An Eye for An Eye: From the Stealing Muscle Anthology

[taoschild]

Sevenpeight leads off the Stealing Muscle Anthology with an Eye for An Eye. Here is a little segment from his work.  The anthology is available on smashwords You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login and Amazon You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login  All profits are split between Red Cross, the Rain Forest Trust, and UNICEF
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Greg buried himself further under the covers and winced. The only thing worse than the pounding in his head was the pounding on the door. It seemed to get louder and louder. 

As with most Friday mornings, he was missing his lectures and feeling like shit. It was the last week of term and so the regular Thursday night college parties had been even bigger than usual. Having earned the moniker "Party Animal," Greg had felt compelled to go all out.  

A little voice in his head had pestered him to go to class today as the professors usually dropped some hints about what would be in the exams. This was his last year and his grades so far were anything but stellar, but a louder voice in his head told him to Parté! His popularity and looks had got him through so far, and the hotties loved his sculpted bod. He couldn't let all that go to waste.

The knocking went on, insistent and loud. Groaning, Greg dragged himself out of bed and fumbled to unlock the door to his dorm room. Who's even awake so early, he wondered groggily. 

As he turned the handle, the door was flung open, throwing him stumbling backwards. The fog in his mind evaporated as he recovered his balance and blinked at what stood in the doorway. He was having trouble processing what was going on. 

A 6' 4" amazon squeezed through the doorway and slammed the door behind herself. She loomed over Greg, a towering mountain of musculature. Her bare arms had to be 18 inches around the biceps and shredded to a freaky degree. Her forearms were only an inch or two less in girth. They were crossed over a chest that seemed cast in iron. 

Lower down, her thighs were covered in wet-look black leggings that clung to each hyper-sized quad head. The material was distorted over shapes its designer had never foreseen, but the leggings were meant to show off the body they were attached to. Through the material exquisitely detailed striations were discernible across each sheared off plane of those impossible thighs. 

"Hello Greg," the woman said curtly, almost spitting out the name like it left a dirty taste in her mouth. 

Greg's attention, swallowed till now by the improbable gravity of this Amazonian warrior, snapped up to her face. There was something familiar about that face, but at the same time, something different. Greg's still slightly inebriated brain rummaged around in his disorganized memory banks. Did he know this woman?

She registered his confusion. "You remember me, right Greg? Lurch?!" She almost screamed the last word, causing Greg to wince again. And then it rushed back to him.

"Lurch," he thought, "but how did she know that we called her that?" He recalled a tall, awkward girl from his senior year in high school. She had been his fourth or fifth conquest that year. They had done it on the couch while his parents were away one weekend. He fondly remembered bedding seven girls by the end of the year. That had cemented his name in the stud hall of fame for the school. He doubted the record had been broken in the years since. 

But what was lurch doing here, now, he wondered. And what the hell was her name again? And what on earth had happened to her?

He remembered a sickly-looking girl, with a rail-thin body, no bust at all, gangly limbs, straightened hair that had a bit of an oily air to it. He even remembered her terrible taste in clothing. There might have been a few redeeming elements, like her high cheekbones and sparkling almond eyes. Back then, he only cared about stats, about how many girls had succumbed to his charms. He was more discerning now and would never be willingly associated with a creature such as he remembered. 

But the colossus before him now was an entirely different beast. Every inch of her was rippling, bulging muscles. The stunning eyes and cheeks were the same. However, they were set in magnificent ebony skin, her hair was a daring, sculpted Afro; her outfit, a sleeveless black turtleneck and black slinky leggings, was immaculate; and although Lurch had been tall, this behemoth towered over him. He looked down and realized she was wearing 4-inch stiletto ankle boots. So, she was tall, but not impossibly taller than the girl he remembered. Maybe it really was Lurch.

What was her damn name again? Melissa maybe, or Melanie...

"Do you know why I'm here... Greg?" Lurch asked, in a dangerously quiet whisper. Of course, he did not, but he had enough of a sense of self-preservation to not admit that. He stayed quiet.

"Three long years ago, you stole my heart." It sounded utterly incongruous coming from this domineering woman and Greg struggled to remember the details of what had happened with ... Lurch.

"And with it," Lurch continued, "my innocence. 'You're not like the other girls, Michelle...'" she said in a twee falsetto — Michelle! That was it! — "'I like you because you're exactly who you want to be, and I can be myself around you too.'"

Greg blinked rapidly. Did he really offer up such tripe? And did Lurch — Michelle — actually buy it?

Her voice returned to its normal timbre which, it now struck Greg, was a good few octaves deeper than he remembered from senior year. In fact, it was even deeper than his own. "But back then," Michelle continued, "I was just another notch on your bedpost. You used me and discarded me. As soon as you could brag to your friends that you'd bedded another gullible trollop, you dropped me like a hot potato!" She was shouting again, angry veins pulsing in the middle of forehead, an exclamation mark in the center of a clear, beautiful face. The pounding in Greg's head was back, accompanied now by a churning in his belly. 

"So..." intoned Michelle in a resonant bass, apparently calming down, "I decided I was going to steal something back from you." She smirked. "First, I thought you stole my heart, so I'd steal yours... I knew what a bit of makeup and hair jazz could do for a girl. But I quickly realized how pathetic that was!" She practically spat the sentiment, her strong eyebrows knitting together. 

"The poor, disfigured monstrosity, chasing after someone who would never want her..." Michelle was clenching and unclenching her fists as she spoke, causing a cacophony of tendons and veins to ripple and squirm on oak tree forearms. Her fists, Greg noticed now, were covered by black latex gloves. His hands went clammy and sweat began to soak the collar of his t-shirt. What the fuck was this?

"No," resumed Michelle, "I wasn't going to 'steal your heart...'" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "It was below my dignity. And then it hit me! Dignity... I'm going to steal... your... dignity!" Her voice was giddy now, growing with inverse proportionality to Greg's despair. Her latex-clad hands clenched into fists once more, harder than before, causing the joints of her fingers to crack loudly and her already-impressive forearms to detonate with power and mass. 

Michelle smiled serenely and took a stride forward, her Herculean legs eating up the distance between them. Greg involuntarily shrank back. 

[taoschild]

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[QBikk]

Good story in a really fun anthology. If you are curious about it, have a look!

[taoschild]

Thanks Qbikk, I think sevenpeight is an excellent author and a great part of our compilation. Here is another small part of his fun revenge story...
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She stopped just short of his crumpled figure and gave an account of what she'd done to prepare for this day. Years of daily gym visits before and after work. A punishingly strict diet. Every spare penny spent on supplements. Sleeping on a hard floor in an apartment the size of a closet in the most rundown part of town, her only furniture — a pull-up bar that doubled as a clothes rack. Martial arts classes twice a week. 

Without taking her eyes off him, she reached out her long, muscular left arm, causing meaty lats to unfurl on that side. Suddenly her big arm jerked up and back down, crashing into his wash sink, which loudly shattered into a thousand pieces, taking the tap and spout with it and causing the exposed water pipe to spray all over the room. Greg peed himself a little before catching control of his bladder. Michelle calmly reached out again and grasped the pipe with her latex-gloved hand. Calmly she squeezed the heavy cast iron shut. It shrieked in protest before the water slowed to a dribble. 

Then, she continued, there was the last 6 months of live MMA practice. That had been particularly exciting. Building upon the martial arts, it had really taught her how to inflict some serious damage. Michelle's recollections sent shivers down both their spines for entirely different reasons. She spun around in a lightning fast roundhouse kick and shattered the mirror above the sink, splintering the wood of the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and causing its contents to spill all over the floor. 

The scene looked like a war zone. Greg stared at the mirror, his mind fixating on it in an effort to process the radically unexpected events of the morning. "Oh sweetie," cooed Michelle in a gravelly half whisper, "you don't need to worry about the mirror... you've got seven years of bad luck right... here...". She drew herself up to her full commanding height. 

[taoschild]

A little more from Sevenpeight's story..
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Greg still couldn't bring himself to say anything and Michelle could tell. "I'll tell you the plan" she said, taking a seat next to him on the bed. Her shoulder, so large that it was flat across the top, invaded his personal space. He was eye-level with heavy triceps of grotesque proportion, a sculpture of lurid muscular detail. "First, I'm going to expose what a perv you are." She waited a beat for a response that, wisely for Greg, didn't come. "Then, I'm going to show everyone how fucking stupid you are." Still no response from Greg. "And then... I'm going to show everyone how weak you are." 

The first one seemed unfair to Greg, though he could accept the other two. He knew he wasn't the smartest guy in many rooms. And next to this amazon, he accepted that he wasn't always the strongest, though in this department, he at least held his own against most men. But he struggled to find fault with his sexuality. Even back in senior year, he thought he'd been a cut above in wining and dining the fairer sex. Maybe it was just sour grapes. Still, he knew better than to quarrel with the woman staring down on him. 

Michelle leaned forward. Her already humongous triceps morphed and hardened, simultaneously growing and becoming even more shredded. "Time for your first humiliation... let's go." She stood up and opened the door. 

[taoschild]

Greg was convinced that Michelle was completely unhinged. And she was obviously dangerous. Fearing what she might do to him while they were alone, he scurried to the closet to get his clothes. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Michelle screamed, leaving the doorway and storming back into the room. "I didn't tell you to dress! I told you we were going!" She grabbed Greg by the hair and pulled him out to the corridor. "You are going to learn that when I tell you to do something," she hissed, "You do that thing. Just that thing. And immediately. Now follow me." She let go of Greg and strode ahead, Greg trotting behind her in his boxers and old t-shirt.
 
He trailed Michelle to the class he had thought he was skipping for the day. The sense of dread redoubled in his stomach. She obviously knew what classes he took. She must have been stalking him. Students were filing into the class, and Greg and Michelle were caught up in the crowd. Uniformly, they looked awestruck at Michelle, some admiringly, some torn, some confused, some masking their emotions, but all captivated. Most didn't even notice Greg trailing in her wake. Those that did were either amused at his disheveled state or unimpressed at what they assumed to be frat boy antics. A couple of girls looked disgusted at his slovenly garb. 

[Jak Cratocles]

This was surprisingly fun. The narrator of the story starts as pretty thoroughly unlikable and shallow, and witnessing his progressive humiliation- and it is progressive as the story continues- is immensely satisfying. Even though the end is a bit extreme for my tastes, it feels totally fair and right in the context of the story being told.

If you enjoy what you've seen here, you really ought to consider picking up the rest of the story (and the rest of the book, with a bunch of stories) on taoschild's Snashwords page: You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login

[taoschild]

A little more from Sevenpeight's lead off short story in the Stealing Muscle anthology for charity (available on Smashwords & Amazon)
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On the walk over, Michelle had told Greg to sit two rows behind her and four seats over. As the class took their seats, Greg did as he was told. The lecture began. Of course, for Greg, the professor might as well have been speaking in tongues. He couldn't concentrate on anything other than Michelle. He was consumed by worry. 

But the long hour drew on and nothing seemed to be happening. The professor droned on. Michelle began to fidget halfway through the hour and Greg sat up and took notice. There was a weirdly beautiful symphony of muscles in front of him. He was unexpectedly entranced by it.  Back muscles popped and bulged. Triceps developed ravines that cut through great jutting edifices and disappeared into shadowy valleys. 

He'd never really thought about muscles other than his own and how they compared to those of other men. As he looked at her, he saw the muscles as strangely erotic. Looking down he found that his member had become erect at the sight of her. But not just erect, so urgently erect that it was protruding through his flap of his boxer shorts. Mortified he looked around to find a gaggle of women behind him snickering and whispering to each other as they looked at him. He tried to push his embarrassment down which only caused an uproar of laughter. A bunch of other students and the professor looked over to see what the fuss was about "Ugh!" he heard from another corner behind him, "disgusting." He reddened in desperate humiliation. Michelle didn't react at all.

[taoschild]

At the end of the class, the statuesque ebony beauty stood up and clicked her fingers. Remembering the dread he'd experienced earlier, Greg composed himself as best he could and hurriedly got up to follow her. The other students gave him a wide berth. 

They were halfway back to his dorm when Michelle turned to face him, causing Greg to freeze in his tracks. "Rumors spread like wildfire Greg... Lurch is a slut... Greg is a pervert... strike one for Greg's dignity. I'll see you Tuesday morning." She peeled off, and Greg watched her impossibly hard, impossibly shapely glutes bunch and pop as she swaggered off. He was simultaneously feeling sick and turned on. His dick was hard as a rock, the tent in his boxers obvious for everyone to see.
He returned to his dorm in a daze. Tuesday... three long days away... and the day of his first exam.

Greg spent the next few days in a state of nervous distraction. He couldn't focus on his studies. He repeatedly contemplated telling someone about what had happened, and repeatedly came to the same conclusion; he didn't know who to tell or what to tell them. It defied belief and there was no evidence. Sure, there was a mess in his room and people had seen Michelle in class. It was impossible to miss her. But there was no evidence she had actually done anything aside from existing.

So instead, Greg stayed in his room as much as he could, watching television, listening to music and trying to occupy his mind. And when that failed, he wanked. He'd gone from never having thought about female muscles to being obsessed by them. He searched for female muscles online, watched clips of them in competitions, concocted scenarios, homemade pornos. He yearned after their strength, confidence and charisma. He salivated over their hard bodies - traps that threatened to swallow thick, overdeveloped necks, quads larger than his own waist, and engorged clits. He'd lost track of how many times he'd ejaculated to this new cornucopia of eroticism.

[taoschild]

  One last installment. If you'd like to read the rest of the story and the whole anthology please check amazon You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login or smashwords You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login
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Tuesday morning came in a rush. Greg was a nervous wreck. He had literally been biting his nails and he was skittish as he walked towards the exam hall, starting at sounds and jumping at shadows. How strange then that he didn't perceive Michelle's approach until a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, once again wrapped in latex. "Greg!" She said in a chirpy boom, causing Greg to jump out of his skin. 

The hand clamped down on his shoulder, causing a jarring pain to bolt through Greg's body. "Did you think we were done?" Her voice was filled with a giddy mirth. Greg stayed silent.

There were other people around now as the two of them continued toward the exam hall, Michelle's hand an unrelenting vice on Greg's shoulder. "You're going to go in there... and you're going ... to... fail." Greg instinctively flinched, starting to turn his head towards Michelle. The vice on his shoulder tightened, causing cords of muscle and sinew to explode with power, easily exceeding 18 inches in girth and causing Greg to stifle a scream, settling for a moan of pain.