+Notable Author: [fighterpilot909] Stories~collected

[fp909]

Susie was very serious about her statement, and she stuck to it. Every night after dinner (and of course finishing her homework) she showed up at the gym to pump serious iron. The first few weeks were tough sledding—she was weaker than she thought and had to lower the weights and reps on her program, but as she continued to eat well and recover better, the weights became more manageable. In fact, once she got over that initial hump her gains started to come at what seemed a daily rate.

Fortunately it was getting chillier outside as October came. She hadn't been to a single football game, and her new schedule had severely diminished her social life. Somehow she managed to continue her relationship with Calvin, but things were a little different. Her normal clothes were becoming noticeably tighter around her shoulders and back, her jeans tighter around her butt and thighs. The only things that fit were sweats and leggings, which she decided to not to wear anymore—they were too formfitting and showed her changing physique. Everyone would notice and that wasn't the kind of attention she wanted, at least not yet.

Calvin didn't seem to notice her change in wardrobe and never said anything about their relationship. His team was having a phenomenal season, rolling over all comers. His mailbox seemed to receive a college offer weekly and everything was looking up. As long as their relationship was stable, he was happy.

October and November were the months that Susie started to really see the impressive effects of her family genetics. The sized-up sweats she had been wearing for the past month were now starting to stretch over her shoulders and chest, which had lost the roundness from breasts and now had the curvature from pectorals.  The first people to see her significant strides in strength were her crossfit classmates. During mid-November, they ran a string of days to retest classic crossfit workouts. Grace, thirty clean and jerks for time, was on Monday. Usually the weight for women was ninety-five pounds, but somewhere during her initial months of lifting she hadn't found it adequate, and loaded her bar up with 135 pounds, the men's weight.  Still wearing her baggy-ish sweatpants and hoodie, she finished the workout in fifty-nine seconds, an impressive time for a guy, but insane for a girl working at the men's weight, even more impressive when you factored in that she was basically muscle cleaning and strict pressing the weight overhead.

On Tuesday they tested the crossfit total—the one-rep max lift for squat, overhead press, and deadlift. She hadn't really done a lot of max effort work as her program had a lot of volume, but it sure was working. On Tuesday, Susie deadlifted 515 pounds, strict pressed 235 pounds, and squatted 460 pounds. Still full of energy she decided to test her bench press and put up 315 pounds. Across all of her lifts, save for her bench press, her numbers outpaced the leaderboard for the men. She couldn't make classes for the rest of the week but on her own decided to do heavy Grace—well, men's heavy Grace, and heavy Isabel, 30 snatches for time. With incredible power and technique, she did both workouts back to back, showing incredible efficiency and speed with her power cleans and push jerks and power snatches. Her finals times: Grace in 1:05, Isabel in 1:15.

At this point, it wouldn't be unfeasible for people to start noticing maybe a significant change in her size. She thought it was odd too that no one was commenting until she took her first progress photos and got an objective look at her physique. She didn't look like a bodybuilder at all, to her surprise. Instead she looked more like a brawny gymnast, still with bulging muscles but nothing out of the realm of possibility. At least for someone training for a decade. The real surprise, however, was what happened when she flexed.

Well, when she really flexed.

Her classmates often asked her to show off her muscles and would oblige, but never more than a tense to make her chest or arms bulge. Her small body frame and height made even that seem huge—her arms were an impressive fifteen inches when she did that, her chest and abs would bulge, and her thighs almost twenty-five inches around. But she never showed them what she could really do, and she kept that to herself. She had discovered it one day while admiring her body in the mirror after a shower, her body glistening from the water before she toweled down. She appreciated every nook and cranny of her chiseled physique—the way her shoulders rounded out, the seemingly permanent cleavage formed by her pecs and they way that her breasts had completely receded, the skin tightening around her muscular pectorals, the ribbed muscle of her serratus and they way it built up into an Adonis belt. She brought her arm up to flex and the fifteen inch ball of muscle as she brought her forearm up. Smiling, she reached over to squeeze it, but then realized, she wasn't done yet. She didn't even feel like she was flexing that hard. So she flexed.

Her bicep literally doubled in height, immediately, and her eyes widened. She squeezed harder and it kept growing, reaching her fist. She didn't even have to mover her hand to unfurl her fingers and trace the bicep vein on top.  Though she got a pump during her workouts, she had never seen her arms grow bigger than her first "flex" and was so surprised by what had just happened that she inadvertently spent the next thirty minutes exploring her new ability. She knew this would probably be an...interesting surprise for Calvin when he finally got to see what was going on. But, there was still a month left before football season ended and plenty of work to put in.


December rolled around and Calvin's team was bounced from the state playoffs. Regardless, they had a party at his house to blow off some steam, inviting the usual suspects: some friends on the team, classmates, some cheerleaders, and Susie, who he hadn't interacted with in a few weeks other than via text message. The party started on time, though Susie was late, and even though he was having fun with his friends around, he would keep on glancing at the door to see if she was there, or at his phone for some kind of status update.

In some kind of fortuitous timing, she showed up as the party was starting to wind down, everyone's energy petering as it got late. Still, the boys decided they were going to have an arm wrestling contest, a classic test of strength. Susie quietly entered from the back door wearing her now ubiquitous sweat suit combo while the final match of the night was going on but didn't see anything other than a huddle of yelling teenagers before a pair of fists appeared in the air as the winner, a three-hundred pound defensive lineman, won it all. Susie pushed her way into the circle.

"Hey guys, what's going on," she asked.

Calvin walked up to her and kissed her on the cheek. "Oh you know just some friendly football shenanigans, nothing important."

The lineman, still seated, jabbed a finger in his direction. "You're just mad cuz you lost bro." He looked at Susie. "He's just mad that I'm the strongest on the team."

She coolly looked at him, and smiled. "Actually, I'm sure you're not the strongest in this room."

The lineman scoffed. "Who else is there? I'll take them on, whoever it is."

Susie sat at the table and offered up her arm. "It's me. I'll take you on. But if I win," she said, looking around the room, "everyone goes home."

Calvin chuckled. "And when you lose?"

Susie turned to face him, twisting her upper body. "Then you'll get the night of your life, I promise."

The small crowd 'oohed' and whistled, and the lineman put his beefy arm on the table, visibly dwarfing her arm and hand. Their hands locked, and it looked almost comical. Calvin put his hands over theirs and counted down.

"Three..." Susie looked around the room, visibly bored.

"Two..." The lineman leaned forward in his chair, ready to pounce.

"One..." Susie checked her nails on her other hand.

"Go!"  Immediately the lineman tried to push his size advantage, throwing his considerable weight and strength behind his arm....but Susie's fist didn't move. In fact, there were no signs of effort on her part at all. He struggled for half a minute before he grunted behind clenched teeth: "Are you even trying?"

"Not yet," she said with a smirk. "Do you want to use both arms?"

He didn't need to be asked twice and got up so that he could pull against her one arm with both of his, plus his entire body weight. And still nothing. The crowd was jeering, cheering her on and simultaneously wondering what was happening. And then suddenly, something did happen, as in a flash she threw her arm down, flipping him over the table and into the crowd, knocking down four people.

The room was silent.

"Everyone out. Now." She said quietly.

They hastily gathered their stuff and filed out the door, confused, but suddenly not wanting to get themselves in some type of trouble. So it was Calvin and Susie, together alone for the first time in a while in his living room.

"Susie...what the hell was that?" he wondered aloud, quietly.

She got up out of the chair and grabbed him by the elbow. "Lets take this to the garage." She led him into the frigid garage—there was a layer of dust on the equipment from disuse as he had been doing all of his workouts at the school gym. She ran a finger through a layer of dust and clucked her tongue. "Didn't use these this much this year, huh?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, not really, I have the weight room at school."

"Not even to do some extra work to get ahead of everyone?"

"I mean, who would I be trying to stay ahead of?"

"Oh...I dunno," she said, pulling off her sweatshirt and sweat pants, "Maybe your girlfriend."

Underneath her sweat shoot she was clothed head to toe in white spandex, just a half size too small, her athletic but brawny body filling out the fabric easily. She wasn't huge, still her muscular gymnast size that she carried while not flexing, but compared to where she had started four months prior she seemed huge to Calvin. He didn't know what quite to think—he hadn't seen the cute body he had last seen in the summer for months so this was quite the revelation, but surprising considering he had secretly been trying to get her to work out with him for a while, which is why he always invited her to his gym.

You see, Calvin was a closeted muscle-phile. A full-blown sickness that could only be cured by the most muscular of women. No one suspected because there wasn't an outlet for him to express it. There were no girls in school like he liked, and Susie was the closest he had ever come. He knew that she had potential, he knew her family history and had seen her little sister flipping around her house already sporting a muscular build. And now she was standing before him looking better than anyone he had ever seen—she looked like the mannequins they used to advertise sports brands, just more muscular. Thicker, even. He liked it, and Susie noticed.

"Oh, so you do like what I've done," she said with a mischievous glint in her eye, "Well, why don't I show you what it is I can actually do. Spot me, will you?"

She lay down on the bench press, currently loaded with just one 45 pound plate on each side, and started banging out reps as he walked around the stand behind her head. Thirty, forty, fifty reps later she finally finished. "Ah, good warm up, let's put some weight on now." Grabbing two more forty-five pound plates per hand, she passed her wide-eyed boyfriend as she loaded the bar up.

"Wait, are you crazy? There's no way you can bench 315, I mean, I can only do that for a couple of reps and I'm way bigger than you," said Calvin, "This is crazy!"

"That's the thing," she said with a small grunt as she pressed the bar out of the rack and started to slowly but easily rep the loaded bar, "not only am I stronger than you, but I'm definitely bigger than you too." Twenty reps later, with a good pump, she sat up and stretched a bit. "Do you still have that measuring tape in the desk?"

"Yeah," he said, still bewildered.

"Go get it," she said as she rolled her neck. He did as he was told and brought the tape over from the desk in the corner. "Now go ahead and measure yourself."

He wrapped the tape around his arm and flexed. "Seventeen and a half," he stated, "And that's without a pump." He handed her the tape and she did the same.  Trying to stay neutral but having trouble, he was floored as huge rock appeared on her arm. "Eh, seventeen flat," she said with a smirk," with a little bit of a pump." He wasn't sure how she had managed to grow that arm but she looked bigger than really anyone he had ever seen, and he now understood, somewhat, how she had dominated his lineman. "Not bad, right? But I'm just getting started, I have so much to show you."

She grabbed another two forty-fives from the rack, emptying it out, and put them on the bench, the bar now loaded to 405 pounds. This was way over anything Calvin had seen anyone bench press before, even the hardcore trainers in the gym but she moved around the bar confidently, like it was no big deal for her.

"I need you to give me a little help this time—when I say so I want you to push on the bar for me."

"Y-you want me to push on the bar? You don't want me to spot you?"

"You really thing you could save me if this weight fell?"

"Well...no not really."

"I didn't think so. Besides, if anything happens I know how to handle myself." She slide under the bar and breathed, pushing the bar up with a little struggle. Testing the weight she lowered it down to her slightly thickened chest, testing the weight, and pressed it up—with effort but without getting stuck on the way up. She repeated it a few more times before grunting to him, "Ok now."

Hesitant, he started to push on the bar as she continued to bench press, but he didn't seem to be slowing her down. "More," she grunted as she continued to lift. "Give me everything you got." So he did, and pressed hard on the bar, which made her stop mid lift, and the bar started lowering back to her chest. He let up a little bit, he didn't want to slam the bar on her chest but she nearly shouted at him. "No! I said keep pushing harder!" He pressed full force again, but this time she steeled her gaze and fought against the bar, slowly taking over and pushing it up. He could only imagine how much weight she was actually handling, the barbell plus the full force of his own strength. He could see her chest growing a bit larger and the sweat underneath her clothes starting to make her top more transparent, showing more details of her physique—cuts and striations and bulges that he wasn't even sure that he had.

Finally she was able to finish the rep, and then he felt the bar starting to lower again—but this time at the bottom she paused—"Push as hard as you can again, I promise you don't want to miss this." HE did as she was told, and he saw the bar denting her muscular chest, but suddenly the bar was moving, and then so was he as she pushed the bar up fast, so fast that he actually flew backwards off of the bench rack. Somehow the second rep had been easier than the first!

"Mmf that felt pretty good," she said, sitting up again and stretching. "Now about that size thing. You're going to want that tape again," she said, tossing him the tape from the floor.

He caught it midair and cautiously approached her, unsure what was going to change from a few minutes ago, maybe another half inch of pump? His head was already spinning and he hoped there wouldn't be any more surprises.

She brought her arm up again and "flexed". "Go ahead and touch it," she said, "You know you want to!" His hand reached up and grabbed her upper arm and...it was soft. There was no way her bicep was actually flexed and that soft. The shock registered on his face and she noticed. "Yep, exactly, I'm not even flexed, so you might want to hold onto that tape," she said as he wrapped it around her arm—it read eighteen inches.

Then she actually flexed, and her bicep started to rise higher and higher, pushing inches of tape out of the way, growing up to her fist, and then pushing her forearm out to accommodate more fantastic peak. As her arm grew the fabric started to stretch to its limits, and past them, as tears started to appear in the fabric around her arm as she began to flex out of her sleeve. When the sleeve finally burst, the tape read forty-nine inches on the dot. Calvin almost gagged—he had never seen an arm like that ever. And she wasn't done yet.

"See? I told you I'm bigger. And that's not all, I can grow everywhere. Do you want to see?"

Now, at this point, Calvin had gotten over his initial shock and his lust for female muscle had taken over. He was almost drooling as he nodded blankly, of course wanting to see more.

Just to even out her quickly disappearing outfit, she flexed her other arm and quickly burst the sleeve on that arm as well. Smiling she turned to face him in her now sleeveless, damp white top. Knowing that she had his total attention she started to flex her chest, putting her arms behind her waist and thrusting her chest forward at him. He watched in awe at her pumped chest as she flexed it, the mounds of muscle that were appearing looking like a surging storm front as they pushed forward and up and down and sideways. The two pulsating muscles quickly overwhelmed her top, first splitting it vertically down the front at her cleavage, turning it into more of a collared vest, not that it mattered as her chest now pushed the separated fabric to the sides, completely exposing her chest and her npples.

Calvin blushed—this was the first time she had ever let him see her nude, though he wasn't expecting it to be under these circumstances. Her chest looked ridiculous, cartoonish even, something straight out of his purest fantasies. They looked like two large watermelons perched on her frame, rock solid watermelons with pulsating veins and cuts you could lodge a quarter in.

"Remember when I said I could flex everything?" she asked, staring right into his eyes, a gaze he could barely hold as he kept on trying to look right at her chest. "Well, I meant everything. Mmf," she grunted, and his eyes when right back to her chest as he noticed a bit of movement, her nipples twitching slightly enough to catch his attention, but then suddenly expanding rapidly, growing inches in just a moment. Her nipples weren't the only thing growing, as he started to sprout a boner in record time. She couldn't see it yet, there was too much pec in the way, which he was grateful for.

Obviously proud of herself, she relaxed just a little bit which gave her some more range of vision, and she grinned when she saw the tent he was pitching.

"So you like it, huh?" She grinned mischievously. "You may not like this but I'm pretty sure I've got you beat down there too."

"What??"

"Yeah, you better check this out, mmmmf," she said, her face screwed up in concentration. He looked down at her crotch and watched in fascination as she started to pitch a tent of her own, a small bump forming that steadily grew as her clit filled with blood as she flexed. It grew and grew, pushing out into the center seam of the pants and actually splitting it at it overpowered the stretching fabric. He was able to see it in all its glory, two throbbing veins supplying it with blood. It was big, embarrassingly big, and she moved to stand next to him to compare shafts, ripping off his pants for a better view. She giggled uncontrollably.

"Look at that! I told you I was bigger. Look I know you're above average but you just can't beat this muscular clit of mine." She grabbed the tape measure from his grasp and measured herself. "Damn...ten inches. That's pretty outrageous. And it's pretty strong too, here," she grabbed his leg and put his foot on her clit. "Step up, it can hold you!"

He brought his other foot up and using her head for balance, stood up on her ungodly clit, balancing his full weight on it.

"This is....this is unreal," he whispered. "What is happening?"

"Which part? You mean when I flexed arms three times bigger than yours, or flexed my nipples, or showed you I have a clit larger than your hard dick?"

"Well, yeah, all of it!"

She scooped him up off her clit with one arm and put him on the floor. "It's easy, I just hit the weights. Now I know you want to see more, and I promise I'll show you more but you have to show me that you really like the new me, and that you weren't just saying back then that you'd love me any way I looked."

"I do, I really do I swear!"

She waggled her clit in front of his face. "Then show me, don't tell me."

Greedily, he took in her clit into his mouth—it felt weird, rubbery, warm, hard. He had to suppress his gag reflex as it filled his mouth as he sucked and licked it. She moaned in appreciation as she put her hands on his shoulders for a little support, and he continued to pleasure her. It was so sensitive when she flexed it and she had been waiting so long to do something with it, and hadn't cum is weeks in preparation. It didn't take long for her orgasm to build until she could hold it in no more, and she grabbed him and pulled his mouth off of her clit, not wanting to hurt him in her throes of passion as she bucked her hips violently, ropes of thick girl-spunk spewing out from her vagina and travelling along the length of her shaft. Her sex was just as impressive as the rest of her.

She collapsed backwards with a loud thud, her arms and chest and clit now receding back to their normal size as she relaxed, returning back to her heavy gymnast build as Calvin lay next to her, clearly in pain from the throbbing of his own penis.

"You need a little help with that?" she asked cutely. "Look over here, and pleasure yourself."

He turned his head to look as she lay on her back, clearly trying to get a rise of him and he bit his lower lip and started to masturbate furiously as he saw her sex mound start to grow again, now without the distraction of any other huge muscles. It grew and grew straight up, he couldn't explain why it turned him on so much but his hand moved faster to bring him to orgasm, watching as her clit grew past the ten inches it had been before, easily adding another two inches to it's impressive length. He came, then, spewing his own cum straight up where it fell onto his belly and legs as he finished.

"Just wait until I actually start working that thing out," she thought to herself.

[fp909]

⚡ Support Saradas

Keep the archive alive with Bitcoin

1QDxcxUx8pnsZvauyVxTqaJrWkeNhQrPdK

Donate →

[phil123]

I hope for more
I hope Susie Gets Fitter and Bigger

[fp909]

If you like this story and would like to read more like it make sure to check out my Patreon!  A $4 pledge you'll get stories that I tailor specifically for the site, with a little extra character, a little more explicit behavior and themes, and sometimes more extreme situations!

www.patreon.com/fp909

----------

Housewife
by fp909

Peggy stood in front of the brand new color TV her husband had purchased, watching the daily episode of The Price Is Right while she ironed laundry. The phone rang and she sighed, setting the hot iron aside before quickly skipping to the hallway where the house phone sat on a recessed bookshelf.

"Manning house. Oh hi Jane, how are you?"

She grabbed the phone in the cradle of her palm and walked it into the living room, leaving it on the coffee table while cocking her head to secure the receiver between her ear and shoulder as she went back to ironing as she spoke.

"I'm fine, thank you, just doing some laundry. Thank you for dinner last week, by the way, I need to get that pot roast recipe from you."

Jane was a good friend of hers, and lived around the corner. They saw each other frequently as they both spent their days at home and took lunch together a few times a week. She usually called in during the day to chat.

"Do you want to do lunch today? What? You're packing? Packing for what?" She continued to iron before placing it down and rubbing her face with her free hand and feigning excitement in her voice.

"A cruise? That's a wonderful surprise! I wish John would surprise me with something like that. Thanks for letting me know, though, take plenty of pictures for me! Bye now!"

She hung up the phone and was inches away from flinging it against the wall in frustration.  Jane seemed to be on a real run of luck lately, having gotten some new appliances and now a surprise vacation. Or maybe it was the nice raise her husband had gotten and he decided to spend it lavishly on her. Not that Peggy had it bad--John treated her very well and their marriage was secure. But it was also boring, and she couldn't remember the last surprise from their marriage of six years. There were new appliances, sure, and clothes, but he usually announced them before she saw them. Even a vacation would be nice, even if it wasn't surprise--they hadn't left the state since their honeymoon.

Not that he wasn't paid well; he was a rising executive and made plenty of money for their house and the bills, and had bought a new automobile just last month. And she was happy! Or satisfied, at least. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. The issues only came up when her friends seemed to be the beneficiaries of more generous husbands.

She finished up her ironing and went to change into something a little more comfortable for cooking--she had some clothes she could get dirty, a shirt with the sleeves cut off and some slacks, along with an apron. It was rare that she wore something without sleeves, or that showed a lot of skin outside of her house. Peggy was only twenty four, and had married John at nineteen after meeting him one day at the side of the road when his car had broken down in the countryside outside of the city. She had been working outside when he pulled his car to the side of the road and after helping repair his car (she had learned to work on motors from her father on the farm), they had hit it off, started going steady, and had gotten married in the space of six months.

Having grown up on a farm, and an only child, she had helped her father from as soon as she was old enough to walk, first collecting eggs every morning, then helping with the animals as she got older, and then more manual labor as her father aged and found it more difficult to bend over to work at times. Consequently, her body was...unconventional by popular standards. She wasn't svelte like was the ideal at the moment, nor did the have the curves that girls like to keep until they started having kids. No, her shoulders were just a little broader, waist and legs a little thicker, hands a little rougher. She was very good at the work, strong and capable, but at the time she had thought she might never get married.

She was most ashamed of her arms. Maybe ashamed wasn't the right word. She appreciated what her arms had allowed her to do on the farm, and how they made routine housework and suburban upkeep easy for her--in fact, John rarely had to do any yard work because she was so knowledgeable and it allowed him a measure of relief to leave her the responsibility which, he claimed, had been part of his success at work. She cooked, cleaned, mowed, trimmed, planted, watered. But they rarely went out, hadn't vacationed. She suspected why, too. John was an odd fellow, normal by all accounts but with what might be considered counter-culture interests behind closed doors. That first time they had met, he had been overly excited about the size and musculature of her arms, repeatedly asking if he could touch them or if she could make a muscle.  He later admitted to being a fan of strong women, rare as they were, and seemed ecstatic to have run into her. She had no knowledge of strong women, having grown up with only a radio, and the strong woman culture being very localized, just not where she was.

Unfortunately, not everyone was as thrilled about her body as she was, and though she had been confident in her body before their honeymoon, because no one had ever made comments about it, their vacation in south Florida had drawn a lot of unwanted attention and ridicule because to everyone else, she looked like a man. Peggy had become withdrawn after that and wore long sleeves and slacks when outside the home, and John rarely if ever took her places in case the same situation would arise.

The crazy thing was that even though she hated what people thought about her muscles, she loved her body all the same, and since the suburban life didn't offer her many physical challenges, and John still loved that she was strong and muscular, she had lobbied him for some weightlifting equipment to help keep her shape. They had needed to shop in person rather than via catalog since she wasn't sure how strong she was, really, and needed to test out weights but had eventually settled on an array of dumbbells ranging from fifty to one hundred pounds, and a barbell plus a bench with plates that she could add on her own. She was much stronger than the average man, and far stronger than the average woman and in the years since she had gotten those weights she had continue to progress in strength, now using the fifty pound dumbbells to warm up rather as the actual work, as had been the case when she had purchased them. She loved the way her arms felt after doing some curls and if a professional bodybuilder had seen them they would be considered over-trained at this point, her arms nearing fifteen inches relaxed (John had measured them). Before starting to cook and finding herself with a hole in her schedule now that Jane was going away, she went into the cellar where she kept her weights and decided just to get a little workout in.

She picked up a pair of sixty pounders, the cool metal of the grip feeling good in her hands. With a little bit of effort she started to curl the weights up and down, her arms bulging against the resistance of the weights, each arm sporting a large vein. Her shoulders were big, her triceps meaty at the bottom of each curl, her biceps bunching up into large balls at the top of the curl. She didn't know much about weight training, just what she could find in magazines and limited to equipment she had, so curls were easy, and she just curled until she couldn't anymore. Her arms exhausted, she put the dumbbells on the ground and shook her arms out, feeling swollen after doing dozens of reps. She eyed the sixty-fives; she really should start cooking to stay on schedule, but maybe another set wouldn't hurt. She grabbed those and started her routine again, curling for a few minutes until she could barely lift her arms. Her arms felt so big, and she reached into her apron to grab her tape measure that she kept handy at all times these days, and clumsily measured her arm as she flexed it.

"Nineteen inches," she whispered. "That's another half inch. John will like it, I guess. It's too bad that no one else will ever see these."

Sighing again, she wiped her hands off and went upstairs to the kitchen to prepare for the rest of the day. Now, muscles aside, Peggy was objectively a bombshell, her naturally curly auburn hair spilling over her broader-than-normal shoulders, striking blue eyes, a coy smile, clear skin. She was as pretty as could be, which was her saving grace most of the time, if she was careful with how she dressed. It had taken her months to figure out what she could wear without breaking a seam or popping a button. At home she was free to be her true self and was glad no one was around.

She turned on the radio and put the volume all the way up and sang at the top of her lungs (off-key) to the songs at the top of the charts as she cooked her lunch and the evening's dinner. She danced and shook her hips, hopped up and down and generally had a good time for the next two hours. That was, until she had a bit of an accident. She was about to pull something out of the oven but had distracted herself with singing and inadvertently wrenched the whole handle off the over door, snapping the screws keeping it in place.

"Gosh darn," she growled. "Sometimes I wish I was normal, then we could do things like go to the beach or I wouldn't break things so often." She gripped the two ends of the metal handle and bent it easily, the aluminum stick unable to resist her strength. As she looked at the bent metal, though, she had a realization for the first time in her life.
"What if I just tell him what I want, and then tell him that he's going to do it?" she asked herself. She knew she couldn't bend real steel (she had tried), but that there was no way John could do this to the heavy aluminum. In fact, she mused, he had never demonstrated that he was stronger than her. If anything, he might even enjoy her going out of her way to prove her strength to him.

She went about her business for the rest of the afternoon before John came home and went through his routine, kicking off his shoes, hanging up his jacket and collapsing on the couch.

"Peggy, can you bring me a beer?"

She was already on her way, though, and instead of a bear she tossed the bent handle into his lap, surprising him and making him flinch.

"We need to fix the oven, I broke it today."

"It looks like you did more than that," he said, picking up the mangled metal and looking straight at her arms. "We'll get it fixed this weekend if we can stop by Sears."

"No, we will get it fixed this weekend, because we are going to Sears."

He looked a little annoyed by her tone. "Hey now, don't get all worked up. And where's my beer."

"It's in the fridgedaire, waiting for you do get it," she said sweetly, sitting next to him on the couch. She was still wearing her sleeveless top. "I've been doing a lot of thinking today," she said as she swung her heavy, muscled legs onto his lap. She really knew how to rile him up and could already feel his penis enlargening. Scooting a little closer she wrapped her bicep under his chin and flexed slightly. "I think we should go on vacation. Somewhere nice and public, with a beach. And mai tais!"

"Th-that certainly sounds like a good idea but I can't really get away from work right now," he stammered, reaching up to grab her arm.

"Nineteen inches says that you can get away from work," she whispered. "Nineteen inches says that you haven't taken time off from there in years and haven't taken me anywhere with you, and that you have plenty of time and money to take me somewhere for a week where I can enjoy the sun and be outside. In fact," she continued, "nineteen inches bets that you haven't taken me out because of nineteen inches." She flexed harder and trapped his head between her bicep and forearm.

"Nineteen...inches?" He had to wheeze it between gritted teeth, unable to move his jaw.

"Yes. All nineteen. And all nineteen and the rest of me really wants to get away." She let his head go and smiled at him. "I think some things are going to change around here, and that you'll like them. But don't worry," she said, pressing herself out of the couch and walking to the kitchen, "we can keep it inside the house, no one will know but us."

[fp909]

***just FYI, I'm writing this in parts as I feel like so this will be ongoing when I can get to it. I really like Peggy



Peggy stood with John on the tarmac, waiting to board their plane to the Bahamas, where they had eventually both "agreed" to go (rest assured, Peggy had heavily insisted on this destination). The airport workers were pushing the stairs up to the front door of the plane while another group drove carts of luggage to be loaded in the undercarriage. Despite the noise of a busy airport, it was a beautiful day out, and Peggy was enjoying every minute of it. Flying, she believed, as did many others, was an event to be dressed for, and the two of them were dressed for the occasion, John in a suit and tie plus a hat, while Peggy wore a sleeveless silk blouse tucked into a teal skirt, She clutched her handbag in front of her while she waited to board, and peered at their fellow travellers from behind winged sunglasses.

The McDonnell-Douglas DC-9  operated by TWA they were about to board wasn't a big plane, though Peggy hadn't been on many, and judging by the number of people milling about with them they flight would be full. Paul had insisted on an aisle seat to stretch his long legs, and she of course wanted to sit next to him which put her in the unenviable position of sitting between him and another person--she wondered who she would be forced to sit next to for the multi-hour flight.

Though she was happy to be out and about and without sleeves, no less, she was still a little self-conscious about how people were looking at her, specifically her exposed arms and the amount of cleavage she was showing, both muscle and breast. Fully aware of people's stares and intermittent whispers, she clutched her handbag even tighter, making her triceps bulge and exposing her prominent bicep vein. Still, she maintained a cool and relaxed face, like she didn't have a care in the world.

It had been a few weeks since her confrontation with John and things had changed for the better around the house. She found that placating his interests made him more available to do more things around the house and he was generally more attentive to her than he had been in the past. He definitely respected her strength more, especially after she had arranged some timely demonstrations at how strong she could be, even within the confines of their house.  So with a new wardrobe and renewed confidence they headed out on their vacation.

They boarded the plane in groups, which took a while--there were several families with toddlers that needed extra assistance getting up the stairs, and some elderly couples. When they finally got to their row, a tall, good looking man was already seated at the window, hat brim pulled slightly down over his eyes, apparently already asleep. She breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that she wouldn't have to deal with an annoying seatmate for the rest of the trip.
She was also grateful that he was rather thin, her broad back and shoulders filled the seat and brushed up slightly against both of the shoulders of the men on either side of her. Even with her hands in her lap her right triceps still made contact with her husband's left arm. As the flight attendants went over safety protocol in the aisle, she turned her head slightly to whisper to John.

"I'm really excited to fly again, honey, and go on a real getaway! Thanks for setting this trip up," she said,  warmly.

He whispered back, simultaneously trying to surreptitiously grope her arm--she didn't give in and refused to flex. "As if I had a choice! But I'm glad we can be somewhere exotic for once."

They both settled in and once the jitters from takeoff had subsided Peggy was finally able to relax a little. She picked a book from her bag to read and, not wanting to disturb either her neighbor or now-dozing husband, decided not to turn on the overhead lamp, instead holding the book up closer to her face to read the text. Doing so made her biceps bulge, her upper arms filling the space between her breasts and forearms. For her, it ended up being a comfortable position.

A stewardess came by shortly to pass out drinks. Peggy didn't notice, but the woman's eyes widened when she walked up to Peggy's row and spotted her hard to miss, nineteen-inch arms bunched up between two grown men.

"Excuse me, ma'am, would you like something to drink?" she asked politely, rummaging around for a cup and ice.

"Yes please, actually. Do you have Pepsi-Cola?"

"Is Coca-Coca fine?" She pulled out a can and offered it to her.

"That's perfect, thank you," Peggy replied, pulling down the tray in front of her and reaching out to grab the offered can and cup of ice, her triceps hanging heavily.

"If you don't mind my saying, miss," the woman whispered before moving on, "You have quite muscular arms, they seem to be much larger than your husband's."

She giggled softly. "They are, definitely. It helps to have a little muscle around the house, even when he is home!"

The stewardess grinned wildly before giving her the thumbs up and rolling her cart away. For the next half hour or so Peggy sipped at her cold soda and continued reading in peace. Eventually, though, the man to her left stirred and woke up. He nodded hello and tipped his already-tipped hat, but immediately pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and took a long drag on a new stick.

"Excuse me," Peggy said, turning slightly to look at him, "If it's all the same to you, could you wait until we land? I'm a little allergic to cigarette smoke."

He looked her dead in the eye before taking another puff. "Lady, no offense, but the cabin is filled with smoke, if you were really allergic you'd already be sick." He turned to look out the window.

"Well maybe I'd just prefer that you not smoke right next to me," she said sourly, and by way of suggestion crumpled her empty soda can in one hand.

"It's just aluminum, lady, anyone can do it, especially with fat arms like that," he sneered.

"My, you are rude," she said, and reached out faster than he could react to snatch his lighter out of his hand before pinching the steel container flat between her thumb and index finger of her left hand before flexing her menacing right bicep, her arms pumped from sitting in a perma curl with her book. Lighter fluid dripped off her hands before she tossed it in his lap, reached over to pluck his cigarette out of his mouth, and put it out on the ashtray in the armrest. He gulped visibly.

"Maybe you're right, I'll just wait until I get there instead," he said shakily before pulling his hat brim down and pretending to fall back asleep.

Peggy smiled to herself, pleased that she had resolved the situation. Her whole life dynamic had changed once she had made the decision to be more assertive and use her body to her advantage, instead of playing the good housewife. It had certainly won her some supporters around town, though most people frowned upon the fact that she wasn't exactly the feminine ideal of the times. The other homebodies around the neighborhood had practically blacklisted her after she had started mowing her own lawn i cut-off t-shirts that revealed her arms, and short shorts that revealed her thick, powerful legs that rippled and bulged with every step she took. She was even looking better, having shed some pounds of fat now that she didn't feel confined to the house, and more of her muscles were visible than ever, which John loved. At every opportunity he tried to touch a piece of her hard flesh, and frequently offered to cook or clean in exchange for...well, whatever he asked for. She didn't particularly care, and loved the attention. She had probably grown stronger and bigger because of it, though he did have a particular yearning for seeing her pump up her arms to new heights.

Not that she had ever needed help to carry her bundles to the car, but in the past she had been highly encouraged to ask for the help anyway to prevent her sleeves from busting through a shirt in public, as not to embarrass John--now she gleefully flaunted the fact that she could take the groceries to the car in one trip, or throw bags of mulch and soil over her shoulders without needing a pallet to wheel to her station wagon. She had actually been offered a warehouse position at a local Sears when their foreman had seen her carrying an entire Kenmore washer through the store, to check out, and to her car--she had politely declined at first because she had responsibilities at home still, but after he insisted and told her about the pay and flexible hours he would allow her she relaxed a bit and promised to think about it. She was still thinking about it when the plane landed a few hours later in the beautiful Bahamas.

She had never been anywhere so humid in her life, but the sun was shining and huge clouds floated through the sky as the disembarked from the plane. She slipped on her sunglasses as they waited for a bus to bring them to the sleepy-looking terminal. Already sweating, she was excited to get to their bungalow where she could put on some more comfortable clothes, maybe the two piece bathing suit she had purchased, and go to the beach to enjoy the weather. John was already distracted, this time with his new home-movie camera, pointing it at everything and anything as they drove through the palm tree-lined streets.

When they got to their bungalow they (Peggy) brought their luggage inside and turned on the fans and window air conditioning unit to cool down. Paul took off his jacket and tie and unbuttoned his shirt; Peggy basically tore off her blouse and jumped out of her skirt, standing at the foot of the bed in undergarments as she rooted through her suitcase for her new bikini, which she wasn't totally sure would fit her as she had secretly gone out to purchase it. Before he could see that she had it she had gone of to the restroom to put it on and closed the door, and while she dressed she sprung her trap on John.

"I've been thinking John, it would be nice if we could have a second source of income for the household to buy the little things, maybe it would help you relax at work if you knew you didn't have to work so many hours."

John lay on the bed, hands under his head staring at the ceiling. "You're not turning into one of those women that feels the need to go out and work, now are you? You have plenty of work to do at home!"

"Yes, honey, that's true," she said, her voice muffled behind the door. "But I was offered a very nice, easy job at Sears, and they'll pay me well and be very flexible with me."

"I don't know, it seems like an awful lot of trouble, why don't we talk about it when we get home."

She opened the bathroom door and stepped out. "How about we talk about it now?"

She had been right, the bikini didn't fit her. It was made for someone her height but much, much thinner and with different shapes. The aquamarine-colored top, basically a water-friendly bra, was pushed to the limits, her breasts nearly spilling out of the front, her lats spilling out the back, and her traps pushing against the straps. Her bottom, which was supposed to cover some of her midsection and most of her rear, was much more risque because of all the muscle she carried. Her lifestyle change over the last couple months had paid off, and her muscles stood out under her sweat-slicked flesh, rippling with every move. She brought both arms up and flex, nearly ripping herself out of the top, her nineteen-inch plus arms soaring high on her relatively short arm structure.

John gulped and shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Maybe we could talk about it now."

"That's what I thought," she said as she went to the foot of the bed, bending over to grip the frame and started to curl it up and down while he lay on it. "I think you'll like the job too. It's a warehouse job, they want me to lift heavy things....all....day," she said quietly as she stared into his eyes and continued pumping, her arms ballooning with every curl, her legs bent at the knees causing her quads and calves to bulge ominously as they appeared at the bottom of every curl.

"Just imagine how pumped up I could be when I get home in the evenings," she continued, "and you could touch me all you wanted while I made dinner after." His eyes rolled up into his head.

"And maybe if you're lucky I'll bring home some extra appliances to use my strength on," she said, biting her lip sensually and curling the bed even higher, squeezing everything she could out of it as a huge vein appeared on each arm. John spasmed on the bed, hands over his crotch, in throes of pleasure just from imagining what might happen if he complied with her "request".

He breathed heavily as he lay there, alternately looking at her and the ceiling. "Maybe it might be a good idea after all."

"Good," she said, dropping the bed to the ground and pulling out a tape measure from her bag, quickly wrapping her upper arm and flexing it.

"Twenty-one inches with a pump, now," she said with a wink, tossing the tape on his chest and grabbing a towel before heading out to the beach.

[fp909]

Things are starting heat up...quickly...for Jane in this next part! As always, if you're interested in my writing please consider signing up for my Patreon! You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login

--------------

Jane sauntered out to the beachfront—there weren't many sunbathers at the moment and she had her pick of the litter of dozens of beach chairs with paired umbrellas. Straightening the large floppy had on her head and donning her sunglasses, she picked one out before sitting down and taking some time to apply some sunscreen, at least to the parts of her body that she could reach: her face and anything in the front of her body.

While she was working a towel boy rolled up and, in broken English, offered her a towel and a menu with drinks. She stopped him before he walked away.

"Excuse me, but I seem to be having some difficulty," she said with a coy grin. "Could you help me put on some more sunscreen?"

He cocked his head, his comprehension having missed a third of the words. Noticing his slight confusion she held up her suncreen and pointed at her expansive back. Her muscles rippled with her gesture and the boy gulped audibly, but nodded, understanding.

"Thank you," she said sweetly as she lay on her stomach on the chair, undoing the clasp of her bikini top so that he could apply everywhere evenly (and to avoid any unsightly tan lines!). She could tell from his touch that he was both nervous and having to work hard to massage the oil into her dense musculature, and she took some pleasure in shifting her shoulders and back a little to make it a little harder on him. To his credit, he did a thorough job, making sure to get her back and glutes, the backs of her legs, even around her lats. When he was finished he capped the bottle and stood there awkwardly.

"Thank you so much. Oh gosh," she realized, "I left my purse in my room, I can't tip. Maybe you can return to my room later tonight and I will give you a tip?" She had to turn her head and torso significantly to see him from her prone position.

He screwed up his face from concentration. Sighing, she picked up her room key from the ground and showed him the number. "You, come here, five'o'clock tonight, understand? For tip!"

He nodded and smiled. His eyes roamed over her body, clearly appreciating what he saw, and saw an opening to test the waters—a way both to save a little cash and to also test out her newfound confidence. Looking around and seeing that they were the only too on the beach, she slowly rolled over onto her back, exposing her enormous breasts and cobblestone abs, stretching her arms overhead and looking at him straight in the eyes. His widened, and his pants tented almost instantly, and he blushed beneath his dark skin and covered up his crotch and muttered, "five o clock" before scurrying away. She laughed and lay there for a little while, appreciating this newfound freedom in her skin. Thinking about it, there might not be anyone on the island that might tell her to cover up at all that would legitimately challenge her.

Basking in the sun, she enjoyed the warmth of the rays and the soft sounds of waves rolling up onto the beach. It was so refreshing, having grown up in a land-locked state and only having been to the beach once previously. She did have experience with the sun, though, and while she lay there she thought back to all of the summer harvests she had done with her father for many years. She was an only child, and after discovering that his wife was unable to have any more children after her, had tasked Jane with becoming his right-hand girl from the age of four. She helped with all that she could as soon as she could handle it, physically.

Ironically, this is what had started her growth, the constant manual labor and farm-fed diet contributing to growth early on. Like the children who frequented the schoolhouse she did, she was physically fit at an early age but had shown signs as early as six that she was progressing far more rapidly than any of her classmates (though there weren't many, only a dozen or so in the cramped room that shared multiple grades).

With a smile she thought back on all the extraordinary things she had done that no one would believe. There was the time that their donkey had fallen ill in the middle of plowing field, and she had unhooked the plow from its yoke and had finished the remainder of the acre herself. She had been six at the time, and no more than three and a half feet tall, but she pulled the plow all the same, and then dragged both the donkey and the plow back to their property. She had bulging muscles even back then, disproportionately large for her small body and a challenge to clothe.

Years later, in her teens she was much larger. Having topped out at just over five feet, she wasn't tall like her father, but she was bigger than anyone she knew by a long shot. Had she measured her arms back then, she would have found that her sixteen inch arms were as big, if not bigger, than the bodybuilders of the era. Had she seen the photographs that Edison was taking of male and female athletes all the way in New Jersey, she would have been the superior of all of them. She had also blossomed into womanhood, and her breasts were quite large. She had also grown quite fond of wearing as little clothing as possible—it was a solitary life they led, and almost no one saw them in the fields laboring, not with miles between workers. She had taken to wearing only coveralls, the straps barely containing her massive chest, but her shoulders and arms were allowed to bulge free of confinement.

That year automobiles were becoming more prevalent as people started to move farther west, and she had happened upon one that was broken down on the side of a dirt road, a family of four out for a Sunday jaunt having driven over a sharp rock and blown a tire. As she approached them from the field, she saw them trying, unsuccessfully, to prop up to change a wheel. Seeing their plight she offered to help, unceremoniously pushing them aside and grabbing the chassis. She lifted the end of the car easily, her biceps bulging with the effort—after a brief period of shock they were able to gather their wits and change the tire. They offered her a little money as thanks, which she tried to refuse—the rather forward and brusque teenaged son grabbed the wad of cash that his father had tried to offer and plunged it into the cleavage exposed by her coveralls. She blushed; no one had ever done that before and the way that he looked at her body made her feel wanted, but the feeling was fleeting as they drove off into the summer heat.

She had certainly made a lot of noise after she had gotten married, the city folk obviously not used to someone of her stature, and her constant growth making her an object of attention when they went out, which is why John had eventually persuaded her to stay at home constantly. Things would be different now, though, and she was taking full agency of her extreme strength.

Before she knew it, she had dozed off in the sunlight. Passed out for a couple of hours, she was only awakened when someone grabbed her shoulder and shook her awake.

"Miss..miss! You're red as a lobster!"

Her eyes fluttered open and a handsome young man in a hotel uniform, clearly American, looked her in the eyes while fumbling with a towel in one hand and shading his eyes from her bare breasts with the other. After covering her up he repositioned the umbrella over her. The shade was welcome. His eyes were just like her husbands, and the towel boy's—wide and roving. He clearly couldn't help himself.

"I just applied sunscreen! I must have been asleep for a while. Thank you for waking me," she yawned and stretched, naturally this time, and her towel slipped off to the side. The boy stared.

She covered up again and smiled at him.

"Tell me your name." It was a command, not a request.

"Robert, miss."

"Hello, Robert. I'm Jane." She sat up straight, her mountainous shoulders and triceps bulging as she moved. "I can tell that you like what you see, it's quite obvious. And don't worry about it," she waved her hand as he started to stammer, "I get that same response from a lot of people."

She looked him up and down, and saw that he was in very good shape indeed, and handsome. John had never looked this good, she thought to herself. She had fallen for him for other reasons than his body but damn wouldn't it be nice to appreciate someone more like herself.

"Tell me, Robert," she said as she brought her arm parallel to her body, "Have you ever seen a woman with a body like mine before?" She flexed slowly and her bicep grew, and grew, and grew.

"No, ma'am."

"Not even on this amazing vacation island?"

"No, ma'am." He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"How old are you Bobby. Can I call you that? Bobby?"

"Yes, ma'am. Eighteen just this past month."

"I see. Well, Bobby, I'm going to be here on the island for a little while, and to be honest, my husband will not be able to keep up with me. I might need a little extra excitement, if you know what I mean." Her voice cracked—she was going off the cuff, this was very unusual to even suggest, but her husband was on the island with her! She was very nervous about sharing her sexuality with someone else and also with using her body to try and seduce a young man, but he was just so appealing.

He looked at her blankly, and stammered again. He didn't seem to be very confident, though it could just be her presence. Sighing, she grabbed the towel and flung it around his back, pulling him in and burying his face in her breasts.

"This could be yours for two weeks, if you like. Or I could go ask someone else. It's up to you," she breathed. He tried to pull away but it seemed that despite his muscular body he was no match for her strength, and she loved it. She grinned as he struggled against a fraction of her strength before releasing him, grabbing his crotch as he pulled away.

"Help me with my top, Bobby." He did as asked and reapplied her bikini top. "I'll worry about my back tan later. Thank you for your help—I expect that you have a room to stay in?"

"Yes, I bunk in 229A," he said sheepishly.

"Good, I will stop by when I'm ready." She thought to herself and tapped her finger on her chin. "And when you're in my presence, I think you should address me as goddess. That seems very fitting for someone of my stature. What do you think?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes....?" She trailed off.

"Yes goddess!" He almost shouted.

"Good. Don't worry, when others are around you can address me normally. But I want you to know that I'm in complete control when we are alone." He nodded and withdrew.

She was shaking with excitement now, These words and ideas had just sprung to mind, she had no idea where they had come from! She wasn't much of a reader, and she had never ever thought of anything like this before, but it just seemed right. She knew a little bit about mythology, the Amazons and Greco-Roman deities, women who could stop a man dead with her beauty. She also had considered them quite strong, especially Athena or the Amazons, warrior women that could hold their own with any man. Was she not, by that definition, a goddess? Superior to everyone around her?

She felt her bikini bottom growing damp as the thought of having complete control over a young man in the prime of his life aroused her. Perhaps she would learn some valuable lessons that she could bring home with her and show off to John.  It seemed that years of repression had caused her sexuality to reach a boiling point the top was starting to bubble over.

John still hadn't joined her, and she assumed he was still passed out on the bed, or perhaps still thinking of her magnificent body. The sun had gone past its midway point and was starting to descend to the horizon, but there was plenty of light still. She looked around her as beach goers settled in, though some had been there for a while. The ones with the disgusted looks, she could tell, had been around while she was still naked on the chair, while newcomers had witnessed her display with Bobby and her muscular physique enough to cause tittering and gossip.

She wasn't worried about it though—she liked that people were talking about her, and wondered how many encounters she might have while she was there. Not that she wanted more exposure, on the contrary. She was rather terrified that she was now to repay both the towel boy and keep a paramour on the side for two weeks, without John knowing. She supposed that if something happened, it happened, but she vowed then to keep a tight lid on the situation.`

[fp909]

Next part! Find me on deviant and also on Patreon! You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login


That evening Peggy and John went to the resort's welcome barbecue and mingled with the other guests a little. Everyone wore comfortable evening wear, most of it beach themed. Peggy, now growing accustomed to her confidence in her body had decided to wear a bikini and wrapped herself in a beautiful, patterned sash that covered up more of her body, though she still left her massive arms exposed. Despite the fact that John never wanted to leave her side (for obvious reasons) they had a great time, met more of the guests (who were curious about her body for the most part) and ate great food. She even ran into her new favorite staff member Robert, who she slyly winked at after he spotted her and made a beeline toward her with a plate of food, ignoring a dozen other guests along the way to get to her.


"You don't have to act that way right now, Robert," she said under her breath as she picked some appetizers off of the platter, "but I do appreciate the gesture. Remember what I said about tonight."


"Yes, goddess," he mumbled, only audible by Peggy. John, who had managed to be away from her arms for more than a minute, returned with drink for them.


"He seemed awfully eager," John mentioned, handing her a cup of punch.


She swirled the drink in her cup and nodded thoughtfully. She didn't want him to suspect anything.


Later in the barbecue there was entertainment, group dancing and songs. They had fire dancers and a limbo contest (Peggy tried but her breasts were just too big and perky, and kept knocking over the stick), and had a troupe of natives performing dances and skits. One skit in particular involved a big, strong man saving a woman from certain death at the hands of sea monster, and Peggy was a very willing participant, waving her hand in the air vigorously to get selected. When she went up on the small stage she was of course shorter than the towering man with the barrel chest, but after she dramatically tossed aside her body scarf, clad in her aqua bikini, it was clear which of the two was actually probably going to do the saving, especially after she scooped him up in the crook of one arm and flexed a bicep bigger than his head as she paraded around the stage. The audience cheered loudly and even the actor was laughing good-heartedly as she put him down and they flexed together, another staff member taking a polaroid of the duo.


It was clear that the party would last until the wee hours of the morning, but Peggy had an appointment to keep. She had to ditch her husband but that wouldn't be too difficult. He had warmed to some of the other guests and it wouldn't be too hard to leave, but to be sure she pulled him aside into a side room, plucked him off the floor with one hand, and placed him on her opposite bicep, giving him his favorite (but rarely offered) treat: a bicep ride. His body rose up and down by a foot with every flex of her bicep, his hardening penis pressing against her rock hard arm. When he was ready she flexed hard, hard enough to bump him airborne where she caught him with the same hand of the arm he was just riding, and tore his pants off with her other hand. His cock stood out, engorged with blood, and now she was able to flex her other arm, her bicep hardening and peaking, but this time with his penis in the crook of her bicep and forearm. He shuddered in her palm and it only took moments before he orgasmed, shooting cum against the wall behind them and nearly fainting from pleasure.


She smiled, put him down and patted his cheek, as he grabbed a nearby towel and put it around his waist. "I'm feeling pretty tired honey, why don't you stay here and enjoy the party, I'm going to go for a walk before bed."


"Do you want some company?" He started to follow her out, but she stopped him.


"No, that's alright, I'll be fine, just need to quiet is all. I'll see you later," she said, and pecked him on the cheek.


As she walked through the party she noticed Robert was already gone. She smiled and walked through the resort to the staff quarters, quietly walking the halls until she reached Robert's room. She wanted to make a big entrance, but she also wanted to make a big impression, so instead of forcing the door open she politely knocked. Not a few seconds later the door was opening and Robert stood there in khaki pants and a pressed white polo, freshly changed after the party. It seemed he had showered as well, as his hair was damp. Peggy was only clad in her bikini.


She walked in and closed the door behind her, making sure he had a good look as she crushed the door knob and locking mechanism in her feminine hand. "So we won't be interrupted," she said sweetly as she breezed past him and sat on the edge of his bed.


"Be a dear, these bikini straps are becoming uncomfortable, would you undo them for me? I have trouble reaching anyway," she said, drawing him forward with the motion of a crooked finger. He gulped and walked to the bed, crawled on it, and after fumbling a bit with his fingers undid the knot of her bikini top, which she pulled away and tossed aside. He noticed that the light top really served no purpose other than to cover up; her breasts didn't move an iota as the top came off. She stood up and stretched her arms overhead, her muscle-clad yet somehow lithe body extending. Robert's eyes widened--her flawless skin rippled with pounds of muscle beneath it, her pecs almost as thick as her breasts, even her armpits stuffed with muscle. She twirled around, showing off her muscle-stuffed bubble butt and calves the size of cantaloupes.


"I can see that you like what you see," she said, clasping her hands in front of her chest (which made her arms and chest and shoulders bulge obscenely) and smiling. "There's certainly a lot of me to explore and since I wear the pants in my household we have as long as I want to play. How does that sound?"


"That sounds amazing, g-g-goddess," he said, still kneeling on the bed. 


"Oh honey! There's no need to be nervous, you're shaking!"


"No ma'am," he sighed. "I'm not nervous, just excited. If I can be honest, you are the woman of my dreams." He turned beet red. "The reason my parents sent me here to work was for rehabilitation. I love strong women bulging with muscle, and my social studies teacher..."


"--was a strong woman bulging with muscle?" He nodded as she interrupted and finished his statement. "I can see how that might seem. It must have gone on for a while, am I correct?" He nodded a second time, hands resting on his lap. "Well," she pouted, "was she bigger than me?" Taking a deep breath she expanded her chest and folded her arms up and behind her head, flaring her lats and flexing her biceps. She planted her heels together and stood on her tiptoes, tensing her massive thighs and calves, her whole body exploding outward impossibly.


"Oh my," Robert whispered, covering his mouth with one hand. She giggled and shifted her arms into a double bicep pose, still on tiptoe. Her biceps, well over twenty inches with all the flexing she had already done this vacation, towered over her shoulders. She only stood five feet, four inches but to Robert she seemed like a giant at the moment. Relaxing, she sat next to him on the bed and flexed a humongous bicep right in his face, the peaked mount of muscle covered in smooth, creamy skin growing literally right before his eyes, obstructing his view of the floor, then the doorway, until it was the only thing he could see. Tentatively he reached up and encircled her massive muscle with his hands, trying to squeeze it in his grip but finding it was like holding a warm, vein-covered bowling ball.


"Wouldn't you like to know how strong i am?"


Looking her in the eyes, but not taking his hands from her still-flexed arm, he nodded.


"Would you like me to tell you or show you?"


"Both, please?"


"Hm, 'Both please' who?"


"Both, please, goddess."


"Alright then, you'll get both." Nonchalantly, while he was still holding onto her arm, she stood up and walked easily around the room, flexing and pumping her arm while he rode along, seeming like his weight was inconsequential. Looking around the room, she didn't see anything that she could bend or break to show him some more of what she could do. Thoughtfully she looked at his bed.


"Will you have to pay for anything if I break it?"


"Yes, goddess. It comes out of my pay at the end of the week."


"Hm, well maybe I'll have to talk with someone if I can't set things right on my own. Down you go." She lowered her arm and he dropped to the floor, but still clung to her now-pumped bicep in a way not-unlike her husband, his arms encircled around her upper arm.


"Do you think I can lift this bed, Robert?"


"Yes goddess, but it's bolted to the floor. Because of the storms," he said as she looked at him quizzically.


She bent over and squatted at the knees, grabbing the bed frame with one hand, since he was still fondling her other arm, and pulled. There was the scream of steel tearing from stone as she wrenched the bed frame from its moorings as she easily stood up straight and continued to pull at the bed without much effort, it seemed. Still, she wasn't strong enough to overcome levers, and was unable to pull the bed straight off the ground, and started to unintentionally fold back the bed frame as she lifted higher--now it resembled a sloping hill. Her handprint was pressed into the metal where she had grabbed it.


"Oh my," Robert said, looking at the bed, then back to her. "Was that easy for you?"


"As a matter of fact, it was! And I can fix it for you if you want." He nodded, so she shook him free for the moment and went to each side of the bed, bending the frame straight again on both sides before using her bare hands to hammer the screws back into the concrete floor. She had a slight sheen of sweat but didn't seem to be exerting herself much.


Peggy recognized that Robert was like a kid in a candy store at this point. "Robert, do you like dancing?"


"No goddess, I mean I'm not a very good dancer, but I like to do it sometimes."


"Well do you think this is a good dance?" Using her practiced muscle control she bobbed her firm breasts up and down, her pecs rippling with each flex. They popped up and down dramatically, and it was evident that she practiced this quite often. He blushed again, but reached out and placed his hands on her popping chest, his hands jumping up and down, trying to knead into her firm breasts. "My chest is very strong too, Robert. Why don't you see if you can keep my breasts pressed together. Don't worry, you can use your full strength, you can't hurt me!"


He did as he was told and pressed on the outside of her breasts, pushing them inward. Slyly, slowly, she flexed her chest, her breasts starting their inexorable march to the outside of her ribcage. She could tell that Robert was really trying, the muscles in his forearms twitching as he tried to push her mammaries back to their starting position, but couldn't. She relaxed and his pressure slammed her breasts back together. She playfully bounced them, his strength having no effect on the speed or power of her bounces. He was standing right in front of her and while she teased him she felt his pants starting to rub against her bubbly abs. She flexed hard, spreading her breasts and his hands and peered down between the cleavage at his growing hard on.


She grabbed his hands and put them at his side, then grabbed his shirt at the collar and tore it in half, throwing the halves to the floor. She licked her lips and stripped off his belt and tore his khakis in half as well, like tissue paper, and balled them up, tossing them on the bed. She stalked towards him, backing him down on the bed and leaning over him.


"I'm a married woman, Robert," she breathed, "but gosh darn it I'm having fun and I think I want a taste of a different man tonight." While she whispered, she closed her eyes and rubbed her bikini-clad pussy along the length of his hard on, teasing her lips with its tip before breathing in sharply and opening her eyes, her look ravenous. Robert looked a mixture frightened and aroused, but it didn't matter to her, because she knew he would love every minute of it.

[Jeremy Lightning]

It seems to me that most of the people who had seen Peggy up close have fallen in love with her muscle and strength, I mean no one seems to be that upset with it, though her husband seemed to be wary of it at the beginning, but I would just love this to be somewhat of a World changing type story, imagine if Peggy got on TV in the 60's and she became somewhat of a model for women and girls all around the World, and her body type, her muscles, her strength became the in thing for women to try to be like. And now 50 years later, the average woman would be insanely muscular and super strong. That would be incredible! But overall, I really enjoyed this chapter, Peggy showed off very nicely from beginning to end and like I said, everyone seemed to be loving every second of it, John loved it as she gave him an orgasm inducing bicep ride/fuck, and Robert obviously enjoyed what she was doing with him. I, for one, envy him. k+!

[fp909]

Reserved for Mod use

[fp909]

A little shorter than my other parts but wanted to write something before the end of the year. Enjoy!


---


Peggy loomed large in Robert's field of vision as she kneeled over him on the bed, and she pressed him down further into the mattress with a single finger, her hair falling in tresses over her bulging traps. With her other hand she reached down and tried to undo his belt, fumbling over the latch, and eventually giving up and snapping it, and his pant waist, in half, tearing them off of his body. Lost in the heat of the moment, she hadn't felt this alive in quite some time, though she had certainly enjoyed her husband's increasingly enthusiastic attitude toward her since she had decided to take over. This was different, though, and her body was abuzz with energy. Maybe it was from the risk she was taking--it didn't matter whether or not she was the boss, it was still a taboo to commit adultery, or that's how she had been taught. For once, though, it was gratifying, satisfying to control the situation with someone new and unknown who would be discovering her body for the first time.

She almost didn't have to do any work as she lightly drew her finger up the underside of his organ and it was immediately erect. She bit her lip in anticipation but knew that he was probably as liable to finish early as her husband was, and that certainly wouldn't do. Aroused as he was, she couldn't have their encounter finishing before she was ready to finish.

So, instead, she became a massive tease and let it alone, instead rolling to the side and onto her back. She took up most of the bed this way, and one of her shoulders still hung off the end of the large mattress. With a little difficulty she was able to snake her arm under Robert's body and easily lift him into the air, pressing him up and down with one arm as she slipped two fingers under her bikini bottom with her opposite hand and pushed them into her sopping wet snatch. It seemed that the more she used and abused her strength the more it grew her libido and confidence, and she didn't want it to stop.

She pressed him up and down, up and down until an enormous orgasm raced through her body, sending it into uncontrollable spasms that knocked Robert off of her hand, and he crashed down onto her body (with little effect on her) and she wrapped her ballooning arms around his body as she climaxed, squeezing him beyond his breaking point and choking all the air out of him. Passed out, his body went limp, but she didn't notice right away and writhed in pleasure on the bed, still holding him in her arms.

"Mmmm gosh that felt so good," she hummed, stretching out her limbs. Robert rolled off her body and hit the floor with a thud. "Robert? Robert?" She rolled to her side and saw his limp body on the floor. He was breathing, but unconscious. "Oh my gosh, Robert!" She hopped off the end of the bed and lifted his limp body onto the bed. She patted his face a few times, but there wasn't any response. Looking around, she saw there were some glasses on the bathroom counter. She scooted over and filled it with water, and returned to him only to throw it in his face. The cold water made him wince, and he coughed; his eyes fluttered open and darted around, and took a big gasp of air.

"Oh goodness, you're ok, that's good." She was still mostly naked, and there was a brief period that he forgot where he was, but seeing her hulking body cleared his amnesia and the color drained from his face.

"You could have killed me!" He pushed himself backwards to the wall trying to get away from her, and then in the light she noticed light bruises on his torso where she had squeezed him.

"Oh gosh, Robert, i am so sorry, I didn't mean to do that, sometimes I forget my own strength." She pleaded with her eyes and backed down from the dominant position she was in to kneel on her knees, and placed her hands on her lap. "Please believe me, I didn't mean to hurt you."

He was on the brink of hyperventilating, but slowly his breathing calmed. "Don't be scared, please." She reached forward and rubbed his thigh. "I just wanted to have some fun. Weren't we having fun?" She turned up the charm, and moved her hand a little higher, grasping his flaccid penis lightly and stroking it gently with her fingertips. He face still looked scared, but his carnal instincts betrayed his feelings, and his penus rose and hardened quickly.

"There, that's alright now, isn't it?" She continued fingering his cock, but her free arm rose up and she grasped the back of her head and flexed her bicep, the mound of muscle growing to fill any open space between her head and arm; she turned her head to kiss it sensually. Robert's view showed him a muscle that was even bigger than her head, the side by side comparison almost too much to believe. Her other arm was still occupied with him, and he got goosebumps as she fingered his tip, but he could only focus on the giant vein running from her thumb to her shoulder, and the way that it split in two right on top of her bicep, one travelling up to her shoulder, the other wrapping under her arm and magically reappearing in her armpit, His eyes roamed more and found a new tributary of veins, starting at her neck and webbing out to each pectoral, continuing into her breasts--god, even her breasts were vascular--with veins traveling to and around her thick nipples.

Those thick nipples. Perfectly shaped, like eraser stubs but twice as long. She knew that they drove her husband wild and often teased him with them, and wondered if Robert wouldn't calm down with the same attention, and she slowly started to lean forward, as not to startle him, and hung her breasts over his face, where her nipples dangle right over his lips. She moved just enough for them to brush against his face, and it didn't take him long to open his mouth and crane his head forward so that he could suck on them.

While he was distracted by this new development she stopped working on keeping his cock fluffed, and reached to her waist to undo her bikini bottom, and dropped it off the bed. While he suckled on her teat she slowly lowered herself down onto his waiting cock--it slipped easily inside and she hummed with pleasure, happy that she was able to diffuse a potentially bad situation and return her control. His cock felt different inside of her than her husbands. Maybe even bigger, and it hit spots she didn't even know she had, and she cooed any time they were touched.

"And to think," she whispered as she thrust slowly against him, savoring every moment, "that I was once just a simple farm girl with muscles. I never thought I could become someone like this," she said, "behave like this," she continued, thrusting a little harder and feeling him start to twitch beneath her body. He wrapped his arms around her muscle-hardened waist and pulled himself closer, her corrugated (but covered in skin-soft) abdominals rubbing against his youthfully taut but normal stomach. The feeling of his skin against her body was just enough to get him to his breaking point, and he bucked his hip one final time into hers, and she grasped his ass and held him there as he pumped his exploding cum into her vagina, his virile youth feeling different from her husband's weaker orgasms. Maybe the difference was that her husband got to have sex all the time, and that Robert didn't have much to do on this lonely island, or maybe it was an age thing, but it felt so good to feel filled up.

She flipped their position and sunk her back into the mattress and pulled him deeper into her, trying to get every drop of semen into her body. She wasn't nearly ready to orgasm again but was happy to take care of that on her own, afterwards. Her eyes were closed, but opened them when she felt Robert go limp for a second time, but this time with a smile on his face as he released her nipple from its prison and nestled his head in her cleavage happily. She ran her hand through his hair fondly, glad that she could provide him with such a memorable experience and allowed herself a moment to relax, her nerves worked up in her sexual fervor.

The clock on the nightstand clicked, the card clipping to the next minute. It was after midnight now, late, and she realized that she should probably head back to her room or else face an overly suspicious husband. Not that a flex wouldn't make him melt, but it was almost too much hassle to start a serious discussion on vacation. She took a few more minutes to relax before nudging the happily resting teenager before rolling him over onto the mattress so that she could leave. He moaned softly but didn't fighter her otherwise, instead just watching her as she moved about collecting her destroyed clothing. She considered putting her bikini bottom back on, but decided it was more trouble than it was worth, instead grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her waist as best she could. Her top was destroyed, but she had no problem walking back to her room in the warm night without it.

She made a move toward the door but Robert jumped out of bed and intercepted her.

"Will you be back again, goddess," he asked, his eyes hopeful as he entwined both of his arms around her giant right arm, squeezed and rubbing it with his hands.

She thought about it. "Perhaps, Robert. But best not to make a spectacle out of it, understand? Tomorrow we both must act like tonight ever happened, for the sake of my marriage and your job."

He nodded, thinking. "Can we arrange another time to meet? If that's ok with you?"

"Why don't we just get through tomorrow and we'll see from there," she said with a smile and pinched his cheek. She left him there while he attempted to grovel for more with her, and strolled down the walkway in the warm evening night, happy to take her time. Everyone was mostly asleep--she encountered a couple of staff along the way who gawked at her as she passed; she simply ignored them and moved on to her room. The door was unlocked, so she walked in, finding her husband lounging on the bed and flipping through a magazine. He looked up and smiled--she could could tell from his glassy eyes and rosy cheeks that he was a little tipsy still but mostly sober, and she dropped her clothes and towel and joined him on the bed, and snuggled into his shoulder a little bit.

"Where did you disappear to?" He looked at her sideways but still flipped through the magazine.

"Oh, just for a walk around, you know."

He sat up a little and looked at her pile of clothing. "Must've been one heck of a walk," he said, chuckling. "Did you have a good walk at least? It's such a nice resort."

"Oh yes, it was nice to roam free for a little while, let everything hang out. It is very pretty here though, especially at night. There's a lot of things to look at. And yes, I was careful to watch out for any wildlife."

He chuckled again and tossed the magazine aside, rolling over to face her. "Still have enough energy to deal with this wild animal?"

She faked a yawn and batted her eyes. "Maybe a little energy. That walk did get me a little worked up. It's certainly very...primal out there."

[nickolai]

Shorter but we will take it.  Happy holidays!

[fp909]

Hey everyone--

Just wanted to update everyone on the state of affairs here:

1) Saradas stories: I'm going to continue to keep writing my stuff for Saradas/DA. Please let me know if you have an specific requests regarding those stories!

2) Commissions: Open for March! My rates are affordable so if you're interested in a custom story shoot me a private message or an email at You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login

3) Patreon: A lot of former commissioners have switched to this option, where I write freely, 3-4 times monthly. $4 gets you my base story level, and $6 gets you an extended version of said story. Of course you can sign up for as many as you want (one or 2, or a whoe month's worth of stuff) but I tend to write more risque there and take requests for sure. Soon I will start to offer another level for those who are interested in art, but I'm not quite there yet, but something to think about.

If you have any questions let me know below! Or message me!

[fp909]

I wrote this a while back as a Patreon commission (Patreon.com/fp909) but it's been a long time so I'm clear to post it here if you're interested in stuff like this for cheap check out my Patreon!

Weight Lost
by fighterpilot909

---------

After years of people telling you that "it's what's inside that matters" and that beauty "isn't truly skin deep", you almost start believing it. Of course, after many long years of people telling you that you're an ugly land-whale, you start believing some of those things too. Especially if clothes stop fitting they way they should, you have more exes on your clothes tags than you have in your romantic life, and going up a flight of stairs makes you red in the face.
This was how Carol had gone through most of her life. Heavy, out of shape, rolls of fat everywhere. It didn't help that she was an even six feet tall so her fatness was worse, since it had to be spread up and down her small frame rather than a skeleton six or seven inches shorter. To be fair, it was true that she had a few things going for her—she was very bright, a top student in high school and university, a doctor of chemical engineering and employed at a top firm that gave her great leeway to explore her own ideas and projects. But that's where her motivation lay—it never truly leaked beyond her studies.
Of course, she hadn't started overweight, no one does. It had happened somewhere at the end of middle school when she started to get aspirations at a career. Less time outside doing kid things, more time inside reading texts and watching demo videos as she went through high school. She became pale, neglected her hygiene, blew up to over 250 pounds of blubber. So, of course, in the competitive social environment was subject to all kinds of name calling and physical pranks, led mostly by her self- proclaimed nemesis Dana, head cheerleader, gorgeous, former elementary school friend, also not the sharpest crayon in the box. Maybe she was jealous of Carol's intelligence, the only thing that she, herself struggled with, maybe not. But Dana made her high school life hell.
The brunette bombshell had it all, beauty, perfect skin and hair, long muscular legs, a chiseled six pack, toned arms that balled up into muscles the size of baseballs when she flexed. She was the total package, and Carol both loved and hated her for it. She was everything that Carol could never be, or so she thought. Carol loved—no, worshipped—muscular women, secretly keeping stacks of muscular magazines in her room, an external hard drive full of the biggest, most muscular women on the internet and frequently fantasized about what life might be like if she was in that kind of shape.
Now twenty-seven years old, all she had was her career. No husband, no boyfriend, no kids. Her parents loved her but that was a given. Her friends were few and far between. And her ten-year high school reunion was just nine months away, the
invitation stuck to her fridge with a magnet. She desperately wanted to go but also couldn't possibly show her pimpled face in that environment.
This particular afternoon she made her weekly trek to the supermarket for her groceries, wheeling the cart aimlessly between aisles as she pulled things off the shelf that looked good. With her salary she wasn't really worried about cost, just feeding herself.
But as a chemical engineer you'd think I would care more about what goes into my body, she thought to herself.
She made it to the produce section, picking up various fruits before setting them down, going through a years-long routine before something—someone—caught her eye. A medium-sized brunette with killer legs, and that wasn't all. A muscular set of arms, a wide back, a but that looked like you could bounce quarters on it. Of course, she could see all of this because all the woman wore was a bright pink set of spandex shorts and a matching sports bra, a light sheen of sweat on her body like she had just come in from a workout.
She shook her head and passed by, walking around the same fruit stand the woman was at. She was about to move on when the woman called out to her in a familiar voice.
"Carol? Carol Danforth, is that you?"
Oh god, she thought to herself, it can't be.
"Oh my god, it's been so long! God has it been almost ten years?"
Yeah, ten years of bliss without you in my life. It seemed impossible, but she looked just as young and even more beautiful than she did all those years ago in high school and obviously her body was outrageous.
"I'm doing alright, yeah it's definitely been a long time. How have you been?" She wanted to get through this as quickly as possible.
"Oh pretty great, you know, just trying to stay in shape, stay ahead of life, you know. What are you up to?"
"Oh, I've just been working at Chem-X the last few years."
"Typical Carol, always brainy. Say, you going to the reunion?"
"Nah, I hadn't really planned on it."
"Awww, that's too bad, I'm sure everyone would love to see you."
Maybe she remembers high school differently than I did, Carol said to herself bitterly.
"And listen, about all those things I used to say in high school I just wanted to apologize," she said, a sincere look on her face. "And I want to make it up to you. Listen, I know it's been tough for you with all the weight issues, and you probably don't know what it is, but I'm a figure competitor and a personal trainer."
Carol caught the slight against her, but felt her heart beating faster. Dana had turned
into a real life figure competitor, the kind of woman she had idolized as a girl, and was offering to get her in shape! Her mind was spinning at the idea of getting professional help.
"Are you serious?"
"Definitely! And don't worry about paying me too, this will be my treat, we could start right now," she exclaimed as her eyes roamed over the contents of Carol's cart, and wrinkled her nose. "First we have to clean up that diet of yours, you'd be amazed what just a simple change in diet could do."
Of course, Carol knew that, it was part of her knowledge base as a chemical engineer and she almost started to say something, but thought better of it. She blushed and nodded in agreement. "I've been meaning to change that but really haven't had the motivation."
"Well here's your goal—get into that dress you want to wear for the reunion, you know the one that every woman dreams of wearing."
Carol grinned. "Ok, deal!"
So that quickly, a decade long hatred dissipated as Carol and Dana started to talk or text daily about training Carol to drop all the weight. The day after the supermarket meeting Dana went to Carol's apartment and helped her clear out all of the unhealthy food that may tempt her, warning her that the next few weeks would be the hardest as she fought the craving to have sugary or fatty foods.
And she was right—Carol often found herself waking in the middle of the night with cravings and hankerings, wandering into the kitchen to find a snack and halfway disappointed to find only fruit and rice cakes, but it was what she had to work with. Over the next six weeks she noticed some already impressive changes to her body. The first was that her face and hair started to clear up, the oil lessening daily, making her hair easier to manage and clear, her face starting to clear of acne, along with a vigorous hygiene routine.
Working out seemed even harder, though. Every day she fought to get her 250 plus pound body to move faster under Dana's watchful eyes, fighting off tears of pain on the stepmill as day after day she labored to get her body to burn calories at a more efficient rate. She hadn't even touched the weights yet—all she was doing was length cardio sessions coupled with modified bodyweight circuits to help get her muscles more conditioned after years of doing only the bare minimum. Every morning she woke up sore, went to work sore, and hungry, felt like she was barely
feeding herself before heading to the gym for something or other. But she knew the results would be worth it.
Her weight drop after six weeks was dramatic, and she had cut her weight down to about 215 pounds just by a change in her diet and an actual exercise regiment.
"Noob gains" Dana called it. Whatever they were, she wanted more of it, and now that her body was more adjusted to her daily routine she began to push a little harder with her workouts, finally moving on to small amounts of weight training and swimming to get more variety into her regimen.
Physical changes aside, she started noticing a stark difference in her daily attitude and her energy levels. She was much more positive at work, with her work, her co workers, even random people she interacted with during the day. She awoke every day a little less sore and a little more refreshed as she was able to sleep through the night. Pain in her lower back and knees started to subside, though she found that where fat had once occupied her skin, the distended skin remained. Undeterred, though it annoyed her, she found some help at work from someone who was a skin expert who provided her with some creams to help her skin regain its normal shape. Even better, she had to dig out some older clothes from storage, stuff that hadn't fit for at least five years but now she was able to get into with no problem.
That was probably the best part.
Now she was starting to look a little more normal, save for the fact that she was still six feet tall. And her face, too was starting to see some results—as she was shedding
her fat it was becoming plain that she was more attractive than she had given herself credit for all those years.
About four months into the program Dana confessed that she would have to leave for several weeks, a combination of competitions and work appearances keeping her on the road and away from the city.
"I'll be gone for a while," she had said, "but I need you to keep on going without me until I come back. I'm trusting you to get the work done, ok? Stay on track!"
Easier said than done, she had thought to herself at the time. She had been in this new daily routine for weeks now and it helped but there were some days that she didn't feel like going to the gym at all but, she knew in her heart of hearts that she couldn't let go of this goal. Still, she needed something to get over this recent plateau she had stumbled onto. She mulled it over for a few days, researching on the internet about possible ways to increase her progresses, especially with her guru out of town.
That's when the lightbulb turned on.
"Dammit," she said, slamming her laptop shut and rubbing her eyes with her hands.
"I'm a chemical engineer, I can make something! So stupid."
SO for the next few weeks she diverted her work hours to developing an easy compound that could safely boost her metabolism and recovery which, in turn, should increase her strength and muscle growth at a more appreciable rate. She had some frame of reference, common steroids that athletes used on a regular basis and honestly, though she was going to concoct it on her own, she felt the risks and side effects might be worth the potential rewards she might reap. She wasn't the first to try this and wasn't expecting to happen upon some miracle drug that dozens of other experts hadn't already come across, but maybe she could tweak it for her uses.
After several rounds of trial and error she was confident that she found a compound that she could safely and conveniently ingest. With Dana still one the road for several more weeks, she had a decent amount of time to see what might happen. She started taking it right away, two small doses daily without any other changes to her daily routine or diet. She had intensified it just enough that she wouldn't have to go through a longer cycle to see results. The most immediate change she could feel was after only a few days—even though she had been feeling more refreshed in the morning she had still suffered some soreness but found that, after a few days of taking the drug, the soreness had completely subsided, which had the dualistic
effect of both making her feel amazing but also lazy that she hadn't worked out hard enough to be sore in the morning.
So, incrementally, she began adding weight to all of her workouts and spending her free hours researching lifting more in depth: different styles, proper techniques, different variations, anything that would challenge her a little more. After the first week or so she was incredibly proud to have graduated to actual pushups, no long needing the support of her knees. It was only a few push ups to start with, but every morning and every night she started adding a few push ups here and there to do whatever she could to make even more progress.
Two weeks in and the drug started to effect her metabolism more intensely—she was starting to drop weight—both water and fat—like she had been earlier in the process and her skin was starting to conform more to her body. In fact, it was amazing that she now had a body for it to conform to. One night, as she prepared for bed, she regarded herself in passing in the mirror in gasped. In her reflection she saw, for the very first time, a woman, and a beautiful one at that. It was clear that she worked out as she wasn't overweight anymore but she didn't' have many visual muscles, which was the goal. However, seeing herself like this for the first time was enough to spur her on. That night, she also felt her libido return for the first time in years, and she enthusiastically masturbated before passing out between her bed sheets.
Confident that her body had adjusted to the drugs she slightly adjusted her dosage for the next four weeks, until Dana came back. During that time she kept up with the same routine but would add weight to her bodyweight routine to make things a little more challenging. She invested in a weight vest that she could adjust with weight bars when she felt the need to, and loved it so much that she toted it with her to work so she could use it both in the gym and at home, despite the extra fifteen to twenty pounds it added to her load. For the next several weeks she toiled alone, adding to her strict habits a preclusion to only wearing clothes that completely covered herself up, moreso for herself than other people. She wanted to be just as surprised as anyone else at her transformation, and the less she saw of her body on a daily basis, the more she would be surprised instead of looking herself in the mirror everyday and getting used to the changes on a gradual basis.
Dana eventually returned, about two months out from the reunion, and commented on her wardrobe change.
"It's still pretty hot out, don't you want to take off those sweats? And don't they smell? Or do you have a million pairs at home?" she joked.
It was partially true—her closet of clothes that actually fit was half sweat suits and half pant suits for work. She was taking this part seriously. Dana also noticed the dramatic increase in Carol's strength attained during her absence, but kept that revelation to herself, though it was quite shocking to watch as her first week back Carol did the originally prescribed workouts with a weight vest on, with strict, powerful movements. After a weekend off she returned to the gym on Monday to present to Carol a brand new workout program, one with actual weight training this time.
"But there's a catch," Dana said with a smirk.
"There's always a catch," Carol said as she stuffed her locker with her gym bag.
"The catch is don't close that locker yet, You're gonna put those sweats in there too."
"Oh, I couldn't do that," Carol said, her face turning beet red. "Besides, I only have a sports bra and hot pants on under this."
"Perfect, everyone will love it, you can't work out in these anymore, how will I see what your progress is like if you're always dressed like a homeless person!"
Carol hadn't thought of it that way, maybe she was making Dana's job harder because she was staying covered up. With only nine weeks left until the reunion it was a good time as any to take a look under the hood and make tweaks where necessary.
"Ugh, fine. But let me say I'm doing this under protest!" Timidly, she started to strip down, her pants first. Dana's jaw actually dropped as Carol's pants did. She had expected some kind of weight loss but hadn't been prepared for what had really happened during her travels. As Carol kicked her bunched up pants into the air to catch, she revealed a pair of rippling, muscular legs that reminded Dana so much of what she herself had looked like in high school, though because of Carol's height they were probably nearly the size of her pro-level quads right now. She was still "off-season" so there weren't cuts or crazy vascularity, but she had great definition in her quadriceps, and her calves bulged out from her shins.
While Dana gawked Carol started to take off her top next, pulling the cotton hoodie up and revealing a very tight and slightly muscular midsection, a four pack already clearly defined. When she had finished taking if off Dana observed the equally dramatic change in her upper body too—capped and wide shoulders, brawny
looking arms (that looked way bigger than hers!), lats that were also wide. How had she gotten lats that wide so quickly? She mulled it over to herself quietly as she walked Carol through her new routine.
At this rate, she thought, she might even look as good as me by the time we get to the reunion. Not that it mattered, she was still going to be the belle of the ball, so to speak. The weeks flew by and Dana watched with interest as Carol got fitter and fitter, and prettier and prettier as she seemingly easily packed on pounds of lean mass to her long frame, getting stronger on a daily basis and putting up numbers that would make even a dedicated gym-rat weak in the knees.
Suddenly, the reunion was only a week away, and Dana and Carol found themselves out shopping for dresses to wear, an enlightening and fun experience for both of them as neither could find a stock fitted dress that could accommodate their athletic and muscular frames and, having eventually found something they each liked, had to have it extensively altered so they wouldn't accidently destroy it by putting their hair into a ponytail.
At this point, Carol had transformed completely. The formerly overweight woman
had turned into a statuesque Amazon that drew eyes everywhere she went. Along with her dramatic physical change (which everyone at work seemed to comment on on a daily basis, though she would admit to helping it along by wearing strapless tops, shorter skirts, or lab coats that could barely contain her now fifteen-inch biceps and shoulders) and her increased libido (which, for the first time in her life, she found she had to exercise and now found that she could win people over to practice on), she had become completely confident in herself and could finally say for the first time that she was ready to face her old high school fears.
She arrived to the high school gymnasium, fashionably late of course, dressed in a midnight black velour dress that didn't quite reach halfway down her quads, and was tied around her neck on the top, which gave anyone a view of the sweepingly
low cut of the back of the dress, just mere inches above the shelf of her glutes. The front of the dress featured a hole in the fabric that more than adequately gave people a view of her impressive cleavage combination—thick pectorals and perky boobs. Her size, and the alterations, made the front a bit smaller than it was
intended, and there was an ample amount of side-boob in view.
Dana hadn't arrived yet so Carol immediately started to work the room, hunting down everyone that had made fun of her in high school (which proved to be almost everyone that had showed up) who were of course flabbergasted by her
transformation. Many were married—some to trophy wives others to frumpy women who twinged in jealousy whenever Carol walked up—but all of them seemed more than available to chat with Carol. Several asked her to flex for them, which she obliged with enthusiasm.
She did see a strapping man in the corner, sipping on some punch, that she didn't recognize. Maybe another late bloomer like herself, she thought, and went over to strike up a conversation. He seemed very enthusiastic and impressed with her physique, which was a compliment given his own development, and the two found themselves moving to a quieter corner of the gym to talk more. One thing led to another and the strange man eventually found himself picked up off the ground in the Amazon's brawny arms (she was taller by at least two inches), kissing passionately while the party continued.
Technically, it wasn't Carol's fault, she had never met Dana's boyfriend and he should have known better. But when Dana walked into the gym a couple of minutes later and saw the two of them swapping spit in a corner, her boyfriend feeling up her client and now supposed friend enraged her as she stomped across the dance floor.
"Jesus, Mark what are you doing??"
He put up his hands defensively, removing them from where they had been squeezing Carol's very firm but, which had shaped up nicely over the last couple of weeks. "It's not what it, uh, looks like!"
"You dumb oaf, I could see you copping a feel from the other side of the gym! And how could you do this Carol?"
Carol, oblivious until just now, blinked and suddenly turned very red and very sheepish. "Oh my god, Dana, is this your boyfriend? I seriously had no idea, I've never seen you two together before!"
"There are pictures of us all over Facebook! How could you not know!" "I dunno, I guess I never really looked!"
"You're unbelievable. And we're done. Not you Mark, me and you Carol. You're on your own now. Let's get out of here," she said bitterly, grabbing Mark's hand and forcefully pulling him away. He gave a forlorn look back at Carol as they departed. Carol sat in the nearest chair, and suddenly broke down crying. She wasn't sure why
she was so upset—maybe it was because she had blown a new friendship, one that had in many ways meant the world to her. But maybe it was time for something different, she thought, and new ideas and dreams started swimming about in her head as she sniffled in the corner.
Weeks passed after the severing of their friendship. Dana blocked or removed Carol from all social media so Carol couldn't even follow what she was doing. Not that it mattered. A couple of days after she had pinpointed her next goal—a bodybuilding show about six months away that she knew she could win, with the help of her special formula. Now the size of a larger physique competitor, she knew she had a significant amount of size to put on if she wanted to compete in the big girls club. She shifted her schedule slightly to accommodate for some extra training and started a new cycle of her wonder-drug.
As it turned out, it was harder to keep her mind off of training than she thought— the desire to grow was almost all consuming. She followed as many competitor inst@gram accounts as she could, asked questions openly on message boards and facebook about training to help her grow and get stronger, none of which helped to stave off the thoughts of training. It was so odd how she had gone from brainy to brawny, from math head to meat head so quickly. At least her co-workers thought so.
Though many of them, if not all, had been encouraging towards her sudden weight loss, knowing how much of a burden it put on her, they eventually started discussing myriad things regarding her person. The many scheduled, portioned meals she ate during the day with a side of protein shake. Her sudden, ravenous desire for red meat as part of those meals, especially in the afternoon. The way her lab coats had gone from being just big enough for her, to tents that she draped over her shoulders at her smallest, but now were busting at the seams with female muscle that her wardrobe did nothing to hide. They also noticed a change in her attitude—nothing bad, it was welcome actually. She was laser-focused on her work during the day, twice as productive as she had been in a long time. She was finishing projects, presenting results, and the company was better for it. They couldn't argue with the results of the changes, which benefitted both her and the company.
Eventually, though, Carol decided it was time for a break. From work, that was. Now just a few months away from her contest she really wanted to dial it in. She hadn't taken a day off of work since she had started working, and had considerable vacation time saved up. Normally, it would be frowned upon for an employee to take that much time off at once, but they couldn't argue with the facts: she had
finished more than a couple high-profile projects she had been given, and had helped others with theirs. That and two beefy arms that intimidated anyone she spoke to.
At least, finally free of work responsibility for a while, she was able to focus one hundred percent on her training. This meant ample and proper rest in the evenings, uninterrupted meals at her scheduled times, and fitting in an extra training session in the middle of the day. She practically lived at the gym at this point, and more often than not, took most of her meals at the gym, napped at the gym, earning both respect and more than quite a few stares.
The stares were for her physique. And there was a lot of it. Her tailored steroid, which she had increased the dosage for by fifty percent, had done wonders for her mass gains across the board. She found herself basically out of a wardrobe by the middle of the second month off, which forced her to alter her schedule once more, although only slightly. She bought some new workout clothes that had an extra room to move in, including a few sets of stringer tops that usually sold for the men.
The reason?
She was more or less built better than any of the men there. Her height, slightly taller than that of the average man but a head taller at least than most of the bodybuilders at her gym, and build allowed her to pack on as much muscle as the biggest guys in the gym, her shoulders broad like a doorframe, and her large ribcage supporting pectorals that were best described as slabs of beef. One of the side effects she hadn't been able to avoid, but didn't particularly mind, was the complete disappearance of fatty breast tissues. Though she still carried a fair amount of body fat as she started to lose weight for her show, her breasts had been the first thing to vanish, extra skin tightening up thanks to her friends skin cream. So she opted for the loose stringers, straps barely or not covering her pert nipples, her large lats completely exposed.
Fortunately, thanks to her tinkering the drug hadn't had any more adverse side effects, leaving her skin blemish free, her hairline intact, and her jawline still feminine. Eyes from both men and women followed her during her workouts, unable to process how much weight she was throwing around, repping 315 pounds on bench press, leg pressing over a half ton with ease, military pressing two plates a side. The attention was different for her—for so long she had forced to be a wallflower, no one had wanted to approach her because of her weight and hygiene, but now her situation had flipped completely. Admirers welcome or otherwise
would approach her during her workouts—fellow bodybuilders complimenting or starting, schmoes asking for photos or to touch her arms, both straight and lesbian women flocking to her whenever she didn't look like she was going to pick up a truck to cop a feel or just be in her presence.
It was quite overwhelming, to say the least.
Not that she didn't enjoy it, but all of the extra interruptions made it hard to focus on her workouts if she was too busy flexing or answering dumb and increasingly repetitive questions. So she pushed one of her workout sessions to after closing, thanks to the owners, where she was able to lift and throw weights intensely, without interruption. The progress she made as the show date closed in was astounding, and when she arrived it was abundantly clear that even though there were competitive physiques in the room, none compared to her. For the judges, it was too easy. They had to give her the win because she had no business competing at a large local show, but needed the qualification for something bigger. The next show was more of the same, just a few weeks later, and she earned her pro card in a landslide.
After that show, things started to change for her—she had the option to take her Olympia worthy (and Olympia qualified) physique straight to the top, and her sudden appearance on the bodybuilding scene came with a surge of media presence as photographers and magazines started to come out of the woodwork. Even though she returned to work from Monday through Friday, for the next several weeks her weekends were spent traveling for photoshoots and interviews around the country. She met every notable athlete in bodybuilding as she visited gyms and studios, the women admiring her physique, the men trying their best not to be embarrassed by their relative lack of development. Admittedly, this was a lot of fun and it added some sorely needed spice to her now-routine life. But, her goal of the Olympia was still in sight.
This particular year was a special one. It was the first show with women's bodybuilding in almost ten years, ever since that division of the sport had been declared dead with the creation and proliferation of the women's physique division. After strong campaigns from fans and athletes alike, the division was revitalized and promoted. At least a dozen high-profile athletes had decided to size up, having competed in women's physique and figure for years and placing poorly because of their unintended mass or body structure. Finally, an opportunity for them to cut loose! Carol felt she had a legitimate shot to at least place in this competition, and
given her height she would probably be the most massive woman on stage if she continued her current progress.
Still, she felt she needed to add some more mass to bring up weaknesses in her physique: a little more width to her back, more pop to her glutes and hamstrings, and just a little more peak to her massive biceps to put her over the top. Maybe even extra chest work to double her pec volume. Still on her work hiatus, she was able to adjust her schedule and training split.
A couple of weeks in, she just wasn't seeing the results and had plateaued. She was
very happy with her overall transformation, of course, but was hungry for more.
One night in particular she was showering before bed, toweling herself off and
walking into her bedroom. She had recently purchased her first large mirror—she
had been so depressed by her body image for years that she had only used the bathroom one that was about waist high on her but didn't show enough of her body
to remind her on a daily basis what she looked like. Now, with her Amazonian physique, she had splurged to get the large mirror installed in her bedroom. As she tossed her wet towel into the hamper she sauntered to the mirror, shaking out her hair.
She had gotten her body hair laser removed prior to her last show and consequently, other than some peach fuzz, was clean skinned all over. The soft
bounce lighting in her room cast perfect shadows, highlighting the grooves and crevasses in her epic physique But even in the fantastic lighting she could see tiny imperfections, at least to her new standard, and became impatient. Quickly, she threw on some clothes and drove into the office afterhours. It was almost empty, most researchers having left for the weekend, so she was able to get to her office without trouble. With energy to spare, and not needing as much sleep as she used to when she was heavier, she pulled a near-all nighter to make subtle adjustments to the make up and dosage of her special drug, something that would hopefully allow her to get over the hump and keep on packing on the mass.
The next few weeks were a revelation for her—within the first week she started to notice changes in how she felt and lifted. More energy, bigger pumps, more stamina. On more than one occasion she had to purposefully tear seams on her clothing to allow blood to flow because her circulation was being cut off. Her clothes busting pumps led to pounds of mass being added in the first month. She was nearing
"freaky" territory, as the drug simultaneously lowered her body fat around her muscles while adding mass and strength. Her vascularity by the end of the second month was off the charts, thick veins showing up anywhere and everywhere, though her face still stayed fresh and full. Now nearing two hundred and fifty pounds of
solid feminine beef, with nearly twelve percent body fat, she was truly a sight to behold.
The time eventually came for her to board a plane for the Olympia, in Vegas. Forced to fly first class because of her size, she got the usual stares from everyone in the airport, from the attendants curbside to the gate attendants that took her ticket as she boarded. The flight was short, only a couple of hours, and when she arrived she took an Uber to her hotel where she was able to crash for a couple of hours before weigh ins and tanning. After waking up she headed out and was turned to close the door when she heard a cough down the hallway.
She turned her head and gasped. She almost didn't recognize who it was but after a couple of seconds it was clear that her former tormentor turned trainer and friend turned nemesis. After months without even hearing from her, Dana had turned up not fifteen feet away, looking very different than when they had parted.
It was very clear that Dana had turned to steroid use and through some freak of genetics had kept her stunning looks and beautiful hair. But other than that, she looked ridiculous, even more so since she was a over a head shorter than Carol and probably packed on the same amount of mass on her smaller frame. Her arms, easily sixteen inches cold and unflexed hung at her sides, propped up slightly by thick and wide lats. She wore a crop-top vest with a plunging neckline that probably had taken considerable time to put on and even more effort to keep from popping off as she walked around, revealing her hard and distended abdominals that hung slightly over her tight skirt which was tightly stretched around her gigantic quads but still slim hips, which were cocked as she stood.
She was absolutely huge, and Carol couldn't come up with a response. Not that she was going to get one out. With surprising speed for someone of her size, Dana closed the distance between them, placed a hand on her shoulder and forced her back through the still ajar door back into the hotel room, slamming the door behind them. Now face to face, she grabbed Carol by both shoulders and twisted her into the wall, pressing her against it and actually pressing her up, making her feet rise off the ground just slightly. But she had to let her fall as she stood up on tip toes and mashed her lips against Carol's kissing her with surprising strength.
Carol, surprised herself, wasn't sure what to do. She had never been kissed in her life and she had always been waiting for the one boy in vain that would fall in love with her but never would because of her obesity. And now she was getting kissed by another beautiful, incredibly muscular woman in a pretty stunning turn of events. Despite that, she figured out quickly how to respond and kissed her in return. She
tried, struggled to unpin her shoulders but to no avail. As strong as she was, Dana was still stronger, and she easily kept Carol pinned to the wall for another few moments before slipping her arms around Carol's expansive back and up to the collar of her shirt, grabbing the material and tearing it off of her like it wasn't even there, and pulling her in a bear hug away from the wall and tossing her onto the bed, pulling off Carol's booty shorts and tearing off her own skirt with her other hand, revealing that she had gone commando and was sporting a steroid-enlarged and hardened clit.
Carol gasped with surprise when she saw it, and Dana reached down to rub it into
arousal, the shaft rising to a size comparable to one of her fingers at it hardened. Carol was still frozen as all of this new input was happening at once and she lay there as Dana moved in on her, entering her vagina with her still thickening clit, which had now become cock sized and was filling her cavity. The sensation was immensely pleasurable and she rolled her head back in ecstasy as Dana's hips bucked against her own, Dana's huge clit rubbing furiously against Carol's own normal sized one as they reached orgasm together.
Panting with pleasure, Carol managed to squeak out a sentence.
"Why...why are you here?"
Dana stood up off the bed and tied her hair into a ponytail with a band that had been on her wrist.
"I came here for you."
"How'd you know I was going to be here?"
"Oh it was pretty easy. Just because I blocked you on social media doesn't mean I can't see what you're doing. I've seen your posts and photos and progress. The photoshoots and your wins. After I left you at the gym I hung around with that loser for a while still, but we broke up. Or I broke up with him. He wasn't quite what I was looking for, especially after I saw what you were building." She snapped her fingers. "And then I realized I knew what I like and what I wanted for myself. So I started this project, to catch up and surpass you, and then make you mine," she said seductively as she crawled on the bed and hovered over Carol's body on all fours. Carol's heart was beating fast and her breathing was still shallow. She couldn't get her eyes to focus on Dana's face, she kept finding new parts of her outrageous physique to stare at with hunger. Dana pushed herself off of the bed and pulled Carol off of it.
"Put some damn clothes on and go weigh in. I expect you to win this show."
And she did, in another landslide victory. Her development and conditioning was too much for the other competitors who either were too small because they were playing catch up from a smaller division or the older ones who just weren't able to remain aesthetic. And then after her victory she posed alongside the male champion
which elicited gasps from the audience—not only was she taller than he was, but she outclassed him in every way, something no one had noticed when they were on stage separately. She knew it too, and smirked knowingly as she stood behind and in front of him purposely during their posedown, either eclipsing him completely in front or showing the crowd how much bigger she was in comparison. Wider, taller, thicker, and bigger.
The competition over, she returned to her hotel room to find Dana waiting for her, and they spent the rest of the weekend getting better acquainted. And after that, things started to go very well for Carol.
She eloped with Dana that weekend and returned home a married woman. It was quiet for a little while but soon after she started getting calls and visits from Hollywood agents inquiring if she'd like to play a role, coincidentally the role of Carol Danvers, Ms. Marvel. It was a tough decision and she loved her job but this was one opportunity that she couldn't pass up, and knew that she would excel in the role.
The reality was that she became an international star in the role, which was not a one off, and one that they actually asked her to grow a little larger for as she reprised her role in sequels and franchise team ups. Dana became an action star in her own right, staring in a few action movies in which she replaced roles that had been originally written for men. Strangely enough, the recent progressivism of the world made it so that not only were their physique accepted, they were actually celebrated, and female bodybuilding, once a popular sport in the 1980s, became a hot spot once more. Carol was also the first woman to ever star in a mainstream movie where she was able to spend extending time topless, her chest always better than her male counterparts. In all accounts a success.

[fp909]

This is based on old morphed images from powergirls and the like from awhile ago. Recently came across a few online and thought I'd write you guys something based on this. Maybe it will drudge up some old internet memories. Let me know if you want to see more of this character! I wrote this for Patreon a few months back (late winter) so if you're interested in getting access to this stuff on a regular basis at an affordable price ($4/post, or $6 if you want a little extra oomph to the stories) sign up! You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login

------
Man Arms
by fighterpilot909

------
I set my briefcase down on the desk and sat heavily in my chair. To say I was not ready for this new school year was a bit of an understatement. Sure, my lesson plans were in (tweaked only a bit from the previous year) but i was definitely missing the freedom of a summer vacation. I wasn't paid as much as some of my friends from college, and I do like teaching, it was just nice to not have the grind for three months out of the year.

Plus, there was always something new. It's only my third year, for transparency reasons, so I haven't exactly been around the block a hundred times, but it's been long enough that I know some kind of shitstorm is going to go down in week one. Parents who just moved here and want to know why their kid is being held back, or a kid that's extra maintenance and I have to walk on eggshells or else I'll end up in a "meeting" with helicopter parents who want to blame me for their parental shortcomings. Still, it was just the beginning of day one, the kids hadn't shown up yet; I shouldn't be so apprehensive.

Good news on the horizon; my email was free of any random announcements regarding my classes. I'm a ninth grade teacher, by the by, so all of my kids are "new" by default; new to the school, though they may be old to a lot of other students. Lots of extra responsibility for them to handle, especially in my class. I don't really like to teach by rote memorization. I like to engage in discussion as much as possible. So it looks like I was going to be getting a "normal" batch of students: I would be the envy of the rest of the faculty. Still forty-something kids to learn and keep track of (with help from my homeroom partner, of course) would be a challenge as always.

I dicked around on the internet for a bit, watching cat videos and catching up on sports news. The bell rang and a few minutes later a stream of confused, lost-looking fifteen-year-olds walked into the room, not really sure what to expect. I sat there and put my arms behind my head as I watched them file in, not saying a word. I wanted to see where they would sort things out for themselves. I could already tell the usual stereotypes, the jocks, nerds, overachievers, popular girls, fringe outsiders. The middle of the class filed out quickly, the ones that didn't really want to be noticed but could be called upon enough to prove they had a heartbeat, the overachievers in front eager to please, and the ones that didn't care and outcasts in the back. To my surprise a pretty looking girl also sat in the back row, and she wasn't there because she was the last one in class either.

I shrugged my shoulders and passed out some papers for them to look through, explained a bit how my class would work and what they might expect in middle school in general. There were a lot of moans, groans, general eye rolls, but at least I knew they were breathing. I wasn't thrilled to be up that early after summer vacation either, but those were the breaks. But I didn't want to kill them on day one, so we did some icebreaker exercises to fill out the rest of the class period, some games and puzzles to let everyone relax.

Well, not everyone. The girl in the back, Christine my roster told me, was still in the back, intensely reading something on her phone. The thing that stood out most about her was her arms and shoulders. In short, they looked very big, though it could just be that they were squeezed against her torso, but that didn't seem likely seeing that each arm sported a juicy-looking vein. I walked back and sat in the empty desk next to her, and casually glanced over at her screen to see she was playing a classic snake-type game.

"That's a pretty cool game," I said. "But it would be cooler with friends right?"

She glanced up at me briefly before focusing her attention on the game again, but answered me anyway. "Yeah I guess. I know what you're trying to do but don't waste your time, I've been going to school with these chumps for years, none of them like me."


"Well that's kind of a bold statement. People change you know."

"Haven't changed yet," she replied, still tapping away at the screen. "As soon as I got here they started teasing me again. But don't worry, I can handle it."

I guess I was wrong, seems like I would have a project on my hands this year. "Ok, well I'll let you get back to the game, but only for today. See me after school and we'll have a chat, ok?"

She nodded absentmindedly and I went back to my desk. Otherwise, the first day went pretty well, and I didn't have any problems. The end of the day rolled around and I had actually almost forgotten that I had told Christine to come back later, but there she was walking in at the ring of the bell. She dropped her bag into a chair and sat on the edge of a desk.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

I looked across my desk at her and leaned back into my chair. "Let me be frank: I have no idea who you are. You're coming here with a fresh slate from elementary school, and I haven't received any bad reports or warnings of you being a problem child. So what gives? Why are people teasing you?"

"It's because I have man arms," she said, matter-of-factly.

"That's silly. Don't listen to people. Just because you're an athletic young wom--"

She interrupted me. "No, I really do have man arms." She raised both arms and flexed and her arms exploded with muscle, her arms looking like someone had suddenly stuffed a grapefruit in under her skin. "It's fine, they aren't wrong, but I'm proud of them and isn't that all that matters?"
Whether or not that was what I was going to tell her initially was besides the point. But she did seem either really jaded or consigned to whatever fate she imagined for herself. "I mean.....that's not terrible?" I didn't really have an answer for her yet.

She relaxed and shrugged. "It is what it is. What do I do with sixteen inch arms? Who knows, but I think they look damn good. It doesn't really matter to me if these other jamokes are jealous."

She walked over and this time flexed one of those big biceps right in my face. "Are you jealous? Most men are. I wouldn't hold it against you." She pumped it again and sinews and veins popped under her skin. It was perfectly shaped, and big, big for a normal person but huge on her small sixth-grader frame.

Honest is always the best policy right? "Sure I'm jealous, most people would kill for arms like that."

"What about if I do this?" She snatched my shirt and hoisted me into the air, off my chair. "Or this?" She put her palm under my desk and lifted it clean off the ground, her arm bulging with the effort.

I was flabbergasted, this girl was massively strong.

"Yeah, I'm a freak right?" She grinned. "I think it's so cool, but they don't get it. I think i want to keep getting stronger but right now I'm only really into my arms. Maybe chest will be next, I'm not sure, but right now it's definitely arms."

She did alternating curls with me and the desk while she talked aloud. The pump she was getting was making her arms expand even bigger. "Sometimes with a good pump I can go over seventeen inches," she said, staring into my eyes. "That's pretty good, but I think i can beat that today." She put me back in my chair and the desk back on the ground.

One hand on her hip, and the other flexing her huge bicep, she wiggled a finger over the flexed peak. It wasn't very far away from her muscle. "I wonder," she said, wiggling her finger and looking at my crotch, which was somehow the location of tented fabric that I hadn't even realized. "If I can get my bicep big enough to touch like this, what will you give me?"

I stammered but didn't have an answer for her. She frowned and grabbed the entire containers worth of pencils on my desk holder in one hand, and squeezed until they snapped in half as a group. "Sorry, I didn't hear you, what will you give me if I can do that?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I forgot. What's in it for you?" She twirled in a circle and giggled. "Maybe I won't embarrass you in public. That's pretty nice right? Or if we can make a deal you can touch it whenever you want, and even tell me what I'm going to grow next. Will it be my legs, or chest? Or do you just want to see these babies get as big as I can get them?"

She walked over and shut the door, turning the lock, and came back to me. Instinctively I reached out and grabbed at her arm. "Looks like you're going to play nice. Ok, well let's see what we can do here to get these babies pumped up."

The desk was the heaviest thing in the room, and she grabbed it with both hands and turned to the side to give me the best show of her arms as she curled the desk up and down, her biceps bulging larger with every rep, it seemed. I wasn't bothering counting reps but she did seem to be getting more fatigued, finally. At least her strength had limits.

She put the desk back down with a bang and flexed her arm. The muscle kept rising and rising, bigger than before, until she was able to grab the top of her muscle with her whole hand. "Well, looks like I win. And my prize is straight A's all year! And of course you can't mention our little deal to anyone. And don't worry," she said, sitting on my desk across from me, in control. "I'm plenty smart, I'm already done with the high school curriculum. I'm not sure why my parents won't let me skip grades but I'm stuck her for now, so just make sure to give me the grades i was already going to get." She hopped off the desk and patted my cheek lightly before flexing her now bigger bicep right in my face again, a reminder not to screw up. I reached out to grab the hard muscle, it was big and felt like a rock. How was this on a twelve year old girl? She didn't let me hold on long, though.

"Don't want to get you all hot and bothered too soon," she said sweetly, heading toward the door. "There's a whole year ahead of us." She stopped at the door and turned her head to face me, and flexed her arm one more time to it's pumped height, giving me a spectacular view of her rear bicep. "And by the way, you should know that this is how big my bicep is normally." She squeezed and the peak rose, and rose, and rose, until it rounded off taller than her head, less a peak than as if someone had shoved a monolith under her skin. "This is why they call me man arms. You just got played." And she left.

I blinked a few times and rubbed my chin. My pants were wet in the crotch and there were pencil shards all over the floor. This year would certainly be...interesting.









I went home that evening completely floored, walking around the house like a zombie. All i could think about was the girl in my class with a mean streak and arms the size of mountains. It was Tuesday, and the Flash was on, but I decided instead to do a deep dive on the internet to see what I could find out about this girl. My first stop was Facebook, and I logged on and searched her name. A few profiles came up matching her name but after poking around, none of the profiles were hers. I sat back in my chair and wondered--she had to have a facebook, everyone did these days, and I looked at my class roster, hoping that maybe she was friendly with one of the other students, but none of them had her as a common friend. Then I went through the handbook with all the parent's contacts--highly frowned upon, but I had to find out more about this girl.

Her parents had perfectly normal names, and that made it extremely difficult to parse out who they could be, but finally I came across her mother, whose profile picture was a family portrait. I could recognize the girl anywhere; the photo was recent and I could see her athletic arms clearly in the sleeves in the photo.  Entering the profile, there weren't many photos present, and certainly none of the girl flexing, so I poked through her friends list, and then her friends' friend lists before I finally found the girl's profile, disguised with a garbled up name clearly meant to prevent anyone from finding her in a straightforward way.

Sifting through the photos in her albums, it seemed like she didn't want people to know how muscular her arms were, that much. BUT, there were a number of photos were her arms bulged; I dragged them to my desktop to save them. One of the photos linked to her inst@gram, so I went their next, and that was a veritable gold mine. She was much more active there, and posted frequently. Her handle was "man_arms" and she definitely was not shy about flexing there. There were definitely defined themes to her photos: shaming men, and showing her strength. A lot of her photos featured her flexing next to massive bodybuilders, their faces filled with embarrassment as the teenage girl flexed up an arm much larger than theres. Some of the throwback photos featured her as a younger girl flexing up large arms, smaller than the men but still more than impressive, while normal people admired them. She often compared them to similarly sized objects: bowling balls, fruits, whatever was available. Her arms were always in various states of flex; the most striking photos were of her in casual poses, 'gently' flexing her bicep while reading on the bed or doing her hair and a massive muscle appearing.

The folder I was creating to store these photos was growing larger by the minute, and I had started downloading some of the videos she had left on her profile. Eventually I took a quick break, leaning back in my office chair and putting my hands over my eyes in exasperation. It was an utterly incredulous situation that I had found myself in, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to get myself out of it. Judging by the responses she left on her inst@gram photos she seemed more like the type to leverage her power because she could, not because she was genuinely mean.

I started to think of a plan, maybe something that would counter-leverage her offer into something that would actually benefit her education, rather than getting off with a free pass. She had mentioned that if I was a "good boy" or whatever I could pick her next muscle group to get huge...well maybe that was my way in. Maybe I could buy into her offer so completely that I could actually get her to learn something. I did teach math, I could certainly get that in there, maybe something else. But I'd have to work gradually to make it happen.

I'm not opposed to fit, muscular women. I don't really celebrate it but it's not particularly my thing. This was a different level of muscle though, muscle that I would never see the likes of again whenever she left that school. It felt weird to be scrolling through all these photos, re-scrolling through them again and again, reliving my experience in the classroom earlier that day. I thought about my involuntary ejaculation--I hadn't even noticed that I was erect, and it happened so quickly I hadn't been able to stop it.

That gave me pause. Was I, deep down, drawn to that? The concept of a woman so muscular that...that she was almost a force of nature? I began to wonder what those arms were capable of, and what the rest of her could do if she actually put some work into it. My penis started to harden in my pants as I thought about her lifting the desk and me effortlessly, and breaking the pencils like it was nothing. I didn't get very far into my fantasy, my boxers were wet again, and I hadn't even need to do anything other than think about her. Quickly I shutdown my computer and hit the showers. This girl was in my dome something serious.

My next day went fairly well. Christine sat in the back, minding her business, knowing that she didn't have to do much. I went about my own business, taught my classes without incident (it was only day two, anyway) and didn't bring anything up. I had to do my best not to look at her exposed arms--she didn't seem to be actively trying to test me by flexing them, which was great, but anything she did with her arms made them bulge ominously. Finally the end of the day came and I decided to make my move.

"Christine, can you hold back after class for a little bit? I wanted to talk."

She blew out a sigh but hung around. "Ok, what is it?"

"I was thinking a little about what you said yesterday, and I'm in."

"Uh...you're in?"

"Yeah, I'm in. I want to chose which part of your body you build next. I want to see how big you can really get."

She cocked her head and sat in a chair. "Ok, I'll bite. What's in it for you?"

"I get to see how big you can really get."

"That's it?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "That's it."

"Huh. I mean, do you want to touch my muscles or anything?"

"If you let me," I replied, "but you don't have to. Do you let people touch your muscles?"

"If they want. Sometimes I make them pay."

I gulped audibly.

She shook her head. "Sorry, I mean like money, not like beating them up. I could, though."

Pausing, she rested her chin on her hands and peered at me. "Are you trying to feel my muscles for free?"

"I wouldn't be, I'm paying you in A's already." I was hoping that she'd drop this line of question.

"I guess you're right. Ok, so that's all you want?" I nodded. "Ok, so what do you want me to blow up?"

"I want to see how big you can get your chest."

"My pecs?" Sitting back in the chair she looked down at her chest, pulling the hem out a bit and looking a little longer. She tensed her chest and a line of definition appeared. She already had pecs, but they weren't really there. "I guess it would be nice to have some kind of cleavage. How big do you want them to get?"

"Uh, excuse me?"

"How big do you want me to make them?"

"Uh. Ok. As big as you can get? Big enough to make people think you have really large boobs." I couldn't believe I was having this conversation.

"Ok. Do you want to touch them too, after?"

"Uh." I wasn't really sure how to answer, and she picked up on it.

"Relax, they won't be boobs anyway, just muscle, I won't tell on you or anything."

"Oh. Well, yeah, I guess."

"Ok, well I'll get it done."

"Wait, I do have a couple of requests."

"What are those? I don't really have to do anything I don't want to. You can't make me."

"Well one request was that I want to see your workouts. For you to send me videos of you working out. I want to see what you can do and how you do it."

"I'll think about it. What's the other request?"

"I want to see how easy it is for you to do anything with your arms. I want to see you do ridiculous feats of strength with your biceps while doing something really easy."

"Easy? Like what?"

I pulled a worksheet out of my desk. "Like your homework."

She laughed in my face. "I'm not doing that, but nice try."

"I don't know. I've seen your inst@gram, you like to post some crazy stuff. How crazy do you think it would be to see a middle school girl curling forty pounds in one hand and doing their math homework with the other."

"Ok, one it's weird that you stalked my inst@gram, and two, people would think that's boring."

"I'll cut you a deal. If you get less than your average likes on the video I'll give you fifty bucks."

She looked at me incredulously again. "Geez, ok fine you got a deal. I'll do your dumb homework. I'm going to win that fifty bucks though."

I wasn't so sure about that. She had a ton of followers and I had seen enough to know that she would definitely get a lot of likes. However, I also wondered if she was actually going to do the math to see what her average was. It was easy to find online, but hopefully she would surprise me.

"I'll build these up nice and thick for you," she said, blowing me a kiss on the way out the door. "Oh, and I haven't touched 40s since I was 7. I don't curl anything under 100 pounds now."

I waited until the door had closed before blowing a sigh of relief. I guess my plan had worked, kind of, if even for one day. I wouldn't be able to make this a daily thing, I didn't have the money for that, but maybe I could get her to agree to some different terms and get her doing homework and earning her grades on a regular basis. I would have to do some more considering, but that would have to wait to see how she did tonight. I had different ideas coming to me now, like if she would be able to figure out how to calculate the surface area or volume of her biceps, and later her pecs and whatever else, or even some other things where I could get her to work out in the gym but also do work. If I was really successful with it maybe i could get her to be an all around better student than when she walked in, and she actually wouldn't mind doing things for once.

I was getting a bit ahead of myself though. But having known many people who needed something they were interested in, truly, to spark their ability to be good students and actually learn, maybe even put them on the path to a career. Selfishly, though, I did want to see how big she could get, how hard her muscles were, and what they were capable of. I wanted to have an experience like no one else ever would, and investigate more into my odd feelings toward, well, extremely muscular women.

I went home a little excited, and went about my normal routine, except for the fact that I was glued to my phone the whole time, refreshing Christine's inst@gram page to see when she would post. I was semi-obsessive about it. It took a few hours but she finally did put a video up--it was a short clip of her curling the back end of one of her parents cars in the driveway while she did homework with her other hand on a stool she had brought outside. Her bicep bulged crazily while she curled, like she could on forever, and her bicep had made a small dent in the chassis of the car where it kept making contact from growth. But she wasn't even paying attention to that all that much because her head was turned toward the worksheet i had given her, and she looked like she was actually doing real work.

But I didn't have time to celebrate my small success because I had ejaculated without manipulation for the third time in two days.

I did receive two emails later in the evening, late, linking to large files stored on google drive. They were from Christine, and were absolutely enormous, but came with a message to download them as quickly as possible because she would be deleting them. There was no chance in hell I was going to get started on some rabbit hole type shit this late at night, but I did start the download with the hope that maybe I could watch them tomorrow. Just to be sure, I messaged myself the videos so I could view them on my phone during the work day, though that could be risky for sure, but all i could think about that night was what was in that video.


-----

I didn't see Christine for a few days after that. I got a note in my school mailbox from her mother, excusing her for a few days for sickness. That seemed pretty odd to me, considering how she had seemed perfectly fine to me the first two days of school, and how she had sent me a video of her curling the back end of the car, but I shrugged it off and continued as if nothing had changed. It just seemed weird that someone who had super-genes would be knocked out of commission by a cold.
Regardless, I went about my days as normal. Classes were fine, I didn't have to go out of my way to address her because she wasn't participating, and I wasn't worried about her lifting me off the ground and throwing me across the room if I accidentally upset her. At home, I did check her inst@gram frequently, but she hadn't posted since the bicep video. I briefly considered messaging her but decided against it--it was a bad idea all around. Better to let it play out from her end. And in bed I tossed and turned in my sleep, my dreams consumed by the middle schooler with enormous arms and unsettling imaginings of what the rest of her could look like if she trained.

Saturday rolled around and I was glad for the first weekend of the school year to just unwind and reflect. Say what you want about teachers, but sometimes the scheduling is absolutely fantastic. Plus, it was college football season, and I was able to  sit in and watch games all day without interruption. Or so I thought. I got about halfway into the first big game of the day before my bell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone, and this being 2017 and not 1994 I wasn't too keen on unwanted guests, especially at eleven in the morning on a Saturday. But, regardless, I got up and went to the door.

I live in a large-ish apartment building so we have pretty standard doors--a couple of locks and a peep hole. I pressed my face to the door to see who was on the other side. At first I was just looking at the door of the unit across from me, until a little glint of gold caught my eye and I looked down, where a blonde-haired girl waited for me to open up.

How Christine had found my address, which isn't published, well, anywhere, I didn't know but here she was. I undid the locks and opened the door--she was standing there, all five feet, few inches of her in a t-shirt and jeans, carrying her backpack. She looked me up and down and giggled.

"Nice outfit."

I realized that I was still in my pajamas, a Power Rangers themed outfit that I had been wearing for years (so sue me, they were very very comfortable).

"Christine, uh, hello. How did you find out where I lived?"

"Oh, you can do anything on the internet these days, it was pretty easy. May I come in?"

She was being unusually polite, for her. But I stepped aside and let her in.

"Nice place. You watching the game too?" She plopped on the couch as the game was coming back from halftime.

"Yeah, I'm here all day watching football. Maybe you guys think I'm a nerd because I'm your teacher but I like sports and stuff too." I sat on the edge of the couch, not wanting to get too close. She noticed and grinned toothily.

"Aren't you uncomfortable? Or are you afraid I might do something to you with these?"

She did a double bicep flex sitting down, her arms exploding in size and quickly rising over the height of the couch back itself, as vascular and hard as I remembered them from earlier in the week. Pumping her arms a few times, I swear on my life that her arms seemed to get even bigger.

"No. It's just highly unusual for a student to show up at their teacher's house unannounced."

"It's also 'highly unusual'" - she put giant air quotes around the words with her voice but flexed and unflexed her arms twice, hard, making a dramatic display - "for an fifteen year old girl to be able to curl a car with one hand, but here we are." She stopped flexing and leaned forward to take off her backpack and dropped it on the floor.

"Anyway, I just thought you might want to see the progress I made."

"What progress? I thought you stayed home sick?"

"Uh I lied? So I could stay home and work out? You're the one who wanted to see me get as big a chest as I can and I can't do that if I'm sitting around in school. And don't complain because I really worked out my arms just for you. That wasn't really a full flex either."

If I had been drinking water I would have spit it out, but I kept a straight face. "Ok, well I'm glad you were able to work out."

"You should thank me. It was really hard because my arms are so strong so I had to do things like bench press my parents cars. I had to do push ups for 10 hours straight just to get a chest pump. By the way do you have any cereal or anything, I'm really hungry."

I nodded. "Yeah, sure I guess." I went to the kitchen shaking me head. Did she mean she had to use one car and then the next because it was heavier or both at the same time? How strong was she, really? I poured her a bowl of the only thing I had, Lucky Charms, doused it in milk and brought it back to the living room. I set it on the table and went back to my spot on the couch arm.

"Oh, that's too far away for me, can you bring it a little closer?"

I looked at her quizzically, but she just smiled sweetly, so I picked up the bowl and tried to hand it to her, but she wouldn't take it.

"Hold on a sec! I can't just put it on my lap." She clasped both hands in front of her and I saw her arms begin to tense. In a matter of moments I began to see why: her chest was growing before my very eyes, two identical mounds of muscle pushing away from her sternum, rumbling forward like a locomotive as they added more and more muscle. Pretty quickly she had added three or four inches of pectoral muscle.

"Pretty cool, right? I just have to wake up my muscle sometimes. This is what they were like before I started working out. It's awesome that I can make them small when I don't need them, way easier to fit in clothes. You ready?"

She didn't wait for me to answer, and this time she didn't even bother to clasp her arms together. Her chest just, simily, grew. Grew forward, out, sideways, down. In a matter of seconds her pectorals had burst through the front of her shirt and were still expanding, now hanging over her knees as the continued to grow. She grunted softly, and her pecs jutted out in a small burst--when they finally stopped moving they were hovering over the coffee table not too far away from where the bowl of cereal had been moments before.

I was speechless and didn't know what to do when she took the bowl from me and set it on top of her massive pectoral shelf. She frowned. "I can't see the television anymore," she said and made a big show of picking up the bowl again and rotating her body so she could lie on the couch facing away from me so that she could still watch the game. Her pecs swung, literally swung, around as she moved, but didn't move an iota she shifted. She put the bowl back on her chest and happily ate as she watched the game move on.

From my vantage point it looked as if her chest filled the whole couch. I couldn't even see her legs anymore. All I could see was twin, pulsating hyper-mounds of muscle. She looked like a crazy cartoon come to life. We were both silent for a while, the only sound the crunching of cereal. But soon she turned to look back at me, her chest swaying as her torso twisted.

"Aren't you going to sit down and watch?"

My mouth gaped. She had to know there wasn't any room to sit on the couch or see around her chest. "Where am I supposed to sit?"

She patted the top of her chest. "Right on top of here. I won't even feel it, I promise.  But you can feel whatever you want, I guess."

I paused, but got up from the arm of the couch and went to the other end, and hopped on her chest, the huge, pulsating balls of muscle not even sagging an inch as my weight settled on them. She looked up at me and smiled.  All I could do was stare are the massively deep cleavage and the networks of veins that spread across the surface of her muscled tits. They were the biggest boobs I'd ever seen in my life and they were literally all muscle.

"Isn't this great? I can barely feel you up there. And check this out." My body started jumping up and down as she flexed her chest underneath me--I was flying in the air at least a foot with each bounce. Instinctively I grabbed at the nearest thing to grab hold (her chest) and tried to hang on for dear life as I popped up yet again and landed on my stomach. I blushed as I grabbed her chest and realized I was holding onto her engorged, muscle-filled nipples which at this point seemed harder than anything in my body. They were big enough for me to grab onto fully.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you were feeling me up. I know you're into all this anyway, I can feel you poking me right in between my pecs."

I felt my face get even hotter as I realized she was right--I had sprouted an erection that was fighting to press into her cleavage.

This was so embarrassing.

"I could let you feel how strong they are but I think I might kill you on accident," she said. I felt her chest soften a little and ripple, literally sucking me into her chest. She had me by the tip, quite literally, and made no qualms about teasing me like this. Her chest hardened and softened alternately, milking me to my breaking point which hit quickly. I couldn't help myself as I pumped out what seemed like a gallon of fluid that seeped out under her chest in little droplets.

I was still holding onto her nipples when her chest suddenly receded very quickly to something more manageable, and i was sitting on her lap in my damp, torn pajamas. Her chest was still very muscular, her nipples still thick and huge.

"I guess I should thank you, I can do anything I want if I put my mind to it."

She pulsated her pecs in my face as she continued talking. "I'll make you a deal. You keep pushing me to be bigger, better, stronger, and I'll do your homework and tests. I'm not dumb, I just don't want to do the work. But if you really buy into me as some goddess or whatever I won't stop you. I'll show you just how big and muscular I can get, whenever you want. Honestly, I get really turned on by my own strength and I really haven't tested myself until you challenged me."

She pushed me to the other side of the couch with her sneakered foot and grabbed her backpack on the floor next to the couch and pulled out a full set of pool balls, cue ball included, and dropped them in her lap. She stared at me and continued talking as she placed each ball in front of the other, stacked two high, expanding her chest to keep them in place until she had run out of balls, and then flexing them even further to make them disappear altogether, her pecs bumping against my face five feed away, her nipples twice as big as before, her pecs so high I couldn't see the ceiling. I could only hear her muffled voice.

"So tell me," she said, as her chest suddenly turned into a vein, red, mass of impossible muscle and I heard muffled series of cracks and pops as a simple flex crushed the balls submerged into her chest. "What do you want me to grow next?" Her chest receded a second time, and as it fell back piles of fine powders fell onto my lap, hers, and the couch. She had crushed an entire set of pool balls to dust, and she was only getting started.

[Jeremy Lightning]

Wow, this was an incredibly hot story to read, I love it when a girl can basically work out hard and long, and grow seemingly at will, grow bigger, grow stronger, grow tougher, also, I like that she still wants to get even bigger and stronger in every single body part, my vote, if I was in his shoes, I'd like to see her abs grow, then her butt. k+!

[srielley]

Nice story full of unexpected growth  .
Keep it coming and we'll see where she will grow next, be it legs, gluts. or back...