Author: [Rip Harden] Visting Irene

[hatour]

An amazing story that I just had to share....not by me, but by Rip Harden

Visting Irene (I'll have my steaks well done, thanks)
by Rip Harden

It had been a few years since I visited my Aunty's place down south. We used to go there all the time before Old Uncle Dave got sick. Well, he's not really my uncle, more like one of mum's cousins but she said it was only right that I treat him like a real uncle. Anyway, Old Uncle Dave passed away a little while back and mum thought it a good time for me to visit.

Aunty Irene was a lot younger than her husband and had a young daughter, Kathy, from a teenage romance. The three moved onto some acres well out of town; not to farm but for others to pay them to agist their livestock on the front pastures. As I remember it, the back of the property was uncleared – dotted with trees and bush – and had always been a favourite haunt of mine when I stayed over. Me and Kathy would run down there and spring up a tree onto a branch. Maybe a year or so younger than me, she was the real life tomboy – able to run and jump, climb and pull herself up over all manner of trees and rocky outcrops.

Kathy was always a strong girl, too. I knew that because once when I was ten she hung down from the lowest bough of the flame tree near the old road. With just her arms supporting her, she called to me to grab her around the knees. This done, she pulled me off the ground by doing a chin up. And not just one, either. Three, four then five times she lifted me, chatting and laughing as she did so. She said she could keep going but a sliver of bark had gone into a finger and she didn't want it to fester.

And dad said Aunty Irene was pretty strong, although I don't know how he knew. I know she used to do all the manual chores herself – she was a natural at fixing things and putting up fence posts and the like.

"How are you, Tom? My you have grown, haven't you?"

"Thanks, Aunty Irene, and yep, shot up six inches this year alone."

She put a hand on my right shoulder: I could feel the strength dad was talking about.

"And you're getting broad and firm too. Turning into a real man you are, Tom."

I laughed.

"Aw, maybe a bit of a way to go."

"What did your mum say? You're sixteenth is what, tomorrow?"

"Err, no. The day after."

"Well, we'll have to plan something real special."

Without comment she bent toward my suitcase – an oversized piece of luggage I struggled to haul on and off the train. Although I would use its wheels and pull it behind me, Aunty Irene grabbed the handle and turned and lifted it in one motion to walk to the car. I followed behind, struggling to keep up.

Aunty Irene is thirty one. She's about 5'7". She has her dark hair long and unstyled, often tied back in a ponytail for chores around the house. She doesn't like shoes or footwear of any kind and an absence of makeup gives her very much a hippy appearance – but for one major thing. She sure doesn't exude a lean and hungry look.

As I walked across that asphalt I could see that she had changed. The gunmetal grey sweat top fitted snugly across broad shoulders – much wider than I could remember. In fact I guessed that top would not be found in the ladies section but was likely a men's size 4XL. I knew because I could tell it was the same size as my dad's top.

And my dad lifts weights.

Big weights.

She wore a baggy cotton trouser that told me nothing except that she'd always had a full backside. It went with the territory I guessed. I knew she had good sized breasts and the girls at school with larger breasts were also those with the larger derrieres. It all seemed to fit together.

At the car she opened the back hatch and slid the bag into the back. The weight rocked on the shocks.

"What you carrying in there, Tom, barbells or something?"

"No, umm, just a week's worth of gear, Aunty Irene."

"Must be 66 pounds or more. Oh, and you can just call me Irene, I'm really not your aunt and we're both old enough to talk like adults."

She turned toward her door expecting me to close the hatch. I called after her.

"Did it bother you, umm, you know, the weight?"

Irene turned back to me with a broad smile.

"Sixty-six pounds? Are you kidding? Come on, hop in."

We spoke about family stuff until we got to the farm house. Kathy hadn't arrived home from school and I took my time wheeling the massive bag to my room. The three bedrooms were to the back of the house with the main room – Irene's – in the corner and me on western side and Kathy the southern. The setting sun had warmed the room and I stripped off to my briefs.

Determined to look my best, I flopped to the floor and started to belt out a dozen push ups. Good ones, no lag, the back rod-perfect. For good measure I added another dozen then spun around and knocked out thirty sit ups. That felt good. I'd been doing a bit of weight work and wanted to look the part for Kathy. Not that I was keen on her or nothing. I just knew she'd look lean and hard. She always had.

After I repeated the set, I sat on the bed with a couple of beads of sweat forming on my brow. I was just starting to cool down when a noise outside my door heralded her arrival.

"Hey, hey, Tommy! You in there?"

"Sure 'em. Come on in."

The door opened and with a rush of air, my cousin swept into the room, hugging me around the waist and hoisting me off my feet, sumo style.

"Hey, Tommy, great to see you! And you've been working out too!"

She dropped me down.

In her shoes, Kathy met my eyes on equal terms, making her just a shade under six foot. She had light, straight hair that finished in blonde tips above her nape, blue eyes, a button nose and the healthy tan of an outside girl. It was below the neck that was the most impressive. Sure I work out a bit but her shoulders were as wide as mine and the arms a heck of a lot bigger. She'd pushed the short sleeve of her school uniform up higher to give her biceps and triceps some room, now least for the fabric to strain against the delts. Her arms, pushed out by the laterals, were as brown as the face – even a thick vein that ran from her right elbow along the forearm muscle to the wrist didn't ruin the picture.

"Geez, Kathy, you're the one who's been working out. Wow, you're awesome!"

"You like it? I thought you would. I was so glad when mum said you were coming down. Hey, do you want to arm wrestle?"

"Well ..."

I'd beat her the last time, but something told me that would be the last time.

"... I don't know if I'm that strong."

"Oh, come on, wimp. Here, use the dresser, just chuck the stuff on the chair."

We readied the dresser. With us both at the same height, we needed to stoop slightly which was fair. I stood at the side and grabbed onto her right hand.

"Okay, Tommy, on three – you start pushing."

She counted off and I started to push. And push. And push. I was focused on our grip which didn't move. I then raised my eyes to meet hers. She was smiling at my effort.

"You're not doing too well, are you fella? Let me show you how it's done."

With that and without her eyes leaving my face, she exerted an even force to my hand which arched back toward the wooden panelling. At the moment of my defeat, her smile was accompanied by a short ripping sound and her face turned to a scowl.

"Ow, damn. I thought I could get this dress through to the end of term."

I was rubbing my shoulder which hurt as much as my ego.

"That sure is some strength you got there, Kath."

"That? Oh, it's nothing! Hey, come down the back, I'll show you our little gym."

That lifted my spirits.

"Sure."

We smiled and she jumped up to head to the door. I stood and followed her, then stopped.

"Umm, I should get ..."

"Nah, come as you are, it's pretty warm out and we'll use the path."

She was in the corridor, calling to her mother.

"Mum, we're going down to the shed."

Irene's voice replied from behind us.

"Okay, darling, and tell me, do you want one or two steaks for dinner?"

"Well, I just split the back of the dress, so I might as well have two and go for another 11 pounds by terms end."

Irene had raised her arms to lean them against the frame of the doorway to the living area. In the same outfit as before, this time I could see the massive lateral muscles as they pushed away from her ribs. She saw me as well, running her eyes up and down my semi-naked form. My own eyes fell on her breasts and for a second I thought I noticed her nipples harden before she dropped the arms and began to turn.

"What will that make it then, Kathy? Twenty-six pounds this year? You're doing well."

"I want to do fifteen next year, mum."

"You will, darling, I have every faith in you."

"And make those steaks well done. Come on, Tommy."

I turned to follow the voice. As we hit the sunlight the tear in her dress opened and afforded me a better view of the muscles of her back, divided vertically by a deep groove along her spine, two rows of muscle pushed out either side like hills along a gorge and quartered by the cotton fastener of her white bra which sat over the crevice as if a bridge.

"What was that about pounds, Kathy? Is that how you're increasing your lifts?"

She stopped and continued when I arrived next to her.

"Oh no. I'm talking about building muscle. You see, I weighed 176 pounds at new year. Now I'm 191 and I reckon I can get myself to 202 by Christmas."

"Wow, I'm up to 165 pounds and I thought I was doing well."

"Well, I want to be mum's current weight before I'm twenty."

"Oh, yeah, what's that?"

She hesitated as she pushed open the door of the shed.

"She's 319 lbs. But she's adding 22 pounds a year as well. She'll be close to four hundred, fourty."

I was astounded.

"four hundred, fourty pounds of muscle. Awesome."

"Yeah, well, my body fat's less than eight per cent which is better than her. Now, then. Mum doesn't look like she's been in here this afternoon so it's pretty much how I left it this morning."

"How often you work out?"

"Me? Umm, hour and a half in the early morning then maybe two hours when I get home and up to dinner. Mum and I usually rest one day a week and it looks like today's her day. Here, let's see what you can bench."

"I don't want to interfere, Kathy, you know, with your routine."

"I did two and a half hours this morning knowing that I'd be showing you the sights this afternoon, so think nothing of it. Now, rack up that bar."

The 'shed' was sparse, even for a home gym. There was a squat rack, a leg press come lower work rack and bars, plates, barbells and even kettlebells sat around the sides. There was a bench at the back with an empty bar resting across the top. She watched as I put a 110 lb plate on each side. My best bench was 220 lbs so I was going straight for the top.

"Want me to spot you?"

"It might be good."

I slid under and put my hands in position. No weight belt. No warm up. I said a quiet prayer. Then pushed.

"Arghh!"

I heard an excited voice.

"Good work, Tommy, you got it up in one. Can you do a second rep? ..."

I tried. I failed.

"... No matter. Hey, is that your pb?"

I sighed.

"Yeah. Previous was 95."

"No belt, no warm up. Nicely done."

I sat up.

"What about you, Kath?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

She looked around and found a couple of 220 lb plates. I had never seen weights that size and the ease in which she moved them and the effort impacting on the bulges in her arms caused my cock to burst into life. I tried to act real cool, leaning on the back brick wall, crossing my legs so my own bulge wasn't obvious, she was a picture of concentration, moving the plates around so that a neat 660 lbs was on the bar.

"I don't expect you to spot me, Tom."

"I can't believe you're going to try and do 660."

"Try? Give me a break."

No weight belt, she slid under the bar and without any hesitation, pushed the bar above her. Once, twice, three, four, five. Almost effortless. Six, seven, eight, nine ... ten. The last a little slower than the first nine. She slid around and sat up.

"Unlike you, big boy, I like to warm up a bit. Hmm, while that weight's there I might knock up some curls."

"You let me beat you that last time we arm wrestled, didn't you?"

She frowned and shook her head as she took up a position at the back of the bench, where a spotter would, and with her back to me she bent and picked up the bar with her upper arms flush against her thrusting lats; the triceps and delts straining as she took the weight. Perfect curls with a rigid elbow. One, two ... up to eleven then a slow, slightly sloppy, twelfth.

A 12 rep set with 660 lbs. But she wasn't happy.

"Fuck it. Always make a mess with that last one."

As she pumped out the numbers I watched the opening in her dress. With every upward exertion, the gap would widen, the muscles contract and tense, the bra fastener straining with its threat to snap. With the downward motion, the tear would close, the bra's threats would subside, the muscles retreat. Then in an instant all would start again.

"That was just awesome, Kathy. I mean, it almost looked easy."

"I can press 992 lbs on a good day."

"Geez, what do they think of that at school?"

"Ugh! No way I'd tell them. Enough of them think I'm a freak as it is. One teacher even wanted to take mum to the Welfare 'til he got a look at her."

"Don't you want to, you know, compete or something? Umm, like, beat them in the gym?"

"It's no contest and yeah, sure I like being the biggest and strongest 14 year-old going around but really, I'm all about setting my own goals."

She pointed away at something behind me. I didn't understand what she meant.

"Huh?"

"Grab that tape from over there."

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I turned away and within a few seconds had located the dressmaker's measure. It was old and the increments were in feet and inches. As I turned around she stepped out of her torn uniform.

Her physique was more astounding then I could have hoped. It was big, hard muscle. There was nothing of her 190 lbs that was wasted on fatty tissue – just tanned bulges pushing out between the ravines and gullies that defined her muscle tone. Even the breasts hidden behind her cotton bra could be described as 'athletic', a B sized cup at best. But as is often the case, the small white briefs clung tightly around small hips and an arse less than half the width of her broad shoulders.

I gave into the inevitable. My cock was hard and pressing to escape my briefs as I returned toward her. Those baby blue eyes dropped and lifted back with an added smile; she was enjoying this as much as me.

"Okay, Tom, I want you to measure. ..."

She struck a front bicep pose.

"... around the peak of the bicep."

My mouth was dry but I could still swallow hard. My erection had reached its zenith, I couldn't recall a time when I had achieved such a stage of unrequited horniness. The adrenaline rush caused my hands to shake. I focused. The tape lapped around the baseball size bulge in her upper arm. I had a reading.

"Umm, sixteen and one half inches."

"Sixteen and a half? Great! Real great!"

"Err, I think I got it right."

"You would. Mum measured me a fortnight ago and I was sixteen and a quarter. I've put on another two pounds of muscle since then."

She kept the pose and leaned her head so she could kiss the top of the rock hard ball of muscle.

"Geez, Kathy, at that rate ..."

My voice trailed. She said the obvious.

"Yeah, I know. I want to have twenty four inch pythons by the time I'm twenty. That'll stuff mum up. She's only about twenty two and a half now."

"Fuck, twenty two."

"Oh, that's right ..."

She laughed.

"... You haven't seen her without that sweat top have you? Yeah, that'll be a sight for sore eyes."

"She's big?"

"Big? Real fucking big you mean, Tommy. Now do my chest."

Kathy held her arms out and walked close – so close she pushed her breasts against my chest – ordering me to run the tape under her shoulders then bring it to the front to measure. As I pushed back to look at the tape she pushed forward with her hips: flush against my hard on. Only two thin pieces of fabric separated us from a whole lot of trouble.

For a second I lost focus; concluding this must be all a tease, my response was to apply renewed concentration.

"Umm, the tape says 4 feet and 1 inch."

"That's 49 inches. Hmmm."

She stepped back as I let the tape drop, the erotic moment lost in the displeasure of her voice.

"No, no, mum and I only ever measure in inches. Maybe because we always use that old tape; I don't know."

"So, that's, err, not good?"

"Forty nine inches isn't good. No. It means I haven't improved in a month. Fuck it. I want a 52 inch chest for Christmas."

I laughed.

"I guess you could always ask Santa."

Her face lightened.

"You don't know how right you are, Tommy. Now do you want to see something funny?"

It was funny I guess – but I'd seen it before on the 'net. Pec dancing. With her intense muscularity she could make each of the serrated muscles jump up a couple of inches: left, right, left, right, both and both again. Then repeat. Still, the moment was gone so far as my cock was concerned, although it was still over half way hard. I felt more relaxed – we both did – and we talked about what teens talk about – why I took the week off school, our favourite bands (she's as much into Coldplay and Bruno Mars as I am) and she's seen all of the Twilight series. I have to say, she's pretty cool in a real hot way.

I lost track of time and it felt like only another ten minutes before we could hear Irene call us up to the house for dinner. She didn't care that we were both in our underwear. Hell, my mum would just freak. And she said nothing when Kathy just sat straight down before her two steaks – well done -four potatoes, two eggs, a serving of mushrooms and green beans, all washed down with a litre sized protein shake.

And Irene was no slouch herself. Two T-bones and a small piece of rump steak, three fried eggs on a separate plate with a fresh protein shake to replace the one she was finishing plus the obligatory mushrooms, beans and potatoes.

"I reckon we can pack six pounds of muscle on you before you go back to the big smoke, Tommy."

This explained why my own plate was full of much the same. Kathy smiled and nodded at Irene.

"Mum's got a few things she's gonna show you in the morning when all that protein has got into your system."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I reckon we'll get you up to benching one-twenty in a week."

I met Irene's smile then turned my eyes away, determined not to linger on her shoulders and chest – all that I could see while sitting down. Anyway, Kathy sat opposite. There was a lot to be seen just looking over the top of my food.

The muscle-pair started to debate what I should do – as if I wasn't in the room – until the subject turned to Kathy's static 49 inches. Irene shook her head and admonished her daughter's training regime. 'If you want to build mass' she said 'you should be benching 881, 992 for four or five reps – not less weight for more reps like a bodybuilder.' They debated the issue, Irene concluding there was no reason why Kathy shouldn't be pushing up 1,100 lb – half a ton – in a bench by the end of the weekend: and then doing it for two or three reps a week later. That's how to get to 52 inches.

I knew from my own limited experience there was more that could be done than just benching. I interrupted.

"Umm, what about raised barbell flies? You know, when you lie on the bench and raise the barbell to the vertical then ease it out to the horizontal like a cross then bring it back up to the vertical, you know, really works the lats."

Kathy looked stunned for a moment, enough time for Irene to speak.

"Good question, Tom ..."

She smiled and placed a hand on my forearm. A huge vein rose from below the middle knuckle, retreating along the wrist and under the long sleeved garment.

"... and what about that, Kathy? We have barbells in 440, 661 and 881 pounds. You could start with a couple of 440s and work up."

"Yeah, well, I do that but only with the 110 pound barbells, so ... good point I guess."

My muscle-bound third cousin looked daggers at me across the table. There were other questions I had on weights and exercises – God knows what these two could leg press – but it appeared as if I had breached the generation gap and sided with Irene – resulting in a weird imbalance to the conversation. Best to let my curiosity ride.

With dinner over and Kathy off to do her homework, I walked into the kitchen while Irene was bent over – legs astride – to fill the dishwasher. A surge of lust came upon me – I had the sudden urge to pull down those oversized cotton trousers and without her moving any one of her huge muscles, glide myself inside her. I went hard at the thought; hopeful that the tee shirt I'd thrown on provided some discretion. She straightened, turned and pushed out a grin - it was if she could read my ribald mind.

"You look like you're in a trance there, Tom?"

"Ah, yeah, umm ..."

"Something you want to ask?"

She continued to stack the washer as I tried to frame words into a sentence.

"Yeah, umm, can I ask? How much can you bench, Aunty, umm, Irene?"

She didn't look at me as she answered matter of fact.

"Well, I guess I could say, 'as much as you want', Tom. What about when we have our workout tomorrow you can stack my special titanium bar with whatever weight you can find and we'll see."

"Umm, yeah, dad said you were strong. I mean, real strong."

She shut the machine and turned to me with a wider smile.

"Your dad said that? Yeah, well, he knows what I can lift. ..."

She stepped closer.

"... You see your dad and I've been working out for the same time, but, I dunno, I'm just so much stronger and a lot bigger. Maybe it's the diet."

"Dad only does an hour or two a day, I mean, he doesn't eat that much red meat, umm, mainly fish, chicken, umm ..."

She put her hand on my puny right bicep and squeezed. I did my best not to yelp.

"Stick with me and Kathy, Tom. We'll get these into some decent size for you."

The hand pulled me down to her height, she pecked me on the lips and with a swiftness that belied her size, released me to move to the back door.

"I'm going down to the shed to do an hour of leg work. I'll see you tomorrow morning bright and early all ready for some proper training."

"Night, Irene."

I watched her ease her frame through the doorway. My cock twitched again. Damn it. How will I survive a whole hour with her – especially if she shows her muscle.

A sigh.

The deal for a week off school was that I had to do some reading – now was a good time. I stripped off and tucked myself under a sheet.

Sure. I was tired. The four hour trip; pushing up that 220 lbs of metal to (try to) impress Kathy. I might just doze a minute.

I awoke to the sound of a click. I looked up and blinked. A huge figure in a white satin gown stood over me.

Irene.

"You left that light on all night, Tom. You fell asleep while reading."

A hand appeared before my face and picked up the book that was lying on my chest. There was a dim light coming through the bedroom window. It was morning. I couldn't believe I didn't move an inch all night.

"You must've been very tired. I won't work you too hard today."

She looked briefly at the cover of the book. I looked at the forearm holding it – the way the muscle grew up and out above the wrist. Fuck! It had to be maybe 18 inches around. She flicked the book onto the dresser. My eyes followed the deep groove of definition between the upper and lower muscles at the back of the forearm. It roused me to sit up.

"I'll, umm, get ready, umm ..."

A firm hand pushed my shoulder back to the pillow.

"Take your time, darling. I've just done two hours with 881 lbs barbells and, anyway, Kathy's down there now."

"Oh, umm, the time?"

"It's half past six. I wanted to spot her on a 1,102 lbs press. Damn minx she is. I knew she could lift it easy. She wants to hide her strength from me so I don't keep pushing her."

"She's that strong?"

"Remember when she used to lift you off the ground by chinning herself on that tree?"

"Umm, yeah."

"Well, she only ever used one arm, even if she pretended to use two. And she was only nine then, so, unlike me, it's all natural."

"Wow."

Irene put her hand on my chest and gently felt my underdeveloped pecs.

"Just think Tommy, in twelve months that girl will be six foot and 231 lbs of flint hard muscle packed inside a cunning fifteen year old's body. Her arms will be over eighteen inches; her chest in the high fifties, quads thirty six each. All if she keeps doing the five hours a day she knows she has to do."

I swallowed hard; she said it all for my benefit, I was certain. I tried to sound cool.

"Ha, provided she has her two steaks a day as well."

"Yes but it should be four. She slacks off with her diet sometimes, too. Look at this. ..."

Irene lifted her left leg and placed it on the bed next to my left rib cage. The mattress sagged under it.

"... look at that calf. Twenty inches around, double barrelled, hard as they come. You don't get that from hanging about on facebook eating tofu."

I shook my head.

"Feel it, Tommy. Go on ... I know you want to ... Really, I don't mind."

As she spoke my left hand ran up the back of the lower leg. The muscle was fantastic. Distinctive in its definition like two knobs of marble, each the size of my hand, connected in the middle to form a huge heart shaped muscle.

Of course I couldn't help it. The sheet began to lift like a tent – the centre pole located just below my waist. Her hand pushed the top of the sheet below my diaphragm to the navel. She had to have noticed. But she didn't react with words. Rather, she leant a little closer, so that the knee moved over me. The gown split a little, she pushed it off her left quad.

"Feel my thighs, my hamstrings. Feel how hard they are, Tommy ... Mmm, that's the way, yeah, feel those grooves between the serrated bulges of muscle. And look ... if I tense, it just expands up and all the veins push into the skin."

She laughed a weird laugh, her left hand went lower on my abdomen. I could feel her fingernails among my pubes. Her right hand enclosed the hand that was feeling her thigh.

"Feel this one down here, Tommy. I call it my love muscle, because whenever a guy touches it, I just get so ..."

Her head rocked back as her hand pushed my hand along the bulge of muscle that led up the inside of her thigh to her groin. No pretence now. Her right hand undid the sash and let the gown fall open.

There it was. Her pussy, grinning at me as if a Cheshire cat with a vertical smile, perfectly shaven; a touch of moisture glistened at the front of the lips. My voice croaked.

"Oh fuck, Irene, I never ..."

She leant closer so she was supported by her toes, her knee over my chest, she withdrew her left hand to balance herself on the bedhead.

"You can touch it if you like, Tommy ..."

I moved and hesitated.

"... Go on, it won't bite ... although it does like to be bitten ..."

She laughed. My reluctance overpowered me. I swallowed with a dry mouth. She moved back, dropping her foot to the floor and standing straight.

"... don't worry, Tommy, just relax. Here. This is what you want to see."

The gown pushed back off her massive shoulders.

My God: she ... is ... huge.

Putting her elbows to the front and crossing her arms above her naked breasts as if Jeannie granting a wish, she pressed out her lats; the muscles spreading a foot out from each side like an angel's wings.

"... And see ... this is what happens when I do those vertical barbell flies you talked about."

"Wow, you used two 881 lbs barbells? That's awesome."

"That's all the weight those barbells can take. I could do much more. Geez, I did 3 sets by 8 of dips and calf raises with 900 on the titanium bar last night. It was pretty much routine."

Irene smiled and looked at the sheet sloping toward my feet and kneeling next to my hip, flicked the linen to my knees.

"Oh, Tommy, you are big down there, aren't you. ..."

I had a clue from gym that I was a little better than average but today I was so hard – my cock rose from my loins like a mini-model of that tower in Pisa. I knew I was not for lasting.

"... and thick ... wow, you're much more a man than your dad, let me tell you."

I had no idea what she meant and didn't want to know. She stood again and lifted her massive left leg as if to straddle me. My heart began to pound fast.

[hatour]

"Are you going to ... umm?"

Her voice softened; the volume but a whisper.

"Not today, darling, ..."

Her arms propped each side of my shoulders as her torso rose above me like some alien craft in ID4.
Then I felt her weight on my abdomen.

"... am I too heavy?"

"No, no fine."

"There is a lot of me. A lot of muscle I mean, darling, as you can see."

See? There was too much to see. Too much to take in. Irene propped forward on her arms so to ease the weight, by instinct my hands raised to feel the triceps of each arm – hard as granite, a muscle so often ignored by many, dad said its size was the test of a true muscle phenom. And these two swelled to fill my hands, like large avocados.

She pushed herself forward, her breasts – the size of cantaloupe – filled my vision. In the fruit salad of my scrambled brain, I forgot about her muscles, moving my hands to the firm alabaster melons in front of my face; the cherry red nipples protruding from the centre like a perfect thumb-sized topping. I pushed my face up; my tongue out; licking/sucking/mauling. She moaned and gasped. I'd lost contact with the exhibition of my own excitement. But she hadn't . Lowering herself a little further I feel my cock against the crack of her arse. Just a touch; the meekest sensation of foreskin upon her luscious, soft cheeks. She rotated her hips as if I was inside her, moaning gently, then as if she suddenly remembered something, stopped and sat up straight.

I breathed hard as her hands ran down my chest and abdomen. Her hair, still damp from her post work out shower hung inelegantly around her massive shoulders, barely covering the enormous traps that rose from above her collar as if someone had moulded the clay of two housebricks to her shoulders. Her voice was raspy; as horny as all hell.

"I saw you last night. I saw how you looked at me. I know you want me, Tommy, and I want you to. I want that fat slug of yours inside me. But no ... not today. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, Tommy."

I gasped out my desire but she shook her head. Leaning back she lifted her arms and with a look of pure lust pushed them into a double front bicep pose.

My eyes were drawn to the biceps. The twenty two and a half inch mounds of muscle.

No. That's not right. They were four mounds of muscle. The avocado triceps now a little squashed but still massive, above them the cement like foundation of rectangular connective tissue before a third layer sat up next, another brick like moulding that supported the piece de resistance – the final bicep peak as large as a gridiron football shaking as she pressed with all her unhuman strength to force those muscles up – bigger, higher, larger.

My hands rose and she bent forward for me to feel. The 12-pack abs expanded as they took the strain of her body lowering to 45 degrees. The football felt like marble, steel, granite, I knew not what – even the veins that projected and scurried along the skin like the arteries of the heart muscle were so hard I couldn't push into them. This was awesome. Just awesome.

She began to rotate her hips again. Her arse crack caught my cock. It was all it needed to do. I jerked and groaned, I watched her smile widen as my warm juice sprayed across her arse and lower back.

All I could hear was my heart. As if drums were in my chest, the sound was deafening. I felt a little faint. She kept smiling as the second and third spurt left me; each a little less potent than the first. I sighed aloud.

Irene released the pose and dropped her body on top of mine. It was so hard; so heavy. She spoke with her face no more than an inch or two from mine.

"You're beautiful, Tommy. You did exactly what I wanted. Now we can go and work out and you won't be all obsessed about what it is under my sweats."

I was a little confused.

"Was that it then?"

Her face had returned to the wicked look of before; of last night.

"I have to check if Kathy's deadlifting Twelve-Fifty like she said she would."

"Fuck."

My brain had returned to planet Earth – back to contemplating the extraordinary strength that surrounded me.

Irene lifted and turned her body; peeling the skin away from where her juices had stuck us together. She hadn't cum but that didn't stop her from leaving a solid patch above my flaccid cock.

As if for some mischievous encore and with her back to me, Irene put her hands on her hips and performed another lat-spread, holding the pose so I could see gravity force the remnants of my cum to trickle through the grooves and serrations of her lower back onto her full-cheeked arse. And then one final double bicep pose – this time from the back and only for a couple of seconds – enough time to see the deltoids look like eight inch wide donuts with the muscle gathering into the joint in the middle.

Picking up her gown, she returned to being the lady of the house.

"And Tommy could you start cooking breakfast? A piece of rump and two eggs for each of us."

I swung my legs out of bed and smiled.

"Sure. Anything you want."

At the threshold she looked back again.

"After our workout, I might need your help stacking the dishwasher. After all, why put off to tomorrow what we can do today."

I shook my fist with quiet celebration as I watched those naked muscles disappear into the corridor.

Who said all your birthdays can't come at once?

[blank]

Great story! K+

I hope Kathy has the same idea and she competes with her mother!

[nickolai]

The second part of the saga ...

Visiting Irene II (Caution: use only as directed)

"You've definitely improved. I mean, you can bench 140 kilograms. That's a forty per cent gain in sixteen months. And that's not all is it?"

"Put on ten kilo of muscle, too, just following your diet and program."

"Yeah, yeah. It really works."

"And what about you, Kathy? You said you'd be 105 kilos by Christmas and what? You're 106 with a week to go.

"Benching 850 kilograms. No. Problems. At . All."

"It's just awesome."

"Thinking relative it's less of an improvement than you made, Tommy, I mean, I've been lifting heavy since I was twelve. I'll be sixteen on Friday."

"You're real neat, cuz, I'll tell you that."

"And stop calling me your cousin. I'm not really."

"Why not?"

"It's creepy. I mean, we're standing here in our underwear, flesh and muscles and stuff and you're acting like we're related."

Kathy had a point. We had no DNA in common. It was a relationship based on my uncle's marriage to Kathy's mum.

Still, I didn't think that was the guts of the issue.

She knew about me and Irene: me and her mum. Once the clock struck midnight and I was sweet sixteen, there was no stopping us (more correctly, no stopping her). There was a fifteen years age difference but she was the one acting out like a horny teen. Me? I was cool. I was getting all the sex and muscle I could handle and then some. I thought at first that Kathy didn't care. Anyway she was 14 then; much too young to have all that on her mind. But now as she's blossoming into adulthood herself? I dunno. It must be all those hormones or whatever it is that goes on in their head. She was starting to get clingy.

"What are these things, Kath? Ughh, they're fucking heavy."

I was looking at three large cooking pots, all were large and made of iron or steel and each was heavy. I mean real heavy.

Kathy picked up the largest, maybe a foot and a half high and two feet in diameter.

"Wow, this must be over a hundred kilos, no wonder you struggled to move it."

I didn't notice her intended slight. I was looking at the right arm as it took the weight – the way the eighteen inch bicep burst into action, the triple-decker muscle expanding and contracting with the flex, the delts now so big I can't get two hands around them and the 16 inch forearm muscle bulging with a thick, tan vein running from her elbow to her middle finger – just like on her mum.

And the other predicted figures have all come in on schedule. A 57 inch chest, quads of 35 each, the calves 19 inches: in one massive muscle like a little soccer ball. And she was below 5% body fat – her hips would take a 28" pair of jeans but for the simple reality they would never make it over her legs.

"Why would an old lady have cooking pots like this?..."

Kathy shook her head. I had a moment of inspiration.

"... Hey, why don't we go there and find out."

"Ugh, I have to get dressed and it's over the other side of town. We can't walk ..."

"No, but I could drive."

"You're a learner, you'll get into big trouble."

"Only if we're caught. Come on."

Mrs Munroe was a good friend of Irene. She was going overseas to visit family, going by passenger liner rather than aeroplane. Irene had taken Mrs Munroe to the port some three hours drive away then decided to stay the night. With the intensity of our lovemaking on the first day of my arrival such that I was sore pretty much everywhere, I was glad for the break.

"That was neat that you knew where the key was, Tommy."

I laughed.

"I've been in your mum's room enough to know where everything is."

Kathy didn't share the joke. In a second we were inside the old, musty house. Kathy moved to open a window. I could hardly believe she needed effort to push it upward. The lock was off and there was nothing wrong with it that I could tell. I have watched the mega-teen curl two barbells with 300 kg each. Why a steel framed window would cause her such inconvenience is bizarre.

And yes, it was all bizarre. All the furniture, the pots, plans, plates, all made from this heavy duty metal.

"Try and lift the end of that sofa, Kath."

This was the strongest teen in the world, able to deadlift 1500 kg, a ton and a half of metal, and do a perfect deep squat with a weight of 1250 kg on her massive shoulders. But she bent and twisted and huffed and puffed and struggled to get the end more than a hand-span off the ground. I shook my head.

"This is freaky."

She looked at her hands wondering why they'd failed her. In silence she straightened and leaned against a desk/library combo. I bemused myself with the observation that the white tee-shirt she wore (size 5XL) only gripped the top half of her torso, breasts and shoulders – the rest lay limp outside her baggy blue shorts.

"What the fuck?"

"What've you found?"

"Look at this, Tom, it's a recipe."

Kathy waved what looked like a tired sheet of paper at me. On view, it may have been a page torn from a kid's school exercise book with faint blue lines and a margin. The handwriting was a girly/childish style in blue ink.

"Umm, yeah, looks like a stew or something."

"Now look at the last paragraph."

"Umm, 'Drain off stock, refrigerate and add to liquid and dilute for drinking. Use no more than one tablespoon to avoid abnormal growth in muscle and strength. Caution: Never use more then once.' Shit!"

"What do you think, Tom?"

"She spelled 'than' wrong for a start."

"Be serious will you! This is a recipe to build huge muscle and strength."

"How can you tell?"

"Look at this place, only a superstrong person could live here among all this."

"So does Mrs Munroe have big muscles?"

"Err, I, umm, only saw her once. She is big, I mean tall, umm, maybe 6 foot 6 and pretty broad but I couldn't tell what was under her baggy clothes."

"Same as your mum, Kath, she dresses so you can only see how broad she is."

"Yeah, guess. Hey, I'm gonna find a pen and write this down."

I watched as she carefully reproduced the recipe then made me check that she had it all right. There was only one ingredient I was unfamiliar with and as I read her carefully crafted copy, she attacked the kitchen pantry in gusto.

"Fucking brilliant!"

"Mrs Munroe will know that's gone, Kathy. Look, it's in a satchel. It's obviously special."

"Fuck that. Anyway, she's well over seventy, I reckon she'll have forgotten she had it."

"Well, why stop there ..."

I shouldn't have put the idea in her head. She ransacked the kitchen for goods she knew weren't at home. When she finished she admonished me for not having closed the window and made ready to leave. I did as she said (even with the help of gravity it was an effort) and soon we were back at the homestead.

Irene returned an hour into Kathy's potion making. I met her as she alighted from the car. She wore a very oversized cotton top and that dinky little frilly dress which said 'there's nothing underneath – just bend me over and fuck me'. For three quarters of an hour I worked away with her on the bonnet of the car – she came face down, she came face up and she came with my face in it. And all the strength was there; all the power; all the muscle. 24 inch biceps. 64 inches around the chest, forearms 21, calves 23, deltoids the size of volleyballs. 164 kg of massive female muscle.

"Yeah, but I've maxed out with my strength, Tommy. ..."

Irene spoke as she found the shed tee shirt and pulled it back over her.

"... I can't break 1900 with my deadlift."

"Irene, that's, err, awesome, I mean, it's near on two tons!"

"Near on is not enough. I will be content once I do it. Not before."

I thought of something to say as she took her carry bag from the car.

"I, umm, I missed you, Irene."

She laughed.

"You missed the sex you mean. Come on, Tommy, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

I would lie if I said I was wounded. I'd fucked a dozen older women since I'd spent that extra fortnight visiting down here last Christmas and New Year. I knew they loved the size of my cock – and that's all. Fuck. Nothing would come of this fling. Why did I say it? As she walked toward the house I had to have a comeback.

"What can you tell me about Mrs Munroe?"

Irene called back.

"Gladys is a very sweet old lady."

"She's got superstrength hasn't she?"

Irene stopped dead and turned.

"Where did you get that from, young man?"

I was confident in my response.

"Those pots and stuff. No one can move them unless they're really strong."

"Oh, fine then. Umm ..."

"It's okay, I won't tell Kathy."

Irene sighed and reached into her bag for a mobile phone. Extracting it she worked the menus and showed me a photo of a tall – huge – woman with short grey hair and broad shoulders, standing on a dock, towering over those around her.

"Wow, she's big."

"That's not big, Tommy. This ... is big."

[nickolai]

The next photo was taken inside a cabin. It was a close up of the woman's head and uncovered shoulders and chest. Gladys had removed her top (her nipples couldn't be seen, however) and had struck a right front bicep pose.

What a pose. The muscle filled the left of the frame, rising almost as high as the woman's hair line. It was way, way bigger than that of the woman standing before me.

"Fuck me, that must be ..."

"Thirty two inches it is, Tommy. Not bad for her age is it?"

"She must be so strong."

"She can lift that car ..."

Irene pointed to Gladys's four door sedan.

"... as if made of cardboard."

I said nothing and just stared at the three tons of silent metal. I shook my head and turned as Irene eased herself through the back door.

Perhaps that was it. Maybe the need to break the 2000 kg barrier was all about impressing her friend.

The old lady who must be the strongest being on Earth.

I kept my bargain and said nothing further. Yet, the evening did not progress well. Irene's sister called to tell her she was needed up in the city tomorrow because of a court case scheduled for Thursday. Damn. The week before Christmas and she had to go to the Big Smoke; all the people, the traffic, the heat of the city. Even worse, she might miss Kathy's special day. With no one to call on to watch over us, she put me in charge.

Me looking after a girl who could lift a ton and a half. Yeah, right.

After dinner, I didn't see Kathy until she was cooking up a feast the next morning. In good spirits, four steaks were on the grill.

"Two for me and two for you, big boy."

"I was going to work out this morning."

"You can work out later. Now we're going to have my special protein shake."

Easy for her to say. She'd just finished a three hour session. 5 to 8 in the morning; 2 to 5 in the afternoon. This was the new, post-school routine.

"If this stuff works, Tommy, I'll never need to go near a school or a book or a teacher again."

"What'll you do?"

"I'll be the strongest person on the planet. I won't need to do anything except show my muscles and strength."

Standing in a training bra she uses as a top and her shorts, Kathy flexed her bicep as if doing a curl. It was so damn big and hard from the morning's effort. I told her I didn't think she'd need any potion. She ignored me. She asked how I wanted to take mine. I protested.

"Don't you want to get bigger, Tom?"

"Of course, but ..."

"I'm taking it and I won't be going alone! ..."

Her voice had menace.

"... alright, look, you only take a tablespoon full."

"That's the dose isn't it?"

"Bah! I want to be big, not correct!"

Fuck. I was getting scared. She measured a tablespoon of dark brown liquid from a small jug and placed it in a litre protein shake. She stirred and handed it to me; not doing a further thing until I'd drunk the lot.

It didn't change the taste. Maybe it did nothing at all. Maybe this was all BS.

She didn't bother to measure her own, just pouring a portion from the small jug; I guessed it at 3 or 4 tablespoons. She repeated the stirring and on consumption shrugged her massive shoulders with added smile.

"So that's it, Tom. I'm going to sunbake this morning, you can join me if you like but ..."

She left a long pause, I didn't react.

"... I've been going topless, so ..."

That was just too much information.

"It's okay, Kath, I'm taking a long walk before the sun's too hot. I'll see you at lunch."

"Yeah, light lunch today. We're working big this afternoon."

While I was out I decided that I should just go with it. Maybe Kathy will poison us both or maybe we'll get real big like the bicep in that photo. Kathy debated the issue further when I returned (and she was back in her training gear) but my heart wasn't in it. Let's go and see what we can do.

Scientists would call it the placebo effect. We didn't know. We sort of felt stronger and I benched 145 – my best. But we couldn't tell. Kathy had never broken the ton in the bench and after a quick warm up, pushed up 880 kg. That was not an unexpected improvement with her training and diet.

"Maybe I was wrong after all, Tommy. That stuff was just a crazy form of beef stock."

"I dunno, give it time."

Her spirit deflated, I cooked dinner. We watched MTV and a True Blood episode then went to bed – our respective beds.

When I awoke on the Wednesday I could feel my feet pushed hard against the top sheet. I looked and saw I was close to the bedhead. That's odd. This is a good size mattress. I rose and stood. Things seemed a little different. No, I must be crazy.

Another warm morning. I guessed Kathy was down at the gym although her door was shut – something she rarely did. It was in the bathroom mirror I first noticed it. My chest, my arms, my legs: all larger, with more muscle bulk. I smiled. I couldn't help it. And the other thing. Looking in the mirror I couldn't see any reflection above my eyes. The shower faucet was also at eye level.

I'd grown three inches overnight.

And then there was the down side. My gym shoes were too small. My shirt too tight. My shorts were the same but I needed to tear the sides a little. I was bigger – not yet big – and I liked what I could fucking see.

"Tommy!"

"In here, Kathy."

Oh shit.

Kathy appeared at my door. As big as my door frame – no. Much, much bigger.

"It worked, Tommy! I've grown. Fuck, you've grown too. You're looking great."

If great was a word to describe Alexander of Macedon, Kathy was stupendous. She looked down on me from three or four inches above my 6'3". I couldn't see her shoulders in the doorway she was now so wide.

"Let's get down the gym. I want to see what we can do?"

"Aw, Kathy, I'm kinda hungry."

"No! I have to know. Come on."

I could tell from trying to catch up behind her these numbers would be extreme. No more increments and gradients. Things were about to surge like the Chinese energy market.

Plates almost flew onto bars. The massive form in front of me had 950 kg on the benching bar in a flash. And the effort? What effort?

"There's nothing, Tommy, look! One hand. I can lift it with one hand!"

More plates. 1200 kg was easy. 1500 no better. 1650 some resistance. 1800 about the same.

"I'm going for it, Tommy!"

"Put 2400 on the bar, Kathy."

"2400 kilos? Fuck that's its limit."

"Put 2400 on the bar, Kathy."

She put 2400 on the bar. She braced herself for the effort. She needed to. But it didn't matter. She got it up. Then eased it back into its place.

"Now you, big boy."

The progression was the same. 200 kg easy. 300 I felt the weight. 400 getting hard. I tried 500. I got there, nothing like how she benched 2400. Still, I was coming off a lower level.

And so it went. She deadlifted 3000 which was the most the bar could take. She wasn't tested. Squats with 2800? 1 set of 4 reps. Kathy worried about how the bar strained under the weight. This was such virgin territory it freaked us both.

"I've got the tape measure ..."

"No! No! Not today. Umm, tomorrow, Tommy, tomorrow we'll measure."

We stopped and had a late breakfast. We were confused on most things: what we needed to do with our training, what to eat, how to sleep.

What to tell Irene.

Yet Kathy was very sure of one thing.

"I'm gonna finish off that juice."

"Kathy, I will have another tablespoon, I'm that much of a convert, but I think you should only go for one as well. There's no need to push it now you've had that growth spurt."

"Yeah, true. I'll just have two."

It was a victory of sorts. We clinked the glasses holding our shakes and poured down the hatch. Neither of us remembered the warning at the base of the recipe.

I'm not sure it would've mattered.

There is little I can say on the next days leading to Kathy's birthday. I got bigger – absurdly so. My chest measured 55 inches, my biceps 23, my quads 36 and my height? 6 foot and 8 inches. A big man I had become, in every sense. And yes, I mean my cock. I'd love to say it grew in proportion. If it did it would now be 11 or 12 inches hard. It wasn't. It was longer, thicker. And that's freaked me more than anything. I didn't want Kathy to know. She'd grown too – even more than me. But I didn't want her to see how big I could get down there. I was thinking weird.

So I used a sheet and wrapped myself like a Roman toga. It worked a treat. That and avoiding Kathy's ubiquitous flexing and posing. I focused on my own weights. By Thursday evening I was close on two ton in the deadlift, a ton in the bench, using the 300 kg barbells for flys. I wasn't up to Irene and nowhere near the 'new' super-teen, still, I was very fucking pleased.

Kathy no longer went to the shed. There was no weight there that challenged her. I told her about the photos, about my conversation with Irene, about the claim that Gladys could 'lift her car like a cardboard box'. Kathy nodded matter of fact. 'Of course' she said. Kathy could do a dozen reps of military presses with 3000 kg, why the car be a contest? I couldn't disagree. And it would be horny to see her lift a car – something I didn't want.

At least I didn't think I did.

"Happy birthday, to you!"

"Ugh, don't sing, Tommy, you're awful."

"Those sheets you got tied around you are looking a little tight, Kath. You grew again overnight."

We sat on the grass between the shed and the back door of the house. Our size was such that the outdoors were the more comfortable option and on this sunny, summer morning, the early heat of the day was so inviting. Kathy cut at a leg of lamb (well done), giving me pieces while she ate hunks. The food attracted the attention of a half dozen flies and one brazen magpie who approached to within a couple of feet before Kathy relented and tossed him a slice of the fatty crust. She watched as he flew away with his prize then spoke.

"I checked on that measure you set up."

"And?"

"7 foot 4."

"And the breast cup?"

"You don't waste time do you?"

"Tell me."

"Double-E."

"It's all gone up in proportion."

"And how do you like this? ..."

With the knife in hand, she flexed up the four-deck bicep, the bulge at the top the size of a rugby football.

"... I threw the tape around it this morning, Tommy. Three feet exact."

"36 inches."

"Yep, the quads are 49 each ..."

"Like your chest was sixteen months ago."

"... Well that's 84 inches now."

"Seven foot around."

"I'm a big girl, Tommy, but fuck I'd love to know how much I can lift."

I nodded. I knew not what to say.

"Do you mind, Tommy?"

"What?"

She smiled and said nothing. The arms disappeared behind the back and the cotton sheet around her upper torso fell forward and away.

"I've worked too hard on getting an even tan, I hope you're cool."

I was, my cock wasn't. It twitched and went a little hard. She tossed the lamb bone away with her left hand – the power causing it to spin like a Frisbee until it hit a tree 60 metres away. Swinging her legs around she leant back on her elbows, bending her head so that her hair hung toward the ground.

"How much do you think I could lift, Tom?"

"Aw, 5000 kg, maybe 6 or 7."

My cock twitched again at the thought. I hadn't cum since my second time with Irene the day she got back from the port. I tried a bit of self-relief last night but as my cock grew and I found I couldn't get my longer fingers around the thicker shaft. I had a rush of fear that I wouldn't be able to get inside Irene – inside anyone. Ever. It destroyed the moment.

[nickolai]

And I still don't know just how big I could become – yes, I mean overall as well as down there.

I snapped out of it as the shake of Kathy's hair signalled her mind's dismissal of my response.

"I mean what do you think I can max out at? I know I can lift 5 or 6 ton. I do 3 ton so fucking easy."

"Umm, ..."

I hesitated and focused on her arm closest to me, the shoulder muscle the size of a soccer ball, the tricep – the sign of the weight lifter – the size of a large house brick.

"... 20 tons."

She smiled and moved her head to meet my gaze.

"Yes. Yes. I can do that. Let's think, what's 20 tons?"

I had no idea. I rolled over so I faced the shed.

The shed. Yes, of course.

"I have it, Kathy. Come with me to the shed."

"The shed? Nothing in there is twenty ton."

"Just trust me."

She did. As soon as I picked up the old steel bar at the back which was never used she told me she 'got it'.

"So here you are, birthday girl. So know what to do."

"This ceiling is awfully close."

"This might be the last day you'll be able to stand straight in this place. Enjoy it while you can."

"What about you, shorty? You're growing a coupla inches a day too."

"Just bend it."

Why does the expectation often fall so flat in the delivery? I had a vision of that supergirl on Smallville –whenever she bent iron bars or such she always grimaced first, like it was such an effort to use superstrength. Not Kathy. Her face identical to her 'Just another squat with 2000kg' look, the five foot steel weight bar turned into to a U shaped piece of scrap. It briefly screamed its resistance before being tossed to the side and left to lie, silent and deformed forever.

"No challenge?"

"Not really."

"Umm, what about bending a plate, err, 100kg?"

"Tommy, stop! Look at me!"

"Wha ...?"

I half turned as the blue eyed teen-behemoth took two quick strides toward me, pumping up her chest and thrusting out the expanse of sun-bronzed bosom.

"You told me, Tommy, you told me you liked girls with an even tan. ..."

Her voice demanding, I couldn't see her face. Two luscious melons the colour of cinnamon with teets of red sandalwood had invaded my vision. With her height they were level with my face. No, my face and neck. They were that big.

"... I did it for you, Tommy, I want to turn you on. I want your cock, Tommy."

I pressed my head back to meet her blazing eyes. And yes, I was turned on. I'd been in denial, in refusal more the point. Until nine hours ago she was forbidden fruit. Now it was offered to me by the serpent herself.

"I'm just so into you, Kathy, I mean I've always been hot for you. I just didn't know how ..."

I ran out of words. It was enough. Her look of mischief prevailed.

"I like being taller than you, Tommy, and I like having big tits."

"And you're stronger and more muscular."

"Do you like the new Kathy, Tom-Tom?"

Her voice turned so sweet my blood sugar surged. With the demons of my denial exorcised, the loins twitched as the vessels filled with blood. The Beast was rising.

"Your body, fuck ... superb, Kathy. Your tits, your muscles."

A nipple entered my mouth. The comparison in colour seemed consistent with its hardness and at its most erect, filled my mouth as if I had sucked on the knob of the bedside cabinet. Big, hard, my hands pressed out and across her granite laterals, the left finding the unattended breast, the right to her upper left arm.

She groaned and tore away her bottom sheet, her hands moving to my growing shoulders and back.

"You've got such fucking great muscles, Tommy. I always wanted a muscle guy to be my first."

I stopped sucking to reply.

"So what, you made me big so we could get together?"

"Maybe. But It's worked out way better than I hoped. I've always wanted you, Tommy, and I wanted you with big muscles. Now I have it all. ..."

I pressed my face into the other breast and dropped my hand to feel her giant clit. She was well finished with foreplay.

"Get that sheet off, boyfriend."

"Ugh!"

She didn't give me a chance. Her strong hands grabbed at the fabric and dispatched it as if it were a spider's web. My body jostled with the force; my cock lifting as if an elevator ascending a 60 storey tower.

"Oh. My. ..."

Kathy mouthed the blasphemy and stepped back to allow the Beast its space. Still it was not at the peak of hardness.

"... can I ... touch it?"

"Do it, please, it's still not hard."

"Is this right?"

The hand gripped and pulled like an expert. Still innocent she may be but she'd learnt something from trawling the internet.

"You've got it now, Kath, it's as hard as it gets."

"Do you want me to, umm, suck on it?"

"I'm as horny as all hell, Kathy, if you want me to be your first ..."

I swallowed hard.

"... now is the time."

She turned and bent over with legs astride, hands grabbing hold of her knees. Her girl-like wickedness returned.

"Come on, Tommy, pretend I'm over the dishwasher."

The pretence of romance well past; let us be clear this was about lust, pure and simple. I lifted my cock towards her pink labia and on touching the point of entry with the skin at the base of the eye, heard the whisper of her final permission. I allowed myself a narcissic moment to study the peak of my new manhood, a length of 18 inches, circumference of 7, the once snaking vein now the size of a power cord: it was a fitting ornament to this new woman's uber-strength.

"Ohhh, yeeaahhh."

I was surprised at the ease I slid into her. Sure she was wet – read sodden – yet I could feel for certain that I was not alone in the vigour of genitalia growth. With the ability of the Beast to fill her inner void and with application of the swivel and pace so loved by the older muscle-queen, I silently prayed that the soft moaning and offering of gratitude from beneath the extreme muscle spreading out before me would be the harbinger of a quick and intense climax. I could not hope to last and unlike my trusty seven and one half inches, I had no idea if the Beast would retain its interest once my pleasure was unleashed.

For it was Irene who had said: 'It is just so right that the first should be remembered as one of the best'.

"Oh, Tommy, oh fuck, Tommy, I think, I think this is it!"

The Beast had taken control; my new found power a mechanism for it to perform in a manner I could never have imagined. I was withdrawing and thrusting two thirds of my hardness at 75 per minute. The sound of my hips smacking against her creamy, marble-hard arse fought with her moans for control of the room. Surely, no one of lesser strength could tolerate such physicality. She yelped aloud, her dam had broken, I felt I'd blacked out for second then quaked as the Beast sent forth my love juice.

"Oh, Kathy, I feel like superman."

"Yeah, yeah, Tommy, you are superman, yeah. And superman just fucked his supergirl."

I needed to step back to withdraw – I could swear I heard a pop as the last of its length left Kathy and returned to my control. With all pride and ego I looked down upon the glistening flesh, still hard albeit not at a full peak. This was the new Tommy Akers: the teen boy with superstrength and the most massive of massive cocks, still ready in all his manhood to venerate the strength goddess rising in front of him into a full rear double bicep pose.

"Look at this body, Tommy. Look at it, feel it."

"Kathy, I can go again. Whenever you want."

"Feel me , Tommy, feel this muscle. See how big and hard it is."

"I can worship you for hours, Kathy, no effort at all."

She took a step forward and turned to face me. To face the Beast. To feel the Beast.

"This is mine now, Tommy. No one else gets it."

I laughed.

"Tell that to your mum. ..."

I had pricked the moment. She decided I needed to serve penance and used her strength to squeeze my cock. I laughed again.

"... It doesn't work, Kath. I know I'm not as strong as you but my cock is something else again. Anyway, there's something you should know."

I told her that it was simple physiology. No way could I get the Beast inside Irene. Or anyone else for that matter. There was only one girl for me because she made it so it all worked out that way. Her demeanour changed again; she wanted us to lie together in the sun.

This we did. For the remainder of the day. And like horny super-teens we thrust our bodies at each other, into each other, inside each other, until our juices were dry and our naked skin was burnt. As the sky turned from cobalt to indigo, reality set upon us.

"Mum will be home tomorrow."

"I wonder how she'll react?"

"It won't be good."

"What can she do? You're so much stronger than her now."

"And you, Tommy, you'll be able to lift her car over your head. She'll freak at that."
I sighed.

"If not tomorrow, definitely by Sunday."

"Mmm. Christmas Eve."

"What will we wear then, Kath?"

"Wear? Fuck, Tommy, we won't be able to fit inside the house."

"Umm, I think I might be levelling out but."

"You only had two tablespoons of the stuff; I've got a way to go."

"Not too far I hope."

"No, not too far, my sexy boyfriend."

Kathy knelt on one knee and kissed the head of my flaccid cock then stood, turned and walked toward the house. I involuntarily shuddered. She and the Beast were as one. I wondered how I could break into this relationship.

I watched Irene as she alighted from her car. She had an intense look. It was all I could see, the rest of her beautiful body covered by various summer garments, she must've driven the trip this morning without a break.

We waited at the scene of yesterday's love making; our bodies wrapped with sheets, mine even more so due to sunburn on my back. Our stomachs tensed as she headed toward our call of 'out here'. On seeing us for the first time she was stunned then the head dropped and shook. She turned and walked into the house.

That was unexpected.

Kathy and I knew not what to do. Irene returned within the time it took for us to argue on the next step. She wore a g-string. That's all.

"Well, don't be shy, kids, I think we should all get tanned together."

"Umm, Mum?"

"Take those ridiculous sheets off, Kathy. Come on, I want to talk about what we can do for your birthday."

"That was yesterday. Are you in denial or something?"

The sheets were dispensed with. Seated on the ground, Irene poured some baby oil on her hands and began to apply it to her massive legs; she ignored her daughter who tried a different tack.

"You know I found a bullant in that grass yesterday."

"While you and Tommy were having sex, dear?"

"One of the times, yes."

Irene looked up and smiled.

"I knew you two would. That's why I went to the City. There was no court case, I just wanted you to get it out of your system."

Any breath of wind on that hot, still day would've knocked me over.

"Mum, I'm 7 and a half foot tall. I can bend thick steel bars and toss your car around as if it's a box of matches."

"Of course you can, Kathy. Please, sit down. I doubt the ants will concern either of you too much."

As we sat, Irene stood. It allowed her to walk about as she told the tale of Gladys Munroe. There was rain on the road and Irene was driving a five year old Kathy home from a trip to the doctor. On the back road a truck going way too fast forced her car off the road and into a gutter. No one was hurt, but it needed a tow and the phone battery was flat.

Fate intervened in the broad form of Gladys. Pulling up to the side of the road, she wore a simple men's polo top with shorts and sandals that failed to disguise an extraordinary muscularity. Introducing herself, she said she could help and with the effort needed to move a bunch of dry twigs, picked up the car two handed and returned it to the road. If that was surprising, the next thing was mind blowing. Gladys told the 22 year old that she had a 'natural' build for lifting weights. Irene confided she did pump iron but wasn't getting any real improvement.

Mrs Munroe smiled and went to her car, returning with a small container of broth. She told Irene to take one tablespoon with her supper – and no more – and provided she worked out with intensity, she would improve everyday for the rest of her life. After an initial growth spurt (Irene confided she was once 5 foot 2), she put on muscle and built strength at a constant rate ever since.

"But mum, you weren't naturally strong like me."

"You aren't a natural, Kathleen. I gave you a teaspoon straight away, put another teaspoon in your milk when you were about nine and did it again just when you started lifting weights at age twelve."

"So that's a tablespoon."

"That's right. And that's why you've grown so much more than, Tommy."

"I took more than him, mum. I took about six tablespoons."

"Oh, fuck, no. There couldn't have been that much."

"No, I mean we made our own."

Irene reacted with disdain to the story of how we visited the Munroe residence and made our own potion.

"I have no fucking idea how this'll turn out, Kathy."

"Well, I'm the fucking strongest person in the world, mum, so I don't care."

"No, you're not. Mrs Munroe is."

"Did she tell you?"

"We were standing next to the ship at the dock and I joked that I could put my arm inside a porthole that was open just where we were standing and she said, 'just watch the gangway' and she grabbed the top of the porthole which was just below her shoulder, next I see the gangway go up a foot or two then down, then I hear the snap of a rope and she laughs."

"She lifted the ocean liner; one handed."

"Two hundred and fifty thousand tons, Tommy. This is what you two can look forward to."

We were awed by the thought. Still, Kathy scowled at having to wait to be the world's best. Her mother contented her with knowledge that with the amount of potion Kathy had had, she would get there soon enough. Gladys had told her after the cabin flex that she had consumed half a litre of the potion at age sixty thinking it was just soup stock and had never lifted a weight in her life. And she only made the mistake once.

But the old lady liked having muscles – it sent her libido skyward. Irene could profess to the same, so for Kathy and me? 'Good luck with that' she said.

I left the two women to discuss their future. I had to come to grips with my own. For dinner we returned to the back grass – still naked and Irene having dispensed with the modesty of the 'g'. It was so primal it was just so hot. And the moment Kathy had turned her massive back, Irene demanded that her own primal urges be attended to. It mattered not that the Beast was now gargantuan – I still had a tongue and she had a clit that needed licking.

"Don't expect me to try and suck on that thing, Tommy, you can experience the strength of my grip, that's as far as it goes."

"What about you, Irene, why don't you join us? We still have nearly half of our batch in the fridge and we're not touching it again."

"No. I've had all I said I would have."

"Oh, come on, Irene. I want to pleasure you. And you said you'd maxed out at 1900, remember?"

"Yes, yes, I did say that."

She fizzed up like shaken champagne. But she was not for turning. Sure, she really envied Kathy – but no, she wouldn't do it. No more potion!

I took matters into my own hands. I reminded her she hadn't had the second protein shake and she needed to get back to the weights the next morning. True enough she said. I prepared it for her.

With the added ingredient of most of what remained from our batch (I reckoned the same amount Kathy poured for herself the first time), Irene drank it down in one gulp. I said my good night and crossed my fingers and toes.

I awoke to the sound of a huge crash. There was laughing, the voices of Irene and Kathy. I stood from my bed on the floor and bent to look out the window.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Tommy, Tommy, come out here!"

A hand the size of a dinner plate crashed apart the plaster and masonry of the bedroom wall, creating for me an ad hoc exit.

There was Irene – naked – standing next to Kathy. Standing over, Kathy. Maybe by a foot. Everything about her was now huge. If Kathy's biceps were 37, then Irene's were 42, if calves were 28 on the younger woman, 32 on the older, and so it went. Her deltoids grown to the size of beach balls, the muscle at the peak of the bicep like a medicine ball. This was insane.

"Morning, Tommy, thought you might want to see the new me."

"Oh, fuck, Irene, I, I didn't mean this."

"Don't you like me? I mean look at my new brown boobs. They're a cup size triple-J."

"No longer just a radio station, then."

Kathy laughed at her in-joke, Irene continued.

"And look at my little trick with a 100 kilo plate. See? ..."

She bent the steel weight plate simply by closing her right hand.

"... I reckon only you'll be using the shed now, shorty."

Kathy laughed again and spoke.

"We all fucked up, Tom. Mum still had the remnants of her batch of potion stowed in the freezer. She didn't know you gave her some of our one in the protein shake and used up the rest of her own, which was quite a bit. Then I come along and put the rest of ours in mum's bedtime orange juice not knowing anything about the other two."

"So, she had?"

"Maybe a litre, Tommy."

Irene placed a seismic arm on her daughter's 'puny' delt.

"Which means I'm now the strongest and the biggest in this little household. So, Kathleen, I suggest you go and amuse yourself for the morning, because I have a bit of make-up time with Tom here."

"Okay, mum, but remember what we agreed, I get his cock this afternoon."

"You can have what's ever left, darling. ... Now, my superman, your superwoman wants a feel of this shaft of steel."

The Beast sprang to life on her super-touch. I felt that I may never control it again.

- That's the end and unfortunately Rip Harden doesn't anticipate continuing this story ... 

[Fluff]

Love it!

[phil123]

Great story and I would like to read some more.
More growing where it counts.

[fitgirlfanguy]

Where did this blast from the past come from?  This is incredible writing!

[nickolai]

You guys can find more of his stuff here:

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Be sure to send him a note on DA.  He is having a bit of a time "landing" his TSWA series and could use some encouragement.

[TheMoleUK]

A classic!

Rip is a great writer.