrender his very life to me right
then and there, in my arms, just to please me. It was more than I could
bear.

I leaned in gently with my face, pursing my lips, and kissed him
delicately on the mouth. Slowly at first, I kissed him, again and
again. He held perfectly still even though my swelling biceps still
pressured his sides, not allowing his lungs to fully inflate. His
receptive, soft lips where a total turn on, as I gradually forced my
tongue into his mouth, exploring him slowly. As I met his tongue with
my own, they began to entwine, and I became immediately more excited.
Powerfully, I pushed into him with my tongue, causing the back of his
head to knock into the tree. My muscular tongue pinned his, then threw
it back, dominating him, tossing his tongue to and fro, again and
again, violating his mouth. My desire grew stronger as I greedily
sucked, now pulling his tongue into my own mouth, siphoning him,
enveloping him in my powerful jaws. Hungrily, I ate at him, devouring
his mouth and lips. His hands massaged and gripped at my shoulders and
granite biceps, fluttering on their surface as I squeezed his ribcage
and tongued him relentlessly. His fingers traced my triceps and delts,
tactilely experiencing the power of each of the muscle groups as I held
him there, pinned to the tree.

Then, subtly, from down below, I began to feel Matt weakly trying to
push his thin member against the bulletproof exterior of my washboard
stomach. I could tell that he was bucking his hips slightly as his
skinny legs, still loosely draped round my waist, tried pathetically to
propel his effete thrusts. I could feel the head of his shaft as it
bumped along, moving slowly, first up, then down, pressed as it was
against the ribbed surface of my abdomen.

I stopped kissing him and glared into his face. "Listen very carefully.
If you cum before I tell you to, I will fucking destroy you," I hissed.
With a sudden flex, I poured on an incredible jolt of power; a blast so
intense that it caused his ribs to crackle and his neck to snap back as
he cried out in agony. His legs fell away from my waist and his whole
body turned to mush in my arms. He seemed to lose partial consciousness
as I held him there, gently now.

As I held him, exerting just enough pressure to keep his body from
flopping to the ground, I felt a sudden twinge of regret in my breast.
Matt's eyelids fluttered as pale moonlight began to creep across his
face. In that split second of annoyance, had I caused some grave bodily
harm? His neck had gone limp. His head lolled back; it seemed to roll
softly with the breezes, fully exposing his neck and Adam's apple.

Minutes passed. I noticed that the skin of his neck seemed to glow,
iridescent and inviting. I couldn't resist; literally couldn't help
myself. Matt's slender, cleanly shaved neck seemed so delicate, so
delectable. I leaned in, gently, and began sucking on his supple,
succulent throat. I could taste his aftershave, fragrant yet bitter. I
sucked harder and harder. I moved on to new territory, tasting his
sweat as I sucked, powerfully, rupturing capillaries, causing deep
purple hickies to rise to the surface.

Under the erotic embrace of my lips, Matt seemed to revive. I felt his
legs suddenly gripping at my quads, scurrying upwards as they
instinctively tried to reassume a dependent position by encircling my
hips like a belt. From a far away place, I heard him moan. "Please,
please... God, please," he begged softly, "I'm so sorry Laura... I'm so
sorry, so sorry... You, you, your so strong, God, so strong. Please,
anything... I'll do anything."

This final pathetic entreaty was simply too much. I couldn't help but
smile broadly, delighted, as Matt picked up his head, his eyes
searching out my approval once more.

I reached down and cradled his cute ass with my right hand, baring the
load of his body with my mighty right arm. Shifting my weight, I now
leaned into the tree with only my left arm, bracing us against its
craggy trunk with my left hand. Matt's legs fell away from my waist and
dangled free, his right arm round my neck as he clung loosely to my
traps. I buoyed him up from below, like a mountain climber secure in
his rigging. Carefully, I maneuvered his body until I could feel his
stiff cock tracing the outline of my vagina's engorged lips.

Then, slowly, guiding his whole body with my powerful right arm, I drew
Matt inside me. As I pushed him in, my body became electrified; my
nerve endings sizzled. I felt the length of his erection slowly being
swallowed whole, his slender penis head finally making contact with the
muscular back wall of my womb. Slowly, I began to move my hips. I held
him firm with my right hand cupping his ass, while simultaneously
grinding into him with my weight. His naked back was now being pushed
forcefully against the tree's rough bark. My muscle walls contracted
around his skinny penis as I felt my lower body quaking... God, I still
remember it, my very first time... Never before had I felt SO
incredibly excited, so alive.

He still clang to my neck with his right arm, but as the pressure and
intensity of my huge muscular body grinding him into the tree became
more unbearable, he lifted his left arm above his head, desperately
pawing at the tree's rough, unyielding surface. Seeing this, I pushed
off of the tree with my left hand, freeing it momentarily, just long
enough to make a grab for Matt's flailing hand. I came down on his left
wrist, capturing it, pinning it hard to the tree above our heads. I was
now leaning into his left wrist with incredible force, the combined
weight of both of our bodies crushing it against the rough bark.

I was now in complete coital control, absorbing him, grinding him,
using him as my own personal dildo. Matt was in rapture: the
alternating currents of incredible pain and incredible pleasure blazing
through his body, causing his face to contort. I started to tremble in
my core. My grinding intensified. I began to pull him up and into me
hard, my right hand searing the flesh of his ass as I squeezed,
crushing him to my body with all my might while I simultaneously pushed
into him with my hips, grating his back along the bark of the tree.

As my thrusts intensified, he began to moan loudly. "Oh, my, oh, my,
oh, my, oh my, god, oh, my, god, oh, my, god," each thrust eliciting a
single pathetic murmur, "no, please, no... So, strong, so, strong, god,
Laura, too, strong, too, strong, too, Aggggh, Aggggh, God,
Lauraaaaa..."

I began to see bright flashes of light as I felt myself teetering on
the verge of a mindbending orgasm. My muscle walls contracted,
mercilessly crushing his slender penis. I increased the pace of my
hips, now using my full strength as I worked him against the tree. I
vaguely remember him screaming, his outburst garbled, haunting.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I slammed Matt against me,
grinding his naked back raw, the tree like a cheese grater on his soft
skin. I continued on, pushing him harder and harder, until finally, in
glorious punctuated explosions, my body finally surrendered to wave
after wave of intense, full body orgasms.

I hurtled through time and space at light speed, my muscles singing
together in chorus, swelling, pumping, throbbing in unison with my
erogenous zone. I knew that this was the release; this was the
fulfillment that my body had been searching for: To blend, to share and
then consume the life force of another, this was the need that
bodybuilding alone simply could not meet.

Orgasms racked my body, my burgeoning muscles becoming completely
overwhelmed with fatigue. As the carnal throbbing began to subside, I
released my grip on Matt's ass. Every fiber in my quads and biceps felt
as if it had been destroyed.

On the verge of collapse with my head spinning, I doubled over, leaning
heavily into the tree while propping myself up with both hands. Sweat
poured down my face and drenched my wide back. I stood there, bracing
myself against the sturdy wooden trunk for what seemed like an hour. My
chest heaved from the overexertion as I drank in gulp after gulp of
night air.

It was now dark, and noticeably more chilly. I could feel goose bumps
forming on the surface of my wet skin. As I began to recover my senses,
I slowly opened my eyes. There, on the ground before me in the shadows,
sat Matt. He looked rumpled and broken, slumping over, with his back
now resting against the tree. He had been knocked out. I could see dark
crimson tracts on his back and neck, bloody and raw from where the tree
had lacerated him. His penis had gone completely limp, and I realized
that he hadn't expended himself inside of me. I guess I had forgotten
to grant him permission.

I also realized that I had forgotten something else. In all of my
excitement, I had forgotten to release my grip on Matt's left wrist.
His left arm was still extended awkwardly above his head, his wrist a
prisoner of my left hand as I leaned into the tree, pinning it there. I
let go of his wrist, watching his arm as it fell heavily to his lap
with a sickening, pulpy sort of flop.

I slowly began to get dressed, stepping into my shorts and pulling them
up over my cleats, then donning my jersey. Feeling slightly warmer, I
collected Matt's cloths, and then returned to our tree, to my home, to
the place of my rebirth.

I bent over, reaching for Matt's face, gently caressing his chin. "Hey
killer," I whispered into his ear as he stirred, groggy, ever so slowly
elevating his head. Though the inky blackness I could barley make out
the whites of his eyes beneath half closed lids. They searched
instinctively for my face, ever in need of approval.

"Come on, let's get you dressed, and I'll give you that ride home."

[Japagreipe]

Excellent, though I hope it wasn't really the final part. I hope you'll consider writing more at some point. Deserves some K+

[grimgram7]

I think you forgot part of the story:   "(C) 2004 Laura B. All rights reserved."...  DTV Miscellaneous stories, part 19.  I KNOW I wouldn't want lauraflex mad at me for bogarting her karma, LOL...  I think she is/was a professional author (and bodybuilder) with a publisher and agent, etc. She is actually really nice, I remember reading these a  while ago and emailed her. She said she was fascinated by the genre and wrote just for fun... We can only hope she writes more...