The Heiress

[Poddy]

Reginald's spidery fingers stretched beneath the silver platter as he approached the thick mahogany door and carefully twisted the knob. With a swift stride, he slipped his narrow frame through the doorway, carefully eyeing the mistress' protein shake. A faint glimmer of pride filled his eyes as barely a ripple shook through the yellow liquid inside, nor did the plastic-wrapped lollipop rustle beside it. He swept into the room just before his jacket tails were pinched in the heavy old door and continued toward the sounds of a teenage voice around the corner.

His eyes adjusted to the pearl white rugs, curtains and crisp sheets on the 4-post bed.

"I can't - I've got a photoshoot after class tomorrow." Reginald's ears pricked. He shouldn't have been surprised she was in her walk-in wardrobe, 'detailing', as she often put it.

His gleaming black shoes sank into the soft carpet. Decades of experience told him that an audible signal could serve him well in avoiding happening upon the young heiress between outfit changes; in that event, a cleaning the protein shake from the carpet would be the least of his worries. 

"Ivan? Ivan? Do weighted cable crunches, I can't feel anything - thank you." she chirped with a sweet menace. "I know - it's like - so annoying." she sighed.

Reginald cleared his throat as he approached the entrance to the wardrobe. The heiress continued chatting. Reginald paused, erring on the side of caution and kicked a teddy bear by his foot. It jingled loudly. He paused a step from the doorway.

"You got my shake, Reggie?" her voice drifted around the corner.

"Yes ma'am." he replied.

"I'll take it in here." Reginald nodded stiffly and slid open the doors to the wardrobe.

The corridor stretched before him. What felt like a quarter of a mile away, between two long, fully loaded rails of lavish clothing, sat Charlotte Beatrice Marcheaux, daughter of the wealthiest property magnate in New York, and sole heiress to the vast fortune it commanded. She sat in a tall-backed chair at the end of the room,in front of a 3 x 3 bank of flatscreen TVs. The hint of her New York accent became clearer as he approached, and so did her high-pitched giggles and curses.

With familiar discipline, Reginald stopped a few steps from the chair. He looked at the monitors. Each was a camera feed in the corners of a large gymnasium. On each screen, a different, impressively chiselled athlete pumped reps on a variety of exercise machines. 6 women to 3 men - Reginald assumed the one thrusting his forehead towards the floor and firing a tall stack of weights towards the ceiling was Ivan. A brunette with capped shoulders drew huge dumbbells in line with her chin, while another squatted until her ripe backside kissed the floor before driving up with her powerful legs.

"Gimme a sec" Reginald's attention turned to the heiress' platinum blonde crown as she spun round in her chair.

One tiny-looking foot rotated playfully at the end of an incredibly muscular leg. With her long legs crossed, her thighs bulged into each other at twice the width of Reginald's waist. The spandex rippled into a deep Y-shape at her crotch and princess-narrow hips, before her torso blossomed outwards until it spilled over the edges of the back of her chair. Bullet nipples sat on top of bolt-on implants. A deep slab of pectoral ran up to the nape of her pale, slender neck. She was clad from ankle to wrist in paper-white, skin-tight spandex. Her stuffed forearms were wider than the smartphone pressed to her ear, and her mighty bicep balled up with the size and sheen of Reginald's bald head.

She grinned and winked at her butler. Reginald had worked with the world's elite - the 1% of the 1% - he'd seen depravity and perversion at scales most couldn't imagine,from the lower decks of Sheiks' yachts, to the devious escapes of private jets' mile-high clubs, but the beautiful, 19-year-old face atop of a bulging, feathered, tightly packed heavyweight bodybuilder physique made them all seem tame by comparison. Her skin-tight body suit
nuzzled into every crease of her mighty physique.

Suddenly, her grinning cheeks rose higher. Her dimples in her glowing skin deepened. She seemed to shudder all over. Reginald stepped deftly aside as her legs locked out straight and just missed his knees. The heiress' painted toes splayed. Reginald looked at the white cables plugged in to her calves, thighs, torso, back, shoulders and arms, which all ran into small black box underneath the TV monitors.

"Hnhh!" Charlotte grunted gently, as every muscle of her mighty physique clenched at once.

The Y at her crotch deepened. She hunched forward slightly, and with an audible, organic creak, her fist-sized 8-pack juddered larger and tighter. The crevice between her pecs flexed shut. Her orb-like delts lifted her dangling hooped earrings, while her thighs expanded with even more definition and mass. The straining spandex left nothing to the imagination as her creaking muscles bit around it.

"Ahh." she gasped at last. Her body relaxed, or rather, released its air-tight grip on her suit.

She licked her lips then plucked the shake from Reginald's platter. She popped the top with her thumb and resumed the crass, enthusiastic conversation of a typical teenage girl. "Oh my god - you did not." she gulped down the shake in seconds, her sparkling blue eyes wide; clearly enthralled by her friend's story. She wiped her lips with a forearm that was wide enough to cover her eyes to her chin, and returned the empty shaker. Without looking at her butler, she picked up the lollipop, unsheathed it with one hand and pushed it between her plump rosy lips.

As she smacked loudly, Reginald's mind wandered back merely half a year to the beginning of Charlotte's latest obsession. Naturally, the moment she expressed an interest (to put it mildly) in fitness, and had been informed of energy transference suits like the one currently wrapped around her, it wasn't long it wasn't long before her manicured fingers were plucking a blank check from her father's hand, and the most radical prototypes were being bankrolled.

Since then, Reginald had overseen the interview process for the potential surrogate athletes, all mesomorphic pros who were promised as much iron as they could pump and as many supplements as they could desire, provided they could cope with the gruelling workouts the heiress demanded of them. The kitchen employed extra staff to keep up with her massive nutritional demands, including for her squad of muscle-bound donors.

From the first shriek of delight when she felt the suit's incredible effects, Reginald had watched her obsessively curate her own superhero physique. She'd spent hours in front of the monitors barking orders at her gym-crew while trying on a huge range of luxurious outfits on top of her suit. Then, when her thighs had been pumped up until they exploded out of denim hot pants, or her deltoids were bulging from the openings of a bodycon dress, Reginald was tasked with unzipping and removing the suit underneath her straining outfit. Only then, would Charlotte consider herself ready for the day. As a result, with the suit and her well-fuelled athletes working specific muscle groups at her beck and call, Charlotte had remoulded and remodelled herself in every shape and size that she desired. She'd originally been enthused by the Brazilian Wellness models, and desired for her glossy thighs that bulged below her taut, slender upper body. But soon, she acquired a taste of figure models, then physique. Soon, she was commanding more athletes to upper-body machines. Her suit was remade again and again to cope with her burgeoning size. In only 5 months, she had been jacked up to the size of an elite heavyweight female bodybuilder.

Her outfits became more revealing and daring - whether by choice or because her physique made anything skimpy. Though no one dared to question her choices. The number of shattered bedframes Reginald had had to order since she reached heavyweight levels told him to let the heiress do as she desired. Naturally as well her social media popularity had skyrocketed. Supplement and fitness companies were clamouring to have their name on her mighty physique.

Reginald was distracted by Charlotte's eye squeezing shut suddenly. Her lower back arched slightly. The long, straight ridge of lats creaked along the back of the leather. Her jaw clenched. Obliques running down her sides swelled to size of grapes. With a loud crunch, the lollipop stick jerked upwards. She sighed forcefully.

"Fuck - I'm getting so jacked for this shoot tomorrow." she sighed nonchalantly down the phone. She took the lollipop stick from her mouth and placed it on the platter. "One sec." she spun away from Reginald and leant towards a microphone on the desk.

"Stacey - Linda! My calves are like, super flat, can you fix that please, thank you. And Ivan. You're done - I don't want my waist any wider." she released the button and slouched back in her chair. She waved Reginald away with a limp wrist with her back turned to him. He nodded stiffly again, wheeled around on the spot and began the long march out.

"Alright. I gotta go. Love ya' bitch." He heard the chair wheels roll back. "Reggie." she called after him.

He stopped and looked back. She stood erect, looking into an expansive, gold-framed full-length mirror beside her. Side on, he saw the gravity-defying ripeness of her massive glutes as well as the staircase of her blocky 8-pack. She pivoted and posed in the mirror as she ogled herself. "No one in here for the next 10 minutes, kay?" she ran her fingers down her cobbled midriff while biting her lip. Her eyes were fixed on herself as her massive body titled and turned.

"Yes, ma'am." Reginald replied. Charlotte lifted her arms and made fists. Biceps as high as her ears punched outwards, tugging the spandex deeper into her crater-like armpit. She clutched her wrist and straightened her arms in front of her. Massive cushions of pecs leapt forwards her chin and her nipples reached beyond her toes. A horseshoe tricep bulged in the back of her arm, which she turned to inspect in her reflection. She bent her knees slightly and sank into a side-chest pose. With her hips twisted, her stuffed quads groaned twice the width of her twisted waist. "Then you can come and help me get changed." she grunted as she released her vein-fattening flex.

"Certainly, ma'am." Reginald replied, pulling his gaze away from the muscle-bounded heiress and padding away, wrestling with the arousing idea of linking a necklace around her smooth neck, running a zip up her mighty back or pulling the laces of an hourglass corset.

"Don't forget the talc - or the vaseline." she added.

Reginald tried to stifle a smile melting his grim expression. It wasn't the worst job he'd ever had.

Just a fun little scrap of an idea that's been floating around my mind for a good while. Hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think of the Heiress and her special suit.

[Poddy]

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[The First One]

That suit is definitely unique.

[El_Roy_1999]

This is a wonderful and original idea. I am impressed and I liked it a lot. If you feel like it, please continue!

[aspect]

Wow, that was amazing. Please write more!

[phil123]

Now the fun begins for Reginald. Hope the story goes on.

[j2001]

Very interesting, I'd like to see Charlotte grow even more

[sgsg69]

Interesting twist and well written..........the fact that she can have men or women feed her suit is worthy of exploration........to go where no woman has gone before!! Karma to ya!