+Notable Author: [Amnoartist] Stories~collected 2017

[Amnoartist]

 

Stories in this collection:

Possessed

Large Grandma



Possessed
Written & edited by Amnoartist
___________________________________

Chapter 1: Broken Hearts & Shattered Bones

"Alright, let's see what we've got here."

Terry unzipped the body bag, slowly revealing the fresh corpse within. He felt pitiful towards the woman before him. Her wounds were horrifying to look at, even though Terry's experience as a medical examiner was past a decade now.

The woman in question was blonde; long wavy wisps of hair spread across her lithe back and shoulders. The wide laceration running horizontally across her cheekbone made her face appear akin to Nolan's depiction of the Joker, accompanied with bruises and other, small cuts.

Terry's partner James examined the sheet of paper on the clipboard carefully. "She's another Jane Doe, at least until we get some DNA tests done."

With a gloved hand Terry turned Jane's head to the one side to inspect the fresh bruising. His professional opinion presumed Jane had been dead for a little over three hours prior to being carted to the hospital.

"She didn't have any ID on her?" Terry enquired, slightly grossed by the abhorrent mounds of slashed flesh on the woman's cheek.

James shook his head. "No passport, library card, nothing. She's a blank slate."

Terry slowly turned Jane on her stomach, her modest bosom pressing gently into the cold steel of the table. Terry moved back in shock at the sudden sight before him, almost tripping over the tools by his side. James saw it too, but was less squeamish.

A wide, inches-deep cut had been driven into Jane's spinal column, exposing the tendons and bone marrow.

"How did she die exactly?" Terry took a couple of deep breaths to maintain his composure. In all the years he'd been an ME and saw vicious wounds on so many Jane Doe's, this particular Jane presented the worst.

"Hit by a car when crossing the road" James revealed, reading from the report. The more he read into it, the more sorrowful he felt towards the woman. "Mortal wounds are extensive: broken legs, shattered spinal column, wide lacerations across the front and back." He sighed. Judging by the woman's large number of wounds and how damaging they were, even if she somehow survived, death would've been more a blessing than a curse for her. "She was lucky."

Terry glowered. "Hey, show some respect for the dead, eh?"

James nodded.

The door swung open to reveal two stout paramedics wheeling in another corpse, positioning it near Jane.

"Another one, boys?" James unzipped the body bag and let out a surprised "woah" at the corpse within.

A 20-something redhead beauty with cold dead eyes stared at the ME, and that wasn't even what took him by surprise, rather the muscles that jutted out of her frame in seemingly all directions: up, down, her right and left flanks, behind...

"She another Doe?" Terry was just as surprised by the redhead's mass as his partner, but was able to keep himself in check.

The larger of the paramedics shook his head. "Police report indicated she went by the name of Lynn Dawson, a, um... professional bodybuilder."

James scoffed. "Figures." Although he had to admit this Lynn was surprisingly large for her age.

"And the irony is" the smaller paramedic said, moving up to Jane with a knowing expression, "she's this Doe's killer, albeit unintentional."

Terry turned poker-faced at this surprisingly revelation, shifting his attention between Jane and Lynn. "You're kidding me?!"

Both paramedics were inclined to disagree through shaking their heads in unison.

James scoffed. "Ain't that some shit." He turned to Lynn curiously. It seemed despite the strength and largeness of her body, she was ultimately betrayed by her car.

///

James flipped Lynn onto her stomach like Jane had been before her stomach was examined for any external wounds, which revealed a wide gash along her left oblique.

"This Lynn is a pretty big chick" James said, eyeballing the redhead's thick globular calves that bored striations with a hint of gentle vascularity, before moving his down further to her sharp glutes. "Like, 'bigger than your dad' big."

Leaning forward, Terry probed Jane's eyes gently with his gloved hand curiously, awed by the gentle hint of green that shimmered behind the cold blanket of their otherwise cold deadness. "Seems Doe here had green eyes." He straightened up to take a deep breath. "What about Lynn?"

James did the same as his colleague, running a finger across Lynn's eye to find its gentle water blue tint hiding behind it. "Blue" he said.

"Any wounds?"

James lifted Lynn's arm to show Terry the slash of thick bloody meat in her right oblique. "Seems all those muscles couldn't save her."

"She might be stronger than the two of us put together," Terry cleaned out Jane's spinal wound with a wipe, "but she's no less human than you or I."

James scoffed. Terry always was one for being the most philosophical out of them.

The bell struck midnight; time for the two ME's to have their night shift meal.

"They've got that mushroom and cauliflower pasta dish going on at the canteen tonight, don't they?" Terry was practically salivating at the thought of eating that piece of bliss once again.

James smiled. "Yeah. But after eating that curry last night, I've lost my appetite."

"You're not coming then?"

"Oh I'm coming." James removed his bloodied gloves and tossed them into the waste bin before hooking up his apron. "Anything beats being around death all day."

Terry smiled. "That's the spirit." He mirrored James, tossing his gloves into the bin and removing his apron before leaving.

///

Barely five minutes had passed since the two ME's left for their late-night meal and a storm was kicking up outside; the flashes of forked lightning were so violent and frequent, it felt like more like a disco light display than lightning, and the thunder rolled loud enough to drown out all other noises.

The room fell dark almost suddenly, intermittently lightened up by the violent flashes of lightning spurting out and rolls of thunder.

Eventually, once the hospital had gone pitch black from power failure, putting the lives of hundreds of patients at risk, everything fell eerily silent; the thunder came to a sudden halt, to the point where the ensuing silence was almost deafening, and the lightning flashes no longer gave the rooms a vibrant flash of light, and—

Jane's chest heaved as a sharp inhale brought her back to the world of the living; her cold dead eyes flickered to life as one iris changed from its cute lime green hue to water blue, making the girl a heterochromia. All she saw for a moment was sheer darkness, adjusting to the light, or lack thereof.

Audibly straining, she sat up and looked around, the vast open wound on her back spread outward like wings, slightly throbbing with pain, inviting her to touch it before yelping out softly at the flesh's tenderness.

"What the fuck happened to me?" She saw Lynn's corpse.

"You can say that again" the voice called out. It was sweetly toned, like velvet.

Jane screamed. "Who the fuck--" She tried to wrap her head round how she could be dead, yet sat there breathing. Plus, she also wondered where the voice came from. There was nobody else in sight, after all. "Where are you?"

The voice chuckled, as if what Jane said was more a joke than a question. "Where? Well, that's subjective really."

"No, seriously, where?" Jane was not in the mood for games, understandably.

There was a disembodied sigh. "The last time I checked, I was on my way to get a tan. The next thing I know, I'm--"

Jane's eyes bugged out, looking back at Lynn's corpse. "Dead."

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!" Lynn groaned softly, flashing back to that fateful last moment of her life, as did Jane, which horrified her, as she saw her killer.

"You killed me!"

Lynn sighed. "I did not actively seek out to kill you, and you know that. That's what you get for running out in front of the light."

Her head nipped; it was all too much to process so soon, and it was only going to get worse. She didn't even remember running out in front of a light. "But how are you in my head?"

"I'm not. You're me and I'm you. We are us" Lynn explained, or at least she tried to; it only made things worse for Jane. "I'm in nobody's head because this is my head, so to speak."

Jane groaned, reaching for her throbbing temple. "How do you know?"

"Clinically speaking, I've been dead two minutes longer than you; I've... seen things." Lynn's ensuing silence was a tad unnerving for Jane to handle. "Things you only got a hint of."

Jane fell silent.

"You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" Lynn asked rhetorically.

"I think so" Jane said softly before a memory of sorts flashed to show a place drowned in light. "That was Heaven, right?"

Jane was right to at least think the place she saw was Heaven, but she was wrong. It was somewhere... different.

Lynn was silent for a moment before changing the subject. "Well, you know my name. So, what's yours?"

Jane thought hard. Looking down, she saw the name tag on her toe and frowned. Her name definitely wasn't Jane Doe; it just didn't feel like hers. And then she realized.

"I... I don't know."

Lynn sighed. "We'll go with Riley for now."

Riley simply smiled.

"Well, Riley, as much as I know you want to know more about the place in question, you're not ready yet, not strong enough both mentally and physically." Lynn knew what she said wasn't entirely fair, but she didn't make the rules either. "But in time, you will be."

Riley cocked a brow in confusion. What exactly did Lynn mean by that?

"I'll tell you more about that later, but right now," Lynn sighed apologetically, "you really need to clean up that back of yours; it's disgusting."

Riley twisted round to see the thick bloody mound of jutting tendons, flesh and bone that was her back. She nearly vomited at the sight before wincing as the wound slowly started to close up and heal at a near superhuman rate, leaving only the scarred tissue.

Riley looked into a small mirror hung on the wall and examined her face. The Joker-esque scar across her cheek had completely healed as well, as if it never existed to begin with. "How did you..." She traced a finger across the fresh scar on her back, her heart jumping sorrowfully at the fact there was one, holding back tears of anguish.

"I can only heal so much, sorry" Lynn's voice was sad, as if she wished she could do better. "But you wouldn't be sitting upright if it weren't for me either. Broken spine and all."

Riley continued to examine herself in the mirror before eyeballing the faint shadowy and broad silhouette behind her that, upon turning round, she realized only she could see through mirrors. Turning back to Lynn's corpse, the blonde soon deduced the mysterious figure in question was Lynn's ghost.

"So, what now?" Riley was lost. She was resurrected, as hard as it was to believe, didn't have a past or any memories to speak of, and didn't know what to do because of that.

What to do?

"Well, first, get some clothes on, you naked babe" Lynn snickered. "Then we'll see what we can do about after."

"We?"

Lynn scoffed. Surely Riley was able to connect at least some of the dots by now? "Well, unless you know how to send me back to my cold corpse, I'd say we're 'stuck together' for the time being."

Riley groaned. It was ironic she was now going to spend a lot of her time with her 'killer.'

"Besides, I reckon it'd be much preferred by everyone to live in someone else's body than be dead and never come back" Lynn professed as Riley barged through the double doors in a small towel, covering her breasts with her arm, wisps of blonde hair waving gracefully as she passed the air conditioner.

"Run, blondie, run!" Lynn chuckled. "If only you could see your ass from this angle."

[Amnoartist]

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Chapter 2: Science

Six months later...

"Do we really have to go through this again?"
Riley sighed, tugging at the sleeve of her grey suit jacket, running a hand through her flaxen wisps of hair. In the six months since her unexpected bonding with Lynn, she'd become accustomed to the ghoul's nagging. But on this particular occasion, it just wouldn't do.
"Yes" Riley professed. She peeked through the small windowpane on the door in front of her and saw Billie her psychiatrist running a hand across her bookshelf. "And I'd appreciate it if you actually cooperated this time."
Billie had been Riley's therapist for the last four months and endeavoured with the blonde to help piece together her identity, among other, far different and ethereal things – things that Lynn only seemed to understand.
"Fine – so long as I get to see her from the back this time round. She has quite the ass on her, you know" she said with a chuckle. Lynn had made things difficult for Riley on several occasions. One of the reasons for this was she was lesbian while Riley was hetero, not to mention Riley had to occasionally deal with explaining why she was 'talking to herself,' since nobody but her could hear Lynn speak. So, naturally, having a relationship in general was a hard task on its own, let alone being in a stable one.
"Shut up" Riley scolded, barring her teeth as she gripped the door's handle. She scanned the hallway to make sure no one saw or heard her talk to herself. Luckily, she was in the clear – a rarity in itself. "I won't have you mess this up, this time."
Lynn chuckled. "Alright, girl, jeez. Calm it."
Riley sighed again. She knocked the door and waited, her patience wearing thin on account of Lynn's deliberate attempts to annoy her.
"Come in" Billie said softly through the door, turning from the bookshelf with a smile. She watched her client nervously tread across the carpet biting her lip before taking a seat in front of her.
"Sorry I'm late – someone decided to get on my nerves today" Riley explained irately, rolling her eyes.
Billie chuckled softly as she took her seat. "That's fine. No rush." Billie was aged similarly to Riley, which gave the formerly dead woman an advantage of sorts when it came to explaining her 'predicament' with Lynn. Billie's beauty would've made Lynn fall head over heels in love with her, if she could see what they blonde actually looked like, with long blonde hair and a sizeable bosom and hourglass figure. It was often Riley's 'job' to describe people's appearance to Lynn, which wasn't that hard to do since she had to describe Lynn to Billie for the first time.
"How've things been going since our last session?" Billie poured tea into a mug and offered it to Riley. Billie always offered her clients tea when their meetings started; she was of the mind it would help ease their nerves.
"Alright I suppose. I've settled into a flat a few miles from here and share it with someone." Riley sipped the tea and basked in its deliciousness. This was proper tea she was served.
"Yeah, Tess. That's another hot piece of ass right there." Lynn chuckled softly knowing all too well she was getting on Riley's nerves.
The blonde rolled her eyes. "Will you shut up?"
Billie's interest was piqued. In all the four months she had been her psychiatrist, this was the first time she'd saw Riley negatively respond to Lynn around her. "What'd she say?"
Riley sighed. "Nothing."
Billie leaned in closer to her client. "Riley, you and I both know you're here for help – my help. I can't give that to you if you're not honest with me."
"Ho-ho, Billie's feisty today, ain't she? Me likey!" Lynn quipped.
"Trust me; you'd be safer if I didn't tell you." Riley hoped Billie would trust her enough to know what she said was the truth. Billie leaned back on the chair with a knowing grin.
"How's she doing?" she asked, referring to Lynn.
The ghoul scoffed. "Tell that bimbo she knows that 'she' has a name."
Riley sipped the tea again. Now they were down to business. Most of the conversation she had with Billie were either completely centred around or ended up being about Lynn. She was the centrepiece of all this, after all.
"She's doing alright I suppose. She's got me working out nearly every day now, and I spend most of my time doing that" Riley explained. There was a hint of sadness in her voice, as if she'd prefer doing something else, which was the truth. But, compared to other people, she had a literal need to work out - a purpose to do so.
"Are you strong enough yet to...go there?" Billie had broached that question on several occasions, on the first of which she was understandably sceptical of both it being a real place and the fact Riley had bonded with Lynn, a dead soul. But as the months went by, the number of sessions increased, and the sketches Riley drew depicting her dreams became more vivid, Billie eventually wasn't so sure what was real or not.
"Not by a long shot." Riley removed her grey suit jacket to reveal her biceps to Billie. They were interwoven with soft veins and splits across the peaks. In the six months she'd been bonded with Lynn, Riley had at least doubled in width. Her back muscles gently pressed against the knitted confines of her top as she sat comfortably. "I'm not even half the size I need to be."
"They're nineteen inches, right?" Billie remembered the last time Riley boasted like this. The psychiatrist wasn't bothered by it; at best, it intrigued her on a professional level.
"The last time I checked they were, yeah."
"That was a fortnight ago though" Lynn pointed out sharply. "They're probably bigger than that now."
"Remind me, why are you doing all this bodybuilding stuff again? There's an actual reason behind it, right?" Billie walked to the wide window and looked down at the street, an arm pressed against the glass. She did this to keep her eyes free from Riley's rippling arm. Billie was always attracted to power and her client's physique was a staple of that. The only problem on Billie's part was that she knew Riley was not only a hetero, but already infatuated with someone.
"Well, Lynn saw this place when we both died that I thought was Heaven, but turns out there's more to it than that." Riley crossed her leg, allowing the thick pillar of quad meat to ripple and twitch as the skin of her leg stroked against Billie's desk. "You know there are the nine rings of Hell, sometimes known as Dante's Inferno."
"Right?" Billie tried to follow along, but her mind was nipping at the feeling she was going to be confused. She rarely doubted her headaches, as if they were a sort of sixth sense unique to her.
"On the flipside, it turns out there are nine rings of Heaven as well – Gabriel's Paradise. One of these rings is unique to – get this – those who were bodybuilders in the world of the living." Riley saw Billie's confused expression and felt pitiful for her, but there was still more to tell. "There's a literal gateway to Gabriel's Paradise somewhere on Earth and you have to be physically strong enough to pass through it. Once on the other side, Lynn presumes our bond will break and we can move on individually."
"Ooooh!" Billie smiled softly at the idea behind everything involving Gabriel's Paradise. But—"Why haven't I heard of Gabriel's Paradise before?"
"Don't tell her too much, damn it" Lynn scolded. "God knows she might turn into some kind of Indiana Jones villain and go looking for it."
"Still asking myself that actually" Riley returned truthfully.
Billie smiled, returning to her desk. "And how have things been going with Dean?" Changing the subject quickly was a deliberate tactic employed by the psychiatrist to ensure her clients didn't always have the upper hand or were put off-guard with their responses.
Riley stammered, taken aback. "Yeah things have been okay so far."
"I wouldn't exactly say that with confidence, you know. Remember that time he asked to have se-" Lynn began before being interrupted by Riley.
"Shut up!"
Lynn chuckled.
Billie cocked a brow. "You have any more sketches to show? Any more vivid dreams?"
"More like nightmares" Lynn corrected.
Riley rummaged through her bag and pulled out a sketchbook, placing on Billie's desk with a dull thud. Admittedly, Riley had hoped Billie wouldn't have asked about the sketches this time round because Lynn was right: the sketches were nightmarish in nature; drawn and shaded in such a way that even the lightest colour was still somewhat dark.
"Let's see here." Billie flipped through the pages in the sketchbook, skimming past sketches she'd last examined; a portrait of Dean smiling, an obscure drawing of a random coffee cup, presumably to practice perspective, and a portrait of Tess.
Then Billie saw the newly sketched and coloured portrait of a female and frowned slightly with worry. "Who's this?" She pushed the sketchbook back over to Riley open at the new drawing.
"Honestly, I don't know" Riley admitted, looking at the sketch carefully. The last time she'd looked at the picture, nothing was thought of the face, but now a knot formed in her stomach.
Billie was unconvinced. "She must mean something to you, if you've put the extra effort into the colouring, something you don't normally do with your sketches."
As hard as it was for her to do otherwise, Riley knew Billie was right.
"What part of 'I don't know' didn't she get?" Lynn complained.
The female's portrait was meticulously drawn, with every significant detail put on display; the red and violet hair coupled with the heterochromia red and purple eyes, and the brisk smile. Whomever this woman was, her neck was thick and wide like a baby bull's, as was the rest of what had been drawn of her, as if to suggest she was of muscular build.
"I can assure you, I have no idea who she is." Between Lynn's annoying quips and Billie's pressing of the current issue, Riley was becoming increasingly irate.
"Can we stop talking about her now?" For the first time in the six months she'd been bonded with Riley, Lynn was genuinely fearful. This nameless woman in the portrait, whomever she was, made the ghoul jittery. "Please?"
Riley noticed Lynn's sudden change in character when the nameless woman was mentioned and paid attention to it. After all, if someone like her could scare even the dead, it wouldn't take much to think what she could do to the living.
Billie saw Riley was uneasy and pulled the sketchbook back over. "Sorry." Perhaps Billie had gone too far just this one time.
"I told you this was a bad idea, but no, you had to prove me wrong and now look at you." Lynn groaned.
Riley barred her teeth in rage, clenching her meaty fist, slamming into the desk in a blind fury. "You're no fucking better, you know. Always thinking because you're dead and seen things I haven't, you're the one who's fucking right all the time."
Billie offered a supportive hand to Riley, grasping the blonde's hand tightly over the desk. "Riley!"
Riley blinked, looking at Billie with a deadpan expression before realisation hit her. "Did... did I flip out again?"
Billie let out a sigh of relief, leaning back on her chair. "Barely. But you were pretty pissed off at Lynn about something."
Riley fell silent, guiltily pulling her head down to the floor. "Sorry."
"Don't be. Just... ignore Lynn if you have to."
Riley cocked her head slightly with bugging eyes to suggest her offence to Billie's suggestion. "Ignore her? Have you been paying any attention for the last six months, or just letting me indulge in my apparent madness before prescribing mental pills and putting me in a fucking strait jacket?"
Billie mentally took a step back to assess what she said. A big mistake on her part. "No, I didn't mean that. -I"
"I can't just block her out! She is me! I am her!" Riley fought the anguish boiling within; holding back the tears of distrust. She felt she'd been lied to for months. Nobody would be able to understand what she was going through. "You stupid, inconsiderate slag!"
"RILEY!" Lynn's voice was at its loudest; bursting through the mental barrier between her and Riley so violently that it made the blonde's nose bleed.
She heaved a breath, looking around for a moment to recollect her awareness. Riley never meant to burst out at Billie like that, and they both knew it, but between the discussion about the nameless woman and Lynn's deliberate attempts to annoy her, she was bound to snap at some point.
"I'd like to go home now" she said softly, wiping the stream of blood from her nose. In fact, without properly seeking Billie's approval, Riley did just that, scarpering to the door in a flash, leaving the sketchbook at Billie's desk.

Sometime later, Billie returned home with Riley's sketchbook, sat by the fire with a glass of wine. She flicked through the sketches again, looking at them in greater detail.
The sketch of Lynn was a standout for that moment. She had her hair loose and drawn over her wide back, smiling in such a way that her dimples showed.
The second sketch was a simple stone archway, presumably leading to Gabriel's Paradise.
Then the third, worrisome drawing: the nameless woman with the red and purple hair. Billie knew this woman meant something to Riley. But the sheer sense of panic that came from just talking about the woman suggested her existence couldn't possibly spell anything good for Riley.

[Amnoartist]

Chapter 3: From Shadow
     

    The punch came fast and quick, connecting with his lower jaw. He spat blood as the chains keeping him in place rattled, hurting his wrists.

    "I could do this all day, chum" the bruiser declared with a sadistic laugh, clenching his fist again and drawing his arm back, holding it in place behind his ears.

    The beaten man managed to smile, for what little good it did him. "I bet you could."

    Another punch - somewhat harder this time; enough to make the chained man jerk slightly. He looked down at his chest, gazing worriedly at his blood-stained pectorals, and then looked lower still at the stone cold concrete his torn shirt laid on.

    "Think yer smart, eh?" The bruiser grabbed his victim by the hair, yanking his neck back so quickly a muscle in it was pulled. The attacker was bald and dressed in a black leather jacket like most hard men would typically wear, staring into his sufferer's eyes. "Fuckin' cunt."

    The victim himself had brown hair that was understandably dishevelled and matted with sweat that trickled down the length of his bare bruised back.

    "That's no way to talk about yourself" he joked.

    The bruiser growled pulling his arm back to punch again, but—

    "That's enough, Jim" the female called out from... nowhere it seemed. Her voice was carried everywhere within the cold darkness of the abattoir, possessing an unnatural air of sensuality that filled Jim and his victim's bones with an emotion equal parts fear and desire. "I'll take over from here."

    Jim stepped away to the guard the sliding door where two corpses laid out front, covered in blood and holes in their chest, two spent shotgun shells by their sides. Jim pulled out a cigarette and lit it using a match he then dumped carelessly next to one of the corpses.

    The abattoir might've been pitch-black from the night darkness, but the chained man could still see from his eyes adjusting to what little light there was, and saw little save for the lone table at the side. Worse yet, he saw no one. So whose voice did he hear?

    "I understand" the female said softly, her sultry voice echoing through the air, sending chills down the beaten man's spine. "Sometimes you just have to ask nicely. Don't you, James?"

    James' heart dropped. How did this voice – whoever it was – know him? He didn't even know Jim!

    "So I'll do just that." The voice was more sultry this time, obviously deliberate in an attempt to make James' emotions conflict with reason. "Where. Is. Riley?"

    "I don't know!" James didn't know many times he'd need to tell the truth. A hundred? A thousand? It wouldn't matter; he wasn't going anywhere even if his words were to be believed, truth or not. "I don't know anyone by that name!"

    James jerked in fear as a loud beastly roar filled the room from where the voice came, lights flickered on and off uncontrollably, and the walls split violently to form cracks so wide, one could fit their whole finger in, reaching out to James before stopping just a few inches from his shoulders.

    "Do not fuck with me!" The woman's voice had lost its sultriness, replaced with something far more menacing and ethereal. "You were the one to examine her corpse."

    "Why the fuck do you care so much about a fucking dead chick, anyway!" James' chains rattled as he frantically, vainly tried to pull himself free.

    The woman sighed, her voice back to its sultry beauty, and then, after a moment of tense silence—

    Steps gentle yet echoey, she stepped out just enough to show her face, hair and rippling torso covered by an open-chested black top, revealing herself from the corner James could've sworn was empty the last he looked.

    The woman's hair was black and purple, strewn in long feathery ends across her shoulders, bolstered by the menacing yet equally ravishing blue and violet heterochromia eyes.

    But perhaps the most startling feature of note was the large scar running across her throat, as if it had once been slashed.

    She then moved up to James to reveal even more of her appearance. The long black military boots and brown trousers from which one could see the bulging protrudes of her upper thighs, and the gun belt strapped across her waist.

     Coming to a halt face-to-face with him, the sensual beauty stroked James' cheek with a smile. "Oh, if only you knew."

    Her phone buzzed, ending the tense moment. Groaning, she put the phone to her ear knowing exactly who the caller was. They always did seem to have impeccable timing about such things. "Yeah?"

    "Any luck, agent Ashford?" The voice on the other end was sinister, synthetically created to hide the caller's identity.

    Brittany hesitated, glancing at Jim for help, but he knew none could be offered from him. "No, not yet. But if you just let me integrate--"

    "No! No integrating with Diamonde." the voice was stern, cruelly demanding. Brittany's face scrunched up at her being scolded. She always liked it when she integrated with Diamonde, her bonded soul. But—"You remember what happened the last time, don't you?"

    Brittany flashed back to that particular night, remembering the bloodied fists, inhuman mass and trail of death she wrecked in her uncontrollable rage from being linked to Diamonde.

    "But--"

    "Brittany!" The voice roared through the phone; so loudly, there was a brief moment of feedback that stung the agent's ear.

    "What's to happen with him, then?" Brittany inquired irately, referring to the weakened James. She scooped a  thin streak of his blood from his chin with her finger and licked it dry, offering him a sadistically sultry wink.

    "You already know if he's lying or not" the voice stated matter-of-factly, "so deal with him as you see fit. But do it cleanly."

    The call ended.

    Brittany sighed, tucked the phone back into her pocket before reaching for her forehead with a hand, rubbing it gently.

    "So what's the plan, boss?" Jim tossed his cigarette down a small drain as his boot scuffed on the ground, looking at James. "What's we doin' wit' this shit stain?"

    Brittany smirked at James. She could think of so many things that could be done to the so-called 'shit stain' to help dispose of him, most of which wouldn't be clean like her boss wanted. "What indeed." She pulled out her m1911 and waved it around for a moment, knowing full well it was both loaded and the safety was off.

    James flinched as the weapon was placed to his head, whimpered softly. Piss trickled down his leg he was so frightened, insistent that this was his last moment; that by bullet was his death.

    Brittany chuckled, pulling the gun away to holster it, and then looked at the gathering of urine at James' bare foot. "Relax. Death by gunshot is so overrated." Admittedly, she felt a flicker of pity within her gut for the poor chained soul, only because she expected better from someone so masculine. "If I was going to kill you, it wouldn't be that way."

    If she was going to kill him? James' heart was filled with hope possibly from Brittany's words; a gentle thankful smile crept across his mouth. "You'll let me go?"

    Jim grabbed Brittany by the arm, pulling her aside to converse more privately. "You know they don't like loose ends." He glanced at James before eyeballing the shotgun on the table. "Let me end him here, now."

    Brittany scoffed, rolling up her sleeves to reveal the forearms underneath thick as a brick, a network of veins gently layered over them. "Leave him to me – when I'm finished, he's gonna beg for death."

    Jim nodded, though some hesitation was presented in his eyes. He knew it was best to just agree on whatever Brittany idea put forward, knowing all too well what could happen, what she could do if he opposed her.

    Her steps rhythmical to the excited beat of her heart, Brittany moved up to James invading what little personal space he had with her wide chest; boobs and pecs on all their bountiful, muscular splendiferous display.

    "What are you doing?" James somehow knew whatever Brittany had planned to do wasn't going to do. That said, anything either she or Jim had done beforehand was anything but that.

    "Give you one last moment of pleasure." Brittany moved in on James and locked lips with him, filling the victimised man with an unparalleled sense of lust; their tongues coiled round one another, bonded with saliva. James found it hard to believe he was drawn by Brittany even though she was his captor.

    And then James felt it; the sensation of shrinking, shrivelling up and growing thinner as Brittany's body contradicted it by growing wider and fuller. In essence, she was stealing his muscles and strength to transfer it to her own, already-larger frame; in small visible pulls her trousers stretched outward with growth, fabric tugging this way and that to vainly contain the muscles.

    Still holding the literally breath-taking kiss, the agent moaned softly in equal parts a pleasurable response to her expansion and to the surprising flair that came from James' kiss. How fitting that though it was his last, it was also his best. He though, obviously didn't share the same sentiment; the muscle that was formerly on his frame had been so greedily absorbed at this point, he was more bone than flesh, more dead than alive. But Brittany kept the kiss going, pulling his head in so close their cheeks touched.

    Sooner or later, James had been so physically shrunken and absorbed his wrists slipped free from the chains keeping him in place, allowing him to fall pathetically to his knees, gazing up at the woman who'd just stole his muscles. "How?" Even his voice was frail and pathetic.

    Brittany knelt down next to him with a chuckle, her trousers now so visibly strained, that their seams suddenly burst at the outer thigh to expose the muscles underneath, so defined they could very well rival those of a Mr Olympia. "Isn't that the question of the day?" She patted him on the cheek mockingly.

    "What do we do with him now, then?" Jim was apathetic towards what just occurred, having seen it take place a couple of times before now. Not wanting to be a victim of it himself was the prime reason why he always agreed with Brittany.

    She handed him her gun. "Make it quick."

    Outside, Brittany looked up at the stars. She always liked the idea of travelling them, of being an astronaut. That all obviously changed, but there was still a flicker of her subsequent, less sadistic humanity in her somewhere.

    She looked down at the pill in her hand; a generically white circular capsule. Hatred filled her each time the need to take one approached, but suppressing Diamonde was a love-hate relationship; Brittany loved her for what she could do, but that itself could get out of hand very easily.

With a sigh she popped the pill down her throat.

The gunshot went off in sync with the batting of her eyelids.

[Amnoartist]

Chapter 4

"How'd it go?"

Tess's voice was serene; soft and held an unusual air of tranquility. Her wisps of brown hair stretched across her back, she turned to Riley who closed the door upon her arrival.

"You know; the usual" was her response, dropping onto the couch with an apathetic sigh, and then turned the TV on. "I asked Lynn to play along this time – again. She agreed, but things got outta hand pretty quickly." The room was dimly lit, painfully darkened by the night sky; its only release was from the constant flash of colour from the TV. "And I left my damn sketchbook at Billie's office."

"She's always one for tricking you, isn't she?" Tess quipped, referring to Lynn. Tess stood over the stove cooking some kind of meal, dressed in a checked blouse and skinny black jeans. The blouse's top button had been undone to help the girl cool off a bit from having stood over the cooking meat for so long.

Riley turned away looking out the window with her leg crossed. "I guess" she replied disinterestedly.

A neon sign flashed below the window reading 'Kayla's Residences.' The girls' humble abode wasn't the greatest. That wasn't to say it was bad either; they just didn't have enough money between them for a better place. Between Tess's job as a supermarket assistant and Riley being unemployed – for obvious reasons – they only had enough to last each month. Hopefully their situation would improve at some point.

"I didn't trick you." Lynn's ensuing smirk from within the mirror's glass would've been a tad unsettling to those who could actually see it, see her, but Riley knew it as a worthless expression. Lynn couldn't do anything to harm her, save for hurl the occasional demeaning term, which was both ironic and contradictory to the fact she was brought back to life by her, not vice-versa. "You're just gullible."

"That doesn't change things." Riley offered a cold, hard stare at the muscular ghoul before her, taking in her every jutting inch of she-beef; the pumpkin'd, striated deltoids level with her cheeks, the brick thick abdominals screaming for release from her gut flanked by cobbled, uneven obliques. Lower, a prominent Adonis belt showed itself boastfully ,reinforced by the full wide bulky weight of her protruding quads and calves.

Tess stopped to look at Riley anxiously, watching her talk into the mirror nonchalantly about how someone ought to be more upright, now that they'd been with her for quite some time now.

Eventually Riley noticed Tess's figure standing by her side and looked shamefully at her. "Sorry, that won't happen again."

Tess tutted then folded her arms, moving a leg out to the side allowing its slender smooth skin to be graced by the pale moonlight. "I keep telling you - don't be like that" she said, her tone an equal blend of care and caution. "Don't shut me out."

Riley stopped to process things. She knew Tess was right. Riley had very little friends as it was, neglecting to let Tess in on things even every so often would only strain things between them.

Riley sighed deeply, her chest muscles spread outward with the motion to expand against the thick threads of her shirt, straining it. "Sorry. It's just... Lynn can be so unsupportive at times. She knows I'm doing all this" she pulled an arm up. Even in its casual, barely flexed posture the limb was close to bursting through her shirt, "for her – for the both of us – she knows I'm doing this so we can go our separate ways."

Tess stared at Riley's arm carefully, eyes glazed over lustfully at the powerful, fabric-ripping bulge. The brunette had been watching Riley's transformation over the last few months rather closely, imagining a not so reserved moment between them where she worshipped the muscles in all their thick, veiny and powerful glory before engaging in unrestrained intercourse. It was a shame though Riley was hetero, not to mention already taken up by someone else.

"Have faith" Tess said reassuringly, plopping down on the couch with a smile. It was at this point their figures were starkly contrasted with one another: Tess was a toothpick in comparison with the larger, stronger and flawlessly more beautiful Riley. Tess argued with herself on occasion that her flatmate's supernatural beauty was due in part to her bonding with Lynn, as if to say almost every aspect of the blonde was enhanced by it. "Maybe you and Lynn will get along at some point."

Riley smiled. She always did find a friend in Tess. It was one of the girl's defining qualities. It calmed Riley down, allowing her to forget the strenuous events from earlier in the day with Billie.

But the tranquillity, naturally, didn't last long.

"Man, can you imagine if Tess was buff too?" Lynn chuckled, striking a double bicep pose in the mirror. Even though Riley was large in her own right, the redhead was understandably ahead of her; larger, more defined, stronger, more disciplined, even for a ghost. "That's an ass I would happily tap then. That said I would even do her as she is. Real shame I'm dead though."

Riley rolled her eyes thinking about doing, saying, even shouting out something to get her mind off Lynn for just a moment. Sure, she could move away from the mirror to stop seeing her, but she was always there. "Say, um... did my package come while I was away?"
"Oh yeah!" Tess practically jumped off the couch then headed down the hall. Riley looked back into the mirror and glared at Lynn, who was mimicking a slapping motion, and considering the angle in which it was performed, looked as though she was slapping Lynn's butt as she passed.

"Hate you sometimes" Riley said softly. Although she had to admit it did was funny to look at.

"Don't get so worked up about it. You've been with me long enough to know this is how I act" Lynn professed matter-of-factly.

Riley sighed in defeat.

Soon, Tess returned with a generically large brown box filled to the brim. Riley noticed she struggled with carrying it and grimaced at the brunette's wobbly steps. Predictably, Tess lost her footing and proceeded to fall forward, sending the box flying upward toward the ceiling fan. Barely thinking, Riley jumped out of the couch and grabbed Tess by the waist in one hand before she would otherwise land face-first on the floor, snatching the box in the other without spilling its contents.

Tess sighed deeply overcome with delight in the fact she'd been saved by Riley. But then it suddenly clicked. "How did you – you've never been that fast before."

Riley was still processing what happened herself, taking a brief moment to exchange glances between Tess and the box before a grin crept along her lips. "Woah! What the hell was that?" It was like that cafeteria scene in the first Tobey Maguire Spider-Man movie. She turned to the mirror for Lynn to offer her word on what happened The redhead simply stared on dumbfounded. But Riley felt there was more to it than what was being let on.

Tess took advantage of Riley's staring into the mirror by examining the blonde's large bosom and thick pecs trying to shred their way through her blouse. Tess had never been this close to Riley before and sought to exploit that by moving in to kiss, but—

"What're you doing?" Riley moved her head away gently, offering a gentle laugh, watching Tess's puckered lips edge in closer before reason took hold of the brunette once again. She looked at Riley awkwardly for a moment, rubbing her neck.

"Err... sorry about that" Tess said, watching Riley gently pull away from her, still holding the smile.

"It's alright."

Understandably, there was a moment of awkward silence between the girls; Tess stood rubbing her arm, a leg crossed over the other as she bit her lip, Riley blindly looked across the apartment at anything before looking into the mirror again to see Lynn's shocked expression.

Riley knelt over the box and opened it hoping doing so would diffuse the awkwardness that still hung thick in the air. Luckily, it did. She plunged her hand in and pulled out a large tub of protein mix. "Ah, good; it's all in perfect order."

Tess did the same as Riley, producing a glitzy bikini top and bottoms from deep in the box. She gulped, imagining Riley in the outfit at that moment posing and strutting like being on a catwalk. "You bought this too?"

Riley offered a soft laugh, taking the bikini from Tess's lusty clutches. "Yeah, just for some, err... practicing."

Lynn chuckled knowing the 'practicing' Riley referred to was in fact inference to a potential private moment with her boyfriend Dean in the future. "Suuure."

Riley unfurled the posing suit from its bubble wrapping, eyes glazed over excitedly over seeing it properly for the first time in the two weeks it took between designing, sizing, ordering and delivering what she later considered to be a masterpiece.

Finally the bikini was revealed in all its glory; sparkling golden sequins with streaks of silver running across the bottom's borderline. The longer Riley looked at it, the more she wanted to just dart into the gym at the end of the hall, jump into it and pose privately.

"It's gorgeous!" Tess smiled, leaning forward to trace her fingers across the bikini top gently, copping a gentle squeeze of Riley's arm casually bulging to the point where a small tear formed at the sleeve.

"Easy there" she said with a smile. Admittedly, the blonde was still processing what just happened only a few moments ago. She didn't know what to feel about Tess being so open.

The brunette pulled back abruptly, shame filling her over what just happened.

Riley noticed this and felt pitiful towards her. "You like 'em, huh?"

Tess simply nodded.

Riley responded with a deep sigh. She knew Tess was aware of her sexual inclination but the least she could do was let the brunette be indulged in some fashion. Rolling her sleeve up, the blonde permitted Tess the one-time opportunity to feel her arm in all its magnificence, watching her grope the hard mound of flesh that was her bicep like it was a coveted item; the last in its existence.

"It's so hard" she said, tracing her delicate fingers across the pencil-thick pulsing veins. By comparison, Riley's bicep must've been hard as rock. "How is that--" Tess suddenly stopped, remembering her presumption that everything about Riley had been improved from her bonding with Lynn. That begged the question: what would sex be like?

The brunette moved her hand further up Riley's arm, closer to the jutting tricep with the distinctive horseshoe shape etched into juxtaposed smooth flesh. But that was when Riley pulled away. She couldn't deny the sense of enjoyment that came from Tess worshipping her. On an emotional level though, the blonde powerhouse felt indifferent; no butterflies in her stomach.

"You know I don't have any particular feelings for you, right?" Riley knew her words were harsh, yet there was no other way of exacting them without being as forward as she needed to.

Tess pulled her head away dejectedly, her gut filled with some kind of emotion similar to heartache. Obviously she knew Riley was hetero, but to actually hear words come from her that cemented that fact – it was the worst kind of pain.

"But I know someone who does" Riley said.

Those words grabbed Tess's attention; she turned her head back round with a cocked brow to her burgeoning friend motioning to the mirror, to Riley and Tess's reflection. "I don't understand. Are you implying I love myself?"

Riley scoffed playfully. She forgot Tess couldn't see her 'other half,' so to speak. "No. I'm talking about Lynn." Riley smirked. "She finds you quite attractive."

"What you doing?" Lynn called out. Even though death had taken her, she could somehow feel butterflies take hold of her. Riley wasn't doing what the ghoul thought she was doing, was she?"

Riley offered an expression into the mirror that suggested 'trust me.'

"Lynn likes me?" Tess didn't know what to think. To go from leaning in to kiss Riley to understanding how a dead person could have feelings for her was quite the jump. "How does – how will that work?"

"Beats me" Riley admitted. She held back a shrug. Admittedly, she didn't expect to get this far with her idea. She rested a hand on Tess's shoulder. "But have faith."

Tess smiled.

[Amnoartist]

Chapter 5: Devilish Intent

The Humvee pulled into the underground carpark in one swift turn, its tyres screeched as the vehicle fishtailed round the corner past the security gate. Stalling for a moment as it came to a sudden stop, the engine purred before it disengaged. The door swung open to reveal Brittany, seemingly agitated as she pulled out of the vehicle, its metallic frame buckling under her weight.

Stood firmly, the Circle's best agent heaved a breath, tugged at the left sleeve of her taut black camo military shirt, a lone bead sweat trickled down her right eye. She'd never been this nervous – this tense – before, even after her transformation months prior, yet she had good reason to be. She failed to find Riley – wherever she was – and failure in the Circle wasn't an option.

The agent walked through the carpark as calm as possible, ceaselessly clenched and unclenched her fists as a method of safety netting, the respective muscles and firm tendons pulled under her smooth, sweaty skin. She endeavoured for calmness, but how could such a thing have been sought when she was called upon by the Circle's head?

Brittany's earpiece crackled softly in her ear before someone with a synthetically crafted voice spoke – a familiar, always welcomed voice: "You'll be fine. You're far too valuable for her to kill you." Despite the words just spoken, this person close to Brittany retained a voice so sweet that the agent's legs shook slightly. Or maybe the fear was just so unbearable now.

"You heard what happened to the last person who failed her, right?" Brittany pulled back a door that led upstairs into the main building – the Circle's headquarters that was under a completely different name to act as a front, a façade – a tall silver-framed tower with a sharp, pointed roof. "Burst into smithereens at the click of a finger."

"The last person who failed her didn't have your particular...traits" the voice reminded. They sighed as Brittany pulled open another door which headed to the heavily guarded main hall. The security guards had guns and Kevlar armour with the Circle's infamous crest on the shoulder. The Circle, whoever they were, or whatever it was, certainly didn't mess around. "They should be so lucky as to be like you."

Brittany scoffed whilst she pressed the button on the nearby elevator, going all the way up to the top – the twentieth floor. She found a sense of humour in her friend's words and always did. "Nobody would want to be like me."

Her watch beeped, indicating it was time to dose up on her suppression pills. After a deep sigh, she reached into the back pocket of her khakis, pulled out and opened an inconspicuous pill bottle, and knocked back two pills. The effects were almost instantaneous, accompanied by a quick jolt and shiver. If she had stopped to look into the small mirror by her side beforehand, she would've noticed her left eye had changed colour back to two blues. The pills helped the iris in question back to her normal heterochromia blue and purple.

"You know there are people who are." The friend always felt pitiful towards Brittany since she found herself to be in quite the rare predicament. "Other people who are--"

"Possessed, I know!" Brittany snapped. Her foot crossed the elevator's threshold. Her neck muscles flared with the rage-fuelled response that just flew out her mouth. She was both sorry and not sorry. Sorry because she didn't mean to say that so cruelly, not sorry because she hated to be reminded on a daily basis she was different from other folks. But the anger still lingered. "It's bad enough I know I'm controlled. I don't fucking need the constant reminder!"

The elevator door closed in sync with Brittany's agitated sigh. She was sorry for what was said, but knew she couldn't apologise so easily or so soon. It was just the fear from what was to come: it took hold of her much more than she could handle.

"Sorry" Her voice was solemn and quiet. But her words were met with silence. She'd pushed her friend – seemingly her only one at that – aside over something trivial. "Fuck."

---

The elevator pinged open and revealed a long narrow hall, its wooden walls varnished and adorned with paintings of the same person: a young girl seemingly no older than sixteen with a firm, calculating stare. Each painting held true to a theme of some sort – the girl always wore red.

At the end of the hall was a desk, seated at which a short female assistant was named Gina. Brittany approached and stood over her. A large menacing shadow cast over the smaller woman for a moment before she looked up.

"Ah Brittany." Gina's voice held an air of disappointment, as if even she knew Brittany failed her task. The woman gestured towards the large metal door which led into the aforementioned girl's office. "Miss Ferr is waiting for you."

Nervousness still clung to her, the agent approached the steel door slowly and stared at it, wondered if she would ever come out again – she didn't quite fancy sharing the same fate as the last person who failed.

Her courage gathered after a brief moment of contemplation, the brutish woman reached for the door's handle, only to be taken aback by its opening on its own as if powered by magic. The frame groaned in such a way that it suggested the door might need a spruce up with oil. At any rate, Brittany's fear only seemed to swell upon witnessing the magical occurrence. Deep inside, she wanted to tuck tail and run, but knew she was being watched.

Her breath heaved; she entered the office slowly, and listened to the door close behind her with a definitive clink.

---

Brittany's heart pounded in tandem with her steps as she move across the floor, headed firmly to the large desk a girl stood behind facing out to the city below, her long and curvaceous legs laid bare for those who approached from behind, a hint of muscle tone present on them. She had her left hand pressed against the window, and in her right a circular glass filled with wine – red like the dress she wore.

Brittany clocked two Rottweilers violently feasting on a man by the girl's side, chomping at different torn limbs. Each bite they took exposed more flesh, their significant overbites exposing the razor sharp teeth over their blood-drenched jowls. Owing to what he wore, the man appeared to be the chef – or had been.

In an effort to turn away from the ghastly scene, Brittany looked at the name plate on the desk that read 'Lucy Ferr.' She could still hear the dogs greedily munch on the flesh though; violent tears into the skin and bone until a leg sickeningly pulled free from the corpse, prompting the hounds into fighting over it.

Lucy saw Brittany's shocked expression through the mirror and sipped from her glass, the dogs' growls and barks of aggression a song to her ears. A finger sternly pointed to the corpse, she spoke: "He didn't cook the pheasant well enough."

Turned to her, Lucy sat on her chair and gestured for Brittany to do the same, but the agent wasn't so sure.  Maybe it was a trap – maybe the dogs were starved enough to eat one more person, big as her!

Lucy noticed Brittany's fear and smirked. "Don't worry; they've had their fill for the day. Now..." She slammed her hand down on the desk hard, accompanied by a brisk ripple of thick forearm sinew. "Sit!"

Brittany did ask commanded, perched squarely on the chair in front of her. She couldn't believe someone this young was actually frightening her to the point of having to clench her bowels to keep her piss in. But then, this wasn't just anyone.

"Well, you obviously failed. So some kind of punishment ought to be dealt." Lucy leaned back on the chair, her long raven hair draped and blended in with its leather. Lucy felt Brittany's heart plunge in fear; she saw her face turn chalk white in despair of the unknown.

Brittany's fear was so overpowering that speech and movement were now alien to her. Stiff as a tree, all she could do was listen. And that was something she didn't quite fancy.

"But you're far too valuable for me to kill you." Lucy noted the sudden change in Brittany's expression; like a swell of hope had filled her. Perhaps her friend was right after all – the friend she shut out. Despite this ray of hope, Brittany remained silent. "You know just how valuable this Riley is to the Circle's collective efforts."

The red-dressed girl pressed a button on the underside of her desk and the 360˚ holographic display of a stone arch – the entryway to Gabriel's Paradise - was revealed alongside one of Riley.

"She just doesn't know where to look for the entrance – the key – to Gabriel's Paradise, does she?" Lucy couldn't help but laugh; her supernaturally delicately toned chortle filled her office and Brittany's ears. "Hell, she still doesn't even know who she is."

Brittany was confused. Clearly she wasn't called up to be punished – or just outright killed – so where did Lucy's intentions lie for her?

Lucy leaned in close to Brittany once again and smelled the fear practically ooze from her. She always found a sense of thrill in being someone this unexpectedly powerful – at least from the mortals' point-of-view. She could just there, watch and listen to their minds warp into mush over the confusion on how someone so young could be so evil and powerful.

"One of our other agents has tracked the girl to a small town down south." Lucy chuckled at those words for some reason, much to Brittany's blatant confusion. "Obtain that information from them and shadow her everyday appointments until the time is right. I need you to do it because her "other half" could prove meddlesome."

Brittany nodded in understanding of her mission.

"But fail this time and..." Lucy glanced down at her Rottweilers sat by the now bone-bare corpse, blood drenching their jaws. "I'll be sure to have you join him."

A sinister grin flashed from her lips, filling Brittany with dread once more before she pulled herself up to leave with shaky legs.


AN: And I bet you thought Brittany was the villain. Any idea who Lucy truly is? You just have to read between the lines, so to speak – it's there. Sorry there isn't a lot of muscle reference here, but that wasn't really the goal with this chapter. When part six comes -whenever I'm in the Possessed mood again - that stuff should pick up.

[Amnoartist]

Chapter 6: The Trouble with Hypnotism

"Back to the monthly check-up with the babe that is Billie, eh?" Lynn chuckled since she knew her statement would in some fashion irk Riley. The blonde bombshell checked herself in a nearby mirror, making sure her appearance was spotless; flashing her pearly whites, straightening her blouse... "Boy, what I would do to her if I still had a body. Then again, Tess is quite the heart-stopper."

"Oh, shut up" Riley called back softly in spirited protest, making sure nobody who walked past heard her. Even after all those months of being "attached" to her, Riley still felt somewhat unsure and insecure about openly talking to Riley around other people – those she didn't know, at least – given they'd view her as psycho. "Please behave today." It almost felt like she disciplined a child.

Riley pulled the door open and entered Billie's office, surprised to find her desk empty. The small clock to the right mutedly tick-tocked in tandem with the blonde's approaching steps, moving closer to the window revealing the distant snow-capped mountains that stretched for miles. Billie's notes were still on her table, so she couldn't have gone far, if anywhere.

"Billie?" Riley was met with silence – an eerie uncomfortable silence. She didn't like it one bit.

"What, is she playing Hide 'n' Seek or something?" Lynn expected a response right there and then, but was met with silence as Riley picked up and sneaked a look at the notes on the desk, blatantly ignoring doctor-patient confidentiality between different people. "I know: let's go find her. That'd be fun." Silence again, much to the ghoul's dismay.

"That's against the law you know" came the familiar voice from across the room. Billie stood by the threshold to the smaller room in the corner, dressed in a purple sports bra and black joggings matted with sweat, her long blonde hair loose and draped over her back. She smiled.

Having gotten a fright from Billie's surprise entrance, Riley jumped back slightly and dropped the notes back onto the desk with a thud. "Oh! There you are."

Lynn groaned. "Damn bitch is creeping up on us. I'm supposed to be the ghost, not her."

Riley eyeballed Billie's arms and noted their pumped and swollen state. The larger blonde didn't know Billie worked out at all, so it came as a surprise to her that she looked so healthy. Sure, she wasn't as big as Riley, but progress was progress. There was a slight distinctive split across Billie's peak with a light layer of vascularity.

She reached for a towel that hanged on a nearby hook and started rubbing the copious amounts of sweat from her neck and arms, noticing Riley's observant stares. "Don't be so surprised. You're not the only chicks who works out around here."

"I'll say!" quipped Lynn.

Billie continued rubbing her sweat off as she traversed to her desk, to Riley's side, where the larger woman spoke. "So, uh... what did you have planned for us today? Just another basic "What I've been up to" kinda chat, or what?"

Billie's responding shake of her head outright surprised both Riley and Lynn. It obviously came as a surprise to them, but Billie had actually planned to shake things up a bit for a while. "I'm thinking we try something different."

"Does it involve touching those arms of hers?" Naturally, Billie's latest reveal drove Lynn craze in a sense. "I'd happily settle for her tits, but ya know... no body."

Despite the surprise, Riley was curious to see what her psychiatrist friend had to offer as a means of alternating things. Having said that, she couldn't deny the slight tinge of hesitation that boiled within her. "Define 'something different'."

Billie certainly didn't waste her time. Yes, she was curious to see if her new plan would work, but she also had other clients to attend to – even if Riley was the most interesting of them. She reached into her drawer and pulled out a watch, much to Riley's confusion. It seemed important to the moment at hand. "I was thinking something like hypnotism."

"Hyp-hypnotism?" Riley had to play Billie's words back in her head, not sure if she was joking or not. But the smaller woman's expression made it clear she was serious. "Why hypnotism?"

Why hypnotism, indeed? What sort of thing would that yield in Riley's long-term goal of knowing who she is? It all seemed strange and unconnected to her, but Billie was the one who held the answers.

"Well, for the last six months of our association with one another we've only been talking about you – you've only talked." Billie stopped for a moment to help Riley get her head straight, noticing the bulging babe tried to understand. "But with hypnotism, what if it's possible we can flip to the other side and let Lynn talk – literally – through you?"

"Oooh! This sounds interesting." If it were up to her, Lynn would outright agree to what Billie was proposing. But she was just a voice in someone's head, as dangerous as it sounded.

Riley frowned and turned away in apprehension, unsure if it was a good idea to go through with Billie's idea. What would happen exactly? Would Lynn just speak aloud through Riley's own lips, or would something else – something far more drastic – occur? "I dunno..." She was unsure, but at the same time couldn't deny the burning curiosity.

"Don't you dare say no" Lynn spoke, her words adamant. She seemed eager to at least try Billie's idea, obviously. But there seemed to be more to it than that, which Riley found to be true. "I've spent months being able to talk to only you, wrapped inside your head like a fucking cocoon. I've put up with your shit as much as you have mine. You owe me this."

As much as Riley hated to admit it, Lynn was right. So much time was spent trying to figure out who Riley was that discovering more about Lynn was side-lined. After all, it was her who saw what Gabriel's Paradise actually looked like. With Billie's help, more could be learned about it.

Riley sighed reluctantly. "What do I have to do?"

Billie smiled.

///

Riley leaned back on the psychiatrist's chair, felt her thick back press against the black leather that groaned in protest as she involuntarily flexed, her legs resting squarely at the edge near Billie, who was now dressed professionally and sat on a smaller chair with a notepad and the watch.

"Better not be some devilish chant involved with this" Lynn argued softly. Even though hesitation now creeped within her, she still felt excited about the prospect of the impending events.

"Okay, what you're gonna do is just time your breaths with the watch's ticking and clear your head." Billie knew while the steps seemed simple when put to words, it was likely going to be hard for Riley to actually perform. Most things in life were. But, she wouldn't let that deter her.

Clear your head. That was likely going to be hard for Riley to do, considering there was someone practically living in hers - someone who wanted to get out in a sense. She closed her eyes and began to slow her breathing, attempting to keep it in sync with the watch. It was harder to do, after all, but persistence was the key to this. Her muscles soon involuntarily began to flex in tandem with the slowed, quiet exhales, her meaty chest pushing outward against her jacket, slightly straining the stylish brown leather. She bit her lip...

"Good, you're doing well." Billie took notes, but not without taking extended glances at her patient's rippling arms pushing out slightly under her jacket, straining the jacket more and more. It was a sensual display in the making. The psychiatrist adjusted her collar...

Riley's eyes flashed open to reveal her green and blue heterochromia eyes blinking and twitching uncontrollably as if seizing up. Naturally, this concerned Billie enough to reach out to help, but— she leaned back and watched as the green eye changed to blue, making both the same colour. Soon after, Riley's hair followed suit, shifting into a cute red hue.

Then Billie realised at the last minute – when perhaps it was too late to stop. Riley hadn't given Lynn the opportunity to speak through her lips. It was something far different than that. Riley became Lynn in the flesh.
Lynn blinked for a moment as confusion suddenly flooded her, before she pulled herself up from the chair and stared directly at Billie who seemed to have frozen up with shock.

"Well, fuck." Lynn laughed, tracing her bulging arms with her pretty, dainty fingers through the use of her eyes. The laugh she gave was supernaturally cute. It felt strange to actually hear her voice for once as well. It was always like honey. "Ain't that some shit."

She turned to the nearby mirror and smiled knowingly. Billie turned too, but was confused. She didn't – couldn't see what Lynn did. The redhead waved into the mirror at---

"What the fuck happened?" cried out Riley .Not only had she become Lynn, but they'd also swapped their respective places in the worlds, making Riley the spectre. "Please tell me this is a fucking joke." Naturally, Riley hoped for their current positions to be temporary.

"It's a damn good one, I'll tell you that much." Lynn flexed into the mirror proudly, watching the sleeves of her leather jacket finally give way to reveal the thrumming biceps formerly underneath. "The things I could do with this body..."

She leaned closer to Billie and sensually placed a hand on her chest, feeling her heart race and respective muscles flex.

"You're hot, but..." Lynn pulled back and knowingly winked back into the mirror at the distressed Riley. "You're number two on my list of chicks to fuck."

Riley instantly knew what Lynn implied and vainly banged on the mirror, watching it warp from her side. It was humorous to watch for Lynn, but no fun for the blonde. "You stay away from Tess, you hear?"

"Don't worry, Ri. You're in what was once my position, so uh..." Lynn shot her fingers at the mirrors as if mimicking guns. "I'll make sure you get front row seats to the show." She headed for the door in a proud swaggering walk.

Riley punched the mirror again – still no difference. "You get back here right now! Lynn! Lynn!"


Author's Note: I'd been eager to write this chapter for a while now, so it was nice to see it finished. Was this what you expected when the hypnotism came into play – a complete role reversal, so to speak - or was it something else? The next chapter will likely just be straight up lesbian porn, if you're interested in that, look out for it! The question is: are the effects of the girls' changes permanent?

[sgsg69]

Well written, great twist..........but now that is Lynn is out, will there be any meaningful gains in size?!? Great story, can't wait for more. Kudos to you!!

[Amnoartist]

Chapter 7: Passion of the Fallen

Author's Note in Advance: Just a quick word letting you know this chapter might not be to everyone's liking, as it contains elements that might be offensive to some. That said, please go into reading this part with a relatively open mind.

Night rain burst through the skies, violently battering the jet black frame of the limo turning the corner, thunder gently rolling in the distance. There was a flash of lightning; quick, as always, but bore a level of intensity equal to the brunt of the storm itself. To Lucy, though, it was more than that. In a sense, it was more musical than the apparent discord it was otherwise known for.

The vehicle came to a halt outside a stretch of paved pathing leading to a set of stairs, which itself showed the way to the front door of a theatre hall; wide, tall and made of aged, scrabbled sandstone. To the stairs' left was a board, plastered on which was a poster of the evening's performance: a rendition of Passion of the Christ.

Lucy's butler – a brutishly large, bald man with broad shoulders named Pavel – opened the limo's door to let her out, taking her delicately by the hand whilst unfurling an umbrella. The girl grumbled and muttered something under her breath. As much as she liked the weather, she loathed getting wet. It was up to Pavel to ensure he didn't make the same mistakes as his unfortunate, drowned predecessor.

"Your seating arrangement has been made, ma'am." Pavel had a thick Russian accent that would be hard for most people to understand, but his mistress had over time gotten used to it. "Top floor, middle seat, with refreshments on tap."

Lucy expected nothing less than perfection, always ensured she had the best seats in-house, which, contrary to the public's preference, wasn't a front row seat from the bottom floor. She'd be next to the scummy, working-class plebs, then. At least there was a perpetual level of class when up high next to the richer peoples of society.

They entered the theatre, coming to a stop at the edge of the red carpet graced by beautifully tiled flooring. On the ceiling was a Da Vinci-inspired painting of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, which showed the serpent-like embodiment of Satan coiled round the branch of a tree.

Lucy smiled at the painting for a moment, just before the local Bishop – Bishop Murray - came from behind, dressed in a formal suit. He always found himself particularly drawn to Lucy, as if she had a supernatural sense of allure. Upon seeing him, she offered him her hand to kiss, revealing a ring.

"So glad you could join us, Miss Ferr," the Bishop said, leaning forward to kiss the ring the stunning girl offered to him. Truth be told, he panicked earlier in the fear she wouldn't turn up.

"Well, I am the theatre's longest supporting benefactor," she pointed out, shrugging as Pavel removed her outrageously striking coat to reveal the even more exquisite dress underneath. To say it took the Bishop and those around her by surprise was an understatement. "It'd be amiss of me to not show my face at an event such as this, especially when it is The Passion. In fact, it'd be almost sinful." She smiled.

Murray smiled at the young woman's humour. "That it may've been." He turned to the spiral staircase that led to the upper floors of the theatre, gesturing to them with his hand. "Shall we?"

///

Truth be told, Lucy never really liked The Passion – at least, not until the third act, at which point she was always on the edge of her seat with excitement. Even now she had her fingers dug deep into the seat's armrest, symbolizing her anticipation.

As much as she enjoyed watching an actor play out the suffering of Christ's incarnation, Lucy hated there was always a character missing from it all, and it was continuously the same one – the only one she had any real interest in. At any rate, watching the misery being re-enacted was cause enough for that disappointment to die out, albeit slowly. Even the fake bloodcurdling screams from the actor were music to the girl's ears; her panties moistening, she crossed her legs. With a quick glance, Pavel eyeballed the slightly discernible bulge of her right quad; smooth yet taut.

Lucy yawned. She was getting terribly bored with the show now, and could almost feel Pavel's eyes burn into her exposed quad. Teasing him, she flexed with a wink, before letting her leg drop evenly to meet the other. She forgot just how perverse she made him. But then, it was all her doing.

"I tire of this performance." The girl's words were stern and bore a sense of command that came from the tip of her tongue. And upon those words— the play stopped, as if all the performers suddenly froze. Even the audience fell silent. As Lucy rose from her chair, the watchers did too, at the same eerie pace and in sync with her own movements, as did the actors when they sought to return backstage, all controlled by some otherworldly force.

Pavel unfurled Lucy's coat and draped it over her back. "Where to now, ma'am?"

"Home," the girl responded softly.

///

Home: that was where the fires burned brightest for Lucy. That was to say, where her true passions lived.

She stared at the painting of the man with the moustache and smiled. How she missed him... Those six years of endless fun and games she had with him would probably not be repeated anytime soon with someone else. Those ideas she had, and the successes that came with them...

Taking a deep breath, she looked down at the book just below the painting that rested on the bookstand, carved from pure obsidian. There was a sense of mystery about the book, in a way. It had been used over the years – decades, almost a century old – and yet, it appeared unsullied, as if it was the first ever copy, which it was.

A delicate finger pressed over the book's cover, Lucy stroked the spine as her eyes read the title: Mein Kampf.

Looking up at the painting again, the girl reminisced certain, pleasing events with Hitler, before she turned to the painting at her left – that of Ivan the Terrible, before him, Vlad Tepes.

Lucy had so many memories involving these fine, charismatic men, all with their own bold visions of the future. The problem was, they just lacked. No – the problem was they were men. Lucy sought to change that. In fact, she was the change.

A muffled scream came from behind, near a door, bringing the girl out of her trance-like state.

"Oh yes, I forgot you were in there." She shook her head and groaned as her hand reached for a cat o' nine tails, grinning sadistically. "Thank you for reminding me."

The lights dimmed until the room faded to total darkness.

Author's Note 2: Yes, I deliberately fucked with everyone's anticipations by not writing the lesbian sex chapter straight away, as otherwise expected. Why? Well, honestly, you wouldn't expect something like that to happen in a horror movie, would you? Tension is deliberately added by spacing the scenes out a bit, right? I did that here, and wanted to go a bit deeper into Lucy's character. On that note - what connection do you think she has with Hitler, Ivan the Terrible and Prince Vlad Tepes. 10 Amno points for those who actually work it out.

[Amnoartist]

Chapter 8: Passion of the Living

The apartment block's neon sign buzzed ever vigorously, its amethyst hue flooding the soaked pavement after the storm that cracked earlier in the night, now birthing scenic, starlit skies – perhaps a sign of things to come.

The night had become silent; so much so that one could perchance hear the drop of a pin or the faintest of breaths. The silence, much like the clear skies, bode a sign – one that was of great concern to a particular individual.

The clock struck 9PM. Tess was worried – Riley should've gotten home from Billie's office a whole two hours ago. The storm that came earlier only heightened Tess's fear for her flatmate. Sure, she was buff, but that didn't make her superhuman. There wasn't much Lynn could do to help, either, was there?

Tess sighed. Riley was never like this. It wasn't the latest the girl had gone out, but it was the longest in which there was no direct contact from her. It didn't help that Tess's phone calls all went straight to the automated answering machine, meaning Riley's phone either was off or had died. Whatever the reason, Tess was being ripped apart slowly from the inside with fear.

"Come on, Ri. Where the fuck are you?" Tess tapped her foot off the tiled flooring as her nervous, jittering hand reached for the TV remote. She had to do something to get her mind off things, believing her fear amounted to nothing. Maybe Riley went for a bit of late-night shopping on the way home – they did need the groceries. No. No, that wasn't it. It couldn't have been.

Tess bit her lip as her hand was pulled back. Maybe TV wasn't such a good idea after all. Sweat greased the back of her neck as the swelling nervousness seized her insides; clasping her lungs to prevent her from breathing steadily, tightening around her gut to make her sick...

Shifting her gaze, she turned to the window and watched the condensation form round the glass with what little attention she had. A lone droplet of water delicately skimmed down until it reached the windowsill, gathering at the droplets that came before it. This all suggested the night was cold, and Tess could feel it herself in so many ways, one in particular unique to the female form; erect, her nipples jutted outward and pressed softly against the cotton confines of her bra. She would have acted on her apparent stimulation, if not for her nerve-wracking concern for Riley.

A rhythmic knocking came from the door when Tess believed things were at their worst, filling the girl with hope. But then, it could also have been the worst personified – what if something had happened to Riley over those last two hours and someone had arrived to break the news? The only person to tell would be Tess since Riley only knew her. Everything else about the girl's life before she had been returned to life was still a blank slate.

Tess opened the door slowly and with apprehension, hoping it wasn't the police having come to deliver news of Riley's death. Instead, however, a muscular, sea-blue eyed redhead girl was who she was greeted by, dressed in the same clothes Riley was when she left. Whoever this stranger was, they were certainly happy to see Tess. There was something oddly cute about the surprised mixed with confusion expression she revealed upon seeing her.

The redhead spoke, her voice possessing a supernaturally honeyed tone that from just her first sentence alone, made Tess weak at the knees. "Hey babe. Gonna let me in?" Tess took a moment to let the words sink in. The voice – how was it so beautiful and angelic? How could a sentence so simple make her so fascinated and enthralled – and spoken by a stranger no less!

But then Tess realised. This 'stranger' was by no means a stranger at all. In fact, it was someone she had longed to meet face-to-face for quite some time: Lynn. It was obvious it was her, in a sense. Riley had described and drawn her often enough in the past that Tess had shamelessly fallen into numerous wet dreams about her.

The question, though, was 'How?' How did Lynn come back to life? Was it permanent? Tess had hoped it to be, there was no doubting that. But if Lynn was alive, what exactly did that mean for Riley?
"Wh-where's Riley?" Tess's initial fear still hung over her, high like a persistent cloud. She couldn't deny this instantaneous attraction to the redhead before her, but Riley's life was no less important – they were equally important to Tess. She looked down the hallway in the hopes that the large blonde was nearby. There was no such luck, however.

"She's fine," Lynn responded in her ever seductive tone, edging in closer to the comparatively petite brunette so that a large shadow cast over her. Tess even found that to be attracting – and Lynn was barely trying. "A little occupied at the moment, but she'll be home soon," the redhead blatantly lied, her words oozing seduction beyond any man's wildest imagination.

Tess backed up slowly to allow the redhead entry into the apartment, trying her utmost to take in the living goddess that so effortlessly spoke, walked and breathed beyond compare. Tess lapped up Lynn's lie like a dog does water, believing it to be the truth. Of course, how could she know otherwise? It wasn't like she knew Lynn and Riley had their places swapped in existence.

Lynn glanced to her right at the mirror and smirked conceitedly at Riley still trapped inside, who had her arms folded in contempt. Upon Lynn's travels from Billie's office back to the apartment, Riley had punched, kicked and charged into all the mirrors she'd come across, hoping to break free from the glassy bonds that kept her prisoner. But no luck came to her. Essentially, all she could do was bear witness to what Lynn planned to do with Tess. "You know, if I ever get my body back, you and I are gonna have a serious talk."

Riley had expected Lynn to response with a snarky comeback, but that wasn't the case. Doing that would reveal to Tess the fact that Lynn and Riley had switched up, and in doing that, Lynn's chance – perhaps her only one at that – of going at it with Tess would fall apart. Instead, Lynn's response was one that greatly irked Riley.

"You're cute." The redhead laid a delicate hand on Tess's chest, feeling her heart race so quickly that it was as though it retained a constant, almost monotonous beat.

The brunette's responding exhale was shallow, a carnal response to the larger girl's constant eroticism. Such a compliment as the one just made couldn't go without a response of its own, but there was no way it could match the same suggestive nature Lynn effortless exuded.

"Let's fuck," Lynn continued breathily, grabbing Tess by the crotch with reckless abandon. Even her touch was heavenly; Tess jerked slightly as her legs turned to jelly, succumbing to Lynn's unearthly splendour. She wanted to respond, to say something that would probably only boost Lynn's ego, but the smaller girl was too enraptured to even breathe evenly. "Hard," Lynn finished.

She scooped Lynn up by her feet and preceded to cradle-carry her into the bedroom, both girls offering equally cute giggles.

From within the glassy entrapment of the hallway mirror Riley watched with contempt. "Oh fuck..." Of course, she said that long before her natural instinct of curiosity kicked in, leaning slightly to get a better view of the upcoming events as Lynn gently kicked the door open to reveal Tess's large bed.

At least Lynn was right about one thing: that Riley would get front row seating to the show. Not that she had much of a choice in the matter.

///

Lynn didn't dance around her intentions, edging in on the eager Tess until their chests met, one soft with bountiful breast tissue, the other stone hard with rippling pec meat. They stared at one another for what seemed like forever, each flicker of ones eyelid deemed teasing to the other who watched, blue eyes magnetised to green; strength pulled towards beauty so closely until it was not unlike they had been welded together as a single entity.

Delicately, Lynn pulled Tess's blouse with the one hand at first, before deceiving the brunette by then taking the attire by both hands, endeavouring to rip it asunder, green eyes still drawn to the majestic, ethereal blues. The rips were slow, pulling outwards more and more to reveal the petite brunette's smooth, almost flawless skin and breasts; pert and erect like Lynn's own.

In due time Tess was left bare-chested, hands at her sides so Lynn could take in the fullness of her torso; the slightest hint of her hip bone, a belly button no bigger than the diameter of a one pence coin, and a sizeable, inches-deep cleavage Lynn was eager to bury her face into, among other things. Nervousness gripped Tess again. She was eager for a good time like her rippling paramour, but it was the first she'd been with anyone, man or woman. Lynn, however—

She pushed Tess backward, letting the mousey individual fall onto the duvet so her hair unfurled cutely in all its resplendent beauty. Scooting forward, Lynn straddled the woman until she came face-to-face with her, glutes pressed into her smooth stomach. "Just relax."

Relax. Tess knew that would be easier said than done – Lynn's voice was forever oozing its supernatural confidence, which proved to be a setback on Tess's behalf, who was otherwise eager to do what was asked of her by the personified beauty.

Lynn didn't dance around her intentions. Moving down a bit, her lips met Tess's breast, a calm exhale brushing against the pert nipple that beckoned to be sucked - and that it would be in due time. Tess's moan was sudden but expected; the cold slither of saliva from Lynn's smooth lips upon her nipple forced her to shudder with rapturous ecstasy, reaching out to grab the redhead's bulging arms for support. The teasing flex she offered in return that forced a single monstrous vein to rise to the surface of her shirt only drove Tess into moaning once more, slightly louder.

Moving down once again, Lynn tugged forcibly at Tess's trousers, yanking them little by little off her comparably dainty legs until almost literally torn free, revealing the raptured woman to be nearly naked – only her socks and frilly underwear saved her from that fate – for now. Lynn peeled the brunette's socks off one by one and then, as if with little care, pulled one leg up to suck on her toes, making sure to offer the cutest smile imaginable in response to her paramour's tickle induced giggles and moans.

Despite the rapturous lust boiling within, Tess mustered the willpower to reach out at Lynn's chest with a shaking hand, urging the redhead to reveal her own torso in all its powerful, incomparable seductiveness. She complied the only way she really knew how – her chest thrust outward, she released a beastly growl as her top burst from her chest almost instantaneously like confetti bursting out of a piñata, flying this way and that over the room, some strands of the fabric humorously landing on Tess's nipples.

Lynn wasn't done, however. Using her bare chest to her advantage, she flexed her pecs hard as she possibly could, initially moaning softly at the underlying thick tendons violently pressing against her skin before lust took over and the soft, delicate tones became louder, more carnal, veins bubbling to the surface of her chest. The display proved inviting to Tess, her fingers prodding the thickening meat with a finger, never managing to make a dent.

Growling sexually, Lynn's mouth soon loomed over the pearly white fabric of Tess's undies, edging in bit by bit until Tess felt the same fabric pull against her ass cheeks as Lynn proceeded to literally pull the underwear off with her teeth, like a dog pulling at rope. The ripping came faster with the panties than it did with the bra, slowly but surely revealing the bare tight flaps of Tess's pussy. It was this that Lynn almost worshipped; so long had it been since she'd last touched, smelled or fucked a pussy that it felt almost like an entirely new experience. But soon the knowledge from that experience oozed back into her mind like the saliva that still curved down Tess's breast. She knew there wouldn't be much need for the vibrator Tess reached for, if her fingers were fast enough.

"No, put that back." Lynn raised her hand slowly and presented her thumb and two fingers with a knowing grin "Let these do the job."

And the job they did. Tess's moans returned with renewed strength and loudness as she felt Lynn's fingers repeatedly agitate within the tightness of her pussy with varying speed – slow, moderate, fast, moderate, never becoming predictable in regards to speed or pattern, always unexpected. And soon enough, to add yet more variety, the cold wetness of her tongue gave more stimulation to Tess. Palms pressed against the headboard, she thrust her body upward in a fit of unparalleled ecstasy, and then reached with one hand to her pulsating jewel, close to orgasming, but eager to withhold it for the perfect moment.

Lynn's tongue was plunged deeper, bringing more lust and passion to both awakened women, sweat greasing the nape of her neck; Lynn's movements with her digits rekindled the fire within Tess, while her moans were cause enough to stir the thick-armed woman pleasing her. Lynn's muffled noises brought forth a need for Tess to move to the one side. It was almost too much for her.

Almost as if she could sense that, Lynn pulled up from Lynn, barely winded from her act. A light bulb of an idea formed, bringing a smile to her face. Looking from the mirror, Riley wasn't sure if she should be worried about Lynn's idea.

"I got an idea," the redhead whispered into Tess's ear seductively.

"Yeah?" Tess's interested was piqued.

Soon, the bed started creaking and its springs turned loose from the couple's fervent fucking. Pussy slapped against pussy as they shared in a chorus of grunts, moans and screams as they shifted into a tribbing postion, Tess somehow managing to move in on Lynn's gaping thigh to perversely lick its rippling massiveness, while the redhead held a deformed purple dildo in the grinding greatness of her pecs. Sweat pooled on the duvet to the point where it was more a mass of odorous black than beautiful white.

Lynn soon mirrored Tess, shifting her body to lick the length of her lover's leg from ankle to hip, sporadically offering gentle kisses along the way. As this occurred, Tess kneaded Lynn's meaty neck in slow, massage-like motions before moving down to her back where Riley's scar should've been, but somehow wasn't.

Soon after, the tribbing resumed, faster and more passionate than before...

///

It was over a whole four hours later. Laid in the sweat-patched duvet, Tess turned to the sleeping amazon she'd passionately screwed time and again, running a delicate finger over the dense back muscles that seemed to be bigger than earlier. Tess had never been fucked like that. In fact, she hadn't been fucked period, but there was something about what just occurred that made Tess think nobody could ever hope to match up to Lynn.

Tess glanced into the mirror and smiled at her sexed-out reflection, completely unware that a horrified Riley stared back at her from the other side. She'd watched it all: every lick, suck, slap, flex and trib – everything. She shook on the spot, hopeful that she wasn't forever destined to watch Lynn be as carnal in the future as she was now; hopeful that she could return to the world of the living, as she should be.

"Fuck me."



Author's Note: I'm looking back at this and thinking, "Did I write this? I mean, shit, I didn't think I could pull it off at all, let alone this well - provided it's actually good. Let me know what you guys think

[Amnoartist]

Chapter 9: A Game of Chess

"RILEY!"

The shriek from Tess was sudden and held an unmistakable flicker of worry in its tone. It compelled the sleeping blonde into action, clumsily rolling out of bed, landing face-first on the hard pine floor. A brilliant way to start off coming to her friend's aid. It wasn't often Riley had to do such a thing, so one could imagine her self-hate for failing to do it without embarrassing herself. Then she remembered—the previous night's events seared into her mind like a brand to the skin. If only she could forget them.

"What is it?"

Tess groaned. Her tone suggested she wasn't in as much trouble as the powerhouse blonde was led to believe, but that didn't mean there wasn't any. It could come in so many forms, shapes and sizes. "Come look."

Riley lazily soldiered on, the gentle pitter-patter of her bare feet a rhythm one could almost dance to. She wasn't even aware of the fact, but Tess' light blue top was draped over her back to hide the rippling back muscles underneath. A Mr Olympia would be jealous of them for sure, and no doubt plead the blonde to share her secrets.

Riley found Tess stood in the living room. Only, that was trivial compared to the other thing. The important thing was—

"Tess!" Riley couldn't stop herself from allowing even just the briefest of moments to gawk at her friend's larger frame. Muscles pressed tightly against the confines of the top she slept in, bare quad meat casually jutting out at the sides complimented by a dainty pair of black frilly panties. "What happened to you?"

"You tell me! The last thing I remember, I was having sex with who I can only assume was Lynn. When I woke up, I was...like this." Tess pulled her leg out in front and gave it a hard slap, compelling the respective muscles to flex and quiver. It was a little strange to observe, given Tess didn't have any posing experience. Riley wasn't one to show off either. "And now you're back to normal."

Riley's head nipped. So...it was all real? She really did transform into Lynn and...have sex with Tess? No, it couldn't be. Come to think of it, where was Lynn?

"If you ask me, I thought it was hot." Much to her surprise, Riley her ghostly companion had returned to the mirror and was casually sat in a fold-up chair drinking what appeared to be a mojito.  Where the hell did she get them from? "I was tossing dollar notes and everything."

"Did you have something to do with this?" As if she wasn't pissed off already with her body earlier being swapped for hers, Riley was of the mind that everything that could possibly go wrong was Lynn's fault. The drastic physical transformation Tess went through wasn't even warranted or desired—the psychological implications it would mean for her could be life-shattering. "I know you like Tess and buff—"

"Oh sure, blame the dead chick." Lynn rolled her eyes derisively. She knew Riley better than that. It just wasn't in Lynn's character to go do something that invasive and self-serving "I may have my motivations but I'm not gonna go out my way to see them through. Besides, if I did do that, I'd have to take control of you permanently."

That was Riley's fear. Just what Lynn was truly capable of was a harrowing mystery—one the blonde wasn't so keen to uncover.

"And we both know it only worked the first time because of that damned hypnotism Billie performed on you." It was hard to argue against Lynn's words. They made Riley think the body swap wouldn't have happened at all if she hadn't agreed to the hypnosis. Tess probably wouldn't be in her unfortunate circumstances either.

She didn't feel that way though.

Arguing with Lynn about the cause of Tess' growth prevented Riley from eyeballing the woman exploring her larger self all-too-keenly, running her fingers through thick veins, playfully squeezing her arms. The woman was starting to feel a little hot under the collar—

"She's enjoying it."

Riley was scared of what Lynn was capable of? No, it wasn't that anymore. Rather, it was what Tess could do. Granted, there was a smidgen of hope in the blonde's mind that nothing negative could come from all this sudden change, but one could only guess at this point.

Then Riley saw it from the corner of her eye. She was so caught up in trying to make heads or tails of Tess' transformation that it was pretty easy to miss—yet it stood out like a man in white in a flood of black. "Tess...did-did you dye your hair before I woke?"

"Finally, she notices it!" Lynn blurted out energetically, jumping out of the chair, the last remains of her mojito spilling on the dead realm's floor. "I wondered if I had to make a sign pointing."

Tess turned to the mirror. She should've paid more attention to the matter at hand, but her burgeoning shoulder muscles were just so titillating not to eye-fuck for at least a few seconds. Muscle fibres rolled and gyrated in unison with the flex that followed, pushing to the surface of her skin. Then she saw it: her hair. It was still her signature shade of raven black. Well, mostly. Much to the woman's surprise, a curious streak of red ran through her perfect mane of hair. It was almost identical to the shade of blood red Lynn had.

"Well shit, that's interesting." Tess chuckled as she played with the newfound streak of red like a child would a doll, oddly intrigued.

Riley didn't feel the same way though, for what might be 'interesting' to one person just might be worrying to another. One thing was for sure a fact in all this: Billie had some explaining to do.

///

Pavel didn't have much of a mind for chess; he thought it was too complicated and time-consuming—time he felt could've been better spent doing other things, like killing. That said, he wouldn't fault others for liking it, especially his employee Lucy. He stood by the door—being the good muscular goon that he was—watching the unnaturally beautiful raven-haired beau comfortably on a fine leather chair plan her next move: perhaps her Queen to B4 or her rook to C6. Either way, Pavel looked on in befuddlement.

He might not have had much of a mind for chess, but he did know it didn't involve one player casually talking to the empty chair on the other side of the board. As if that wasn't strange enough, however—

The bodiless opponent made their next move after what had to be a clear ten minutes of strategizing. A knight piece casually floated off the board before being placed next to Lucy's Bishop, taking her piece from the game. To say she was livid would be an understatement, but the young woman kept her cool and smiled.

"Good show, old chap. Can't say I expected that." Lucy damnably hated losing with a vengeance; to her, it felt like being stabbed in the back by her closest friend—well, the few that were left anyway. She considered her next move, crossing a leg over the other suggesting concentration. The slightest teasing flex of her quad made a very particular appendage belonging to Pavel stand at attention. "The last time we played a game this tense, the world was on the brink of destruction."

The chessboard shook erratically, throwing Pavel off-guard for the briefest of moments, but Lucy remained calm as ever. In fact, she riposted with a laugh. Yes, she did have to bring that particular subject of conversation up—again.

"Now, now. Can't have you being upset, can we? Whatever would your precious humans think?" She made her next move: her rook to C6, taking her opponent's knight. It actually felt like Lucy was winning this time. More often than not, the two players reached a stalemate. This was no ordinary game of chess either, but one of cosmic proportions. If Lucy were to win as alluded—well, things to say the least wouldn't turn out all that good for anyone. But if her adversary took the game instead, all would be well. Nevertheless, they always reached a stalemate. "Besides. It was you who designed this blasted game of strategy. Or at least, planted the idea into one of their little heads."

Lucy smirked. Pavel's little mind obviously couldn't tell, but the girl's opponent had fallen uncharacteristically silent. Maybe things truly were on her side for the first time in—well, only He knew how long. Lucy hadn't bothered to keep track.

"I'm surprised at you actually. You know we're this close to getting our hands on the Key then opening the doors to Gabriel's Paradise. And you have done next to nothing to stop me." Lucy suppressed a laugh. It almost felt like He actually wanted her to find the Key. What a twist that would be. It would shake the foundations of faith itself. But then she did laugh. "Of course I know it's not an actual key. You forget: I know how you think. Well, outside of Chess at least."

Pavel had grown increasingly uncomfortable with how the situation was panning out. He knew about the Key and how it would help Lucy in her grand self-serving ambitions, but he didn't 'know' her, and listening to her ramble into an empty chair wasn't part of the job description. Nevertheless, he tried his utmost to maintain his composure, knowing all-too-well what happened to the last guy who gave her lip.

"Oh, you sent your little angel to help, did you?" Lucy scoffed. Frankly, she expected better from Him at this point. It was almost laughable to think there was would even be a modicum of success this time. Lucy had it all planned out, and her own little minion—Brittany—to thwart those attempts. "I doubt Gabriel's up to the task so keenly this time. She still going cold turkey on that drug I gave her?"

The chessboard shook again, although this time far more violently and cracked down the middle, effectively ending the game in yet another—yet dubious—stalemate. In spite of that, Lucy chuckled. It was probably the most riled she got Him since her rebellion. He really had to control that temper of his. But of course, if it weren't for that, she wouldn't be.

It was suddenly the perfect time for a meal in town.

"Guess we'll have to play another game." Lucy rose from the chair and grabbed her coat--a large brown fur thing that could easily have covered her twice over—and dainty handbag before saucily pacing over to the visibly sweating Pavel. He was happy the awkwardness was over but felt he would witness something like that more than once. "When you've cooled, that is" she jibed.

Pavel opened the door for his mistress, who returned the favour with an all-too-invasive kiss. Lucy didn't care that she had her tongue down the throat of a man easily twenty years her senior. She liked that kind of thing.

"Tell that carpenter of yours I said hi" the girl sharply concluded to her bodiless foe, her words stinging like a viper. "I've got my eye on him."

[Amnoartist]

Large Grandma (First Half) [P]
Written and edited by Amnoartist

NOTE: This is one of my more extreme, push-the-envelope Patreon stories that caters to a very particular audience. Please bear in mind that there are themes in this story that won't appeal to everyone. With that said, I hope you enjoy.

You sighed, looking out of the car window with nervousness, and for good reason: you were wedged against it by your massive younger sister, whose bulk took up two seats! That, plus you were visiting the grandma you had not seen in what felt like forever.

The car pulled into the driveway, a custom-framed BMW to support the immense combined weight of your mother and sister. The leather seats creaked as they each shuffled out of the vehicle, you following close behind. All you could see ahead was bulging back muscles easily twice your width.

Her long brown hair flowing in the gentle wind, your mother wore a blue checked shirt and matching denims with low heels to accentuate her calves that constantly bulged, thick veins traversing up her equally broad hamstrings bolstered by quads thick as pillars. Her every gentle breath forced her massive chest to expand and attack the shirt that, surprisingly, held itself together against her enormity. Every step she took nearer to your grandma's door compelled her globular calves to tighten up.

Your sister was just as daunting to look at, with equally long and loose blonde hair swept across her mountain of a back covered by a sports top and shorts both two sizes too small. Not that she cared much. It was all deliberate. In their relaxed, cold state, her biceps were at least twofold the size of your head, wreathed in veins. She was bigger than you in all respects, there was no doubting that, but still smaller than your mother.

Your mother turned back with a quick scowl, realising you had lagged behind. "Keep up now - can't keep your grandma waiting." She pressed the doorbell and waited, for both of you to arrive.

Your sister paced past you and came up to your mother's side, where between you and the door a wall of back muscle was created. "Let me in," you called, vainly squeezing your way through the wall of beef to stand between your much larger relatives, but your sister demonstrated her dominance through simply stiffening up her back into a flex that solidified her position, as if it rooted her to the ground. "Don't do that," you added.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about," your sister mockingly returned, playing dumb as she offered a smug grin. She loved showing off her obvious superiority whenever the opportunity arose, even if it really was just in jest. "Oh, you mean this?" She drew her elbows inward to goad her already enormous back into swelling even wider; eliminating the potential small space you could have used to stand in.

"Yeah, that," you chided. But as always, there was little point in expressing your thoughts about anything with your sister.

"Behave you two," your mother scolded, her voice stern but loving.

You groaned in annoyance just as one of the upstairs windows creaked open to reveal your grandma's face, wrinkled and weathered with age in so many ways you could lose count. Her trapezius muscles were hinted at through the room's faint shadow. "Ah, you're here." Her voice was softly-spoken, a tad soothing. "Go on in. We'll be with you in a minute." A groan came from behind as she lapped a thick pasty white liquid from her cleavage with a finger before sucking on it as she moved away.

"Alright." Your mother slowly opened the door, her pumpkin'd deltoids brushing against the threshold as she and your sister both tried to squeeze their way through it, you watching from behind as their muscles bulged and popped from the effort employed in the arduous task, splitting the door's panelling. When finally inside, you included, they waited in the hall for your grandma to make her appearance. You would have preferred to do that in the comfort of a chair in the living room, not the contrasting icy hall.

Your sister gave her biceps a few flexes to help pass the time, each flex goading the muscle larger and larger, watching the great peaks bounce up and down, and closely examining the thick veins embellishing the plump limb. As each flex took place, the ridged bumps of her deltoids popped in conjunction. She was so smitten by her own body, it was almost perverse.

"Show-off," you nagged.

Above you, the floorboards started creaking as loud steps moved closer to the staircase, the ceiling spewing out dust in tandem with each stride.

Just then, your grandma appeared, wearing a top stretched to its extremities, covering the vast amount of muscle underneath screaming for release. Her entire muscular magnificence was relaxed, cold, and yet it surpassed both your mother and sister's combined! Her triceps pushed against the fabric of the top, some of the muscle itself trying to bulge its way through it. Even the gentlest flex of her calf was enough proof to show she was number one, its sheer size larger than your mother's bicep post-workout, criss-crossed with a network of pulsing veins! Her ample breasts jiggled as if they had minds of their own, held together by a wall of pectoral meat so thick the edge of her chin brushed against it each time it was pumped to its limit! Her relaxed biceps each bore down on her emerging obliques, their individual dense peaks humorously flattened by the motion.

"Sorry I had to keep you waiting," she said, slowly moving down the staircase, her bare calf meat bulging with each step, the floorboards still creaking. Your grandma's calves in contrast with your mother's were evidently larger, as if a cow had cannibalised another, larger one! They brushed against the carpeted steps upon her descent. "I was just giving your father a quickie. He should be down shortly."

Upon your grandma finally by your side, her muscles bulging without having to flex and breasts jiggling, you abruptly ejaculated at the sight of her, moaning with a quick pelvic jerk.

Your mother caught the display that just occurred with the corner of her eyes and was understandably traumatised by it. "Oh my god! I told you to empty your balls before we left!"

"I did!" you called back with a humiliated expression.

"Oh em gee!" your sister laughed, covering her mouth with a hand, the tendons in her forearm twitching with the gesture.

Your grandma though, acted a little more nonchalantly. "Glad to see I'm providing the desired effect for you – again." your grandma cooed, gazing perversely at the new dark, dripping stain in your jeans. "I was worried it might've been an accident last time. What a shame that would've been." She smiled, her wrinkles bunching up at the cheeks.

"Sorry about that, honestly," your mother said with embarrassment, a hand to her forehead. She repeated her statement about having asked you to empty your balls before leaving earlier. "I didn't think it would happen again. At least, not so obviously like before."

"I think it's hilarious," your sister admitted with a smile. She always did like to laugh at other people's misfortunes.

"Oh you would, wouldn't you?" you retorted sarcastically.

Your grandma laughed it off, offering a quick glance at your discomfited expression. "Not to worry. He's just gone to prove I'm still desirable for even men his age." She ended her reassuring statement with a bicep flex that strained the fabric of her top so intensely, the attire finally started visibly conceding to her massiveness, exhibiting small yet noticeable rips. The bicep itself had to be at least forty-five inches round, level with her bottom lip, veins faintly squirming under her skin.

The magnificent display caused you to stiffen up again.

"Though I admit," your grandma added, looking at your Johnson, "you do need to control yourself. I know us women are practically fertility goddesses blended with raw, unparalleled strength and size, making us all unbearably attractive, especially me, but you really need to put a curb on your urges, boy. I would hate to discipline you."

You worriedly gulped at the thought of your grandma using the strength in her overstuffed melon sized arm to give you an old-fashioned spanking, pants down to bare your buttocks. She was always one for keeping with tradition. You dreaded to think what kind of damage she'd wreak on you if the full strength of her swing was employed to the disciplining, how red your cheeks would be.

"That'd be fun to watch," your sister divulged with a smile that coerced her traps and neck to bulge and flex in concert.

"Oh hush, you," your mother cautioned, shaking her head.

You glowered at your sister in annoyance, who stuck her tongue out in response.

Your grandma offered a laugh at your sister's ever-honest reply, driving her thickset chest muscles against her top, straining it more and more. "No, no, I won't do that. I'm pretty sure there are other ways to punish him," she pointed out knowingly.

You gulped.

"But right now, I think you ought to change out of that underwear of yours." Your grandma folded her arms, her back widening to the point where her shoulders almost touched the wall at either side, casting a vast shadow over her visitors, the material of her top slowly splitting at the back to reveal her pulsing lats! "I think you've a couple of spare pairs lying around somewhere. They should fit you nicely, she mentioned nonchalantly.

There was no reason to ponder about it. You immediately dashed upstairs like a gazelle, brushing past your behemoth relatives.

"Make sure to freshen up while you're at it," your mother shouted up. "God knows you need to!"

///

Half an hour later, you were freshened up and ready to tolerate your grandma. Or at least, you were willing to try. After all, if she made you lose your load without making an effort, imagine what would happen if she did! At any rate, you would need to sit around her.

When downstairs, you found your behemoth sister splayed on huge custom-framed massage tables, dressed in a bikini, your grandpa eagerly kneading her melon-sized cows. She sighed contentedly in response to his hands gently manipulating the vast, veiny muscle, offering a quick glance at you.

To her right was another massage table far, far larger than her own, its frame slightly warped thanks to the immense bulk of your grandma, almost wearing a bikini, but hers was strained almost to its limits. Like your sister, she released a sigh as your mother pressed down on her barn door of a back. Or at least, she tried to. Every time she pushed on her spine to knead its surrounding beef, the fleshed barely depressed enough for her hands to get deep into the muscles themselves.

"Ah, glad you could join us," your grandma declared with pleasure, offering a smile that emphasised the wrinkles on her face. "I was wondering when we'd see you again." She gestured for you to come closer, the mere flick of her wrist enough to make every muscle in her arm ripple and bulge.

Reluctantly you complied; taking slow, strategically placed steps closer to the muscle behemoth who nursed your mother for years, her mammaries swollen with milk and pressing against the table. With each approaching step her size was emphasised more and more, hopelessly dwarfing your own on all accounts!

She curled the open arm, coercing its powerful muscle to balloon to its largest, the sharp peak angled towards your stomach. "Go on sweetie, give it a feel. You know you want to."

Your mother offered a quick glower that implied you best do what was asked. But you were conflicted; you liked muscular women, there was no doubting that, but sometimes your mother and sister made that difficult for you to live with. Now your grandma was trying to go farther than that!

Despite the confliction, you caved and enveloped your hand round her massive arm before realising its full span barely encompassed even half the ballooned muscle! It was unbelievable!

Your grandma smiled. "Surprised you're so shocked," she admitted, clocking your emergent erection with a grin. "You're definitely happy about it though." Moving the flexed arm downward, the septuagenarian motioned to her calves. "Try the cows next, pet. You'll love those."

Your mother distanced herself from your grandma, moving towards the fireplace as she watched you take her place. You observed your grandma's calves for a moment, trying to wrap your head round the sheer size of them. Cows they were indeed; their mass must have been four times bigger than your mother's, swathed in veins and decorated with striations, carved into the distinctive heart shape many sought.

"Big, aren't they?" your grandma teased, casually flexing a calf to the point where the muscle underneath visibly rolled forth to the surface of her skin, as though trying to burst through it! "Just imagine if they were actually pumped, love."

You jerked forward with lust, suppressing your erection.

"I'll say!" your sister interjected, green with envy. If there was anybody she wanted to be like, it was, beyond question, her grandma. "Mine look like lemons compared to yours."

"Aww, don't worry, sweetheart," your grandma said, trying to reassure your sister, "they're still bigger than your father's. Besides, I'm pretty sure you'll catch up to me eventually."

"That's right." Your grandpa finally broke his silence, pulling back to bring his massaging to an end. "With a little more work, you'll be even bigger than him! Who knows? You might even be bigger than your grandma, one day." He was always one for encouragement.

There was also you to compare with your father. You were by no means huge, but God knows you were lucky enough to not be the smallest of the males in your family either. The two of you were roughly the same in regards to mass; fit and toned enough to be desirable to most women, but still too small to go up against even your sister, let alone your mother.

"You're welcome to try," your grandma teased in jest before she laughed, eyeballing your still apparent erection. "Though your brother is definitely bigger than him in some places."

Your face turned beet red with embarrassment, concealing your hard-on with a cupped hand.

"No need to be so embarrassed, dear," your grandma cooed as she rose from the table, the legs creaking with the motion, releasing metallic moans, hopeful of eventually being freed from her immensity. "It just means you appreciate me in your own special way," she added with an expression so sultry, it would melt anyone's heart!

You nodded in reluctance, suppressing the urge to ejaculate a second time. God knows what would have happened if you disagreed. Every time your grandma spoke, her muscles rippled and popped, so your attempt at controlling your bodily fluids would prove difficult.

///

When it was time for dinner, things only got more awkward. You first realised that would be the case when you caught onto the seating arrangement, which was very particular. Sitting comfortably – or at least, attempting to – you realised your mother was seated directly to your left, your sister to your right and your grandma directly ahead, their metal framed seats groaning under their weight.

Your grandpa was to be seated to your grandma's right, but he had the duty of dishing out the meals of the evening. And there really was an emphasis on 'meals.' Ever since he woke up earlier that morning, he immediately launched into cooking the countless dinners your grandma, mother and sister would later feast upon like vultures, seldom stopping to eat between each meal. There was chicken, beef, bacon, vegetables, stir fry, pasta, potatoes... it was simply an endless orgy of food!

You tried to focus on eating your own meal, but each time a mouthful was taken, your mind drifted away into wondering just how much food your mother and sister could actually digest. Each mouthful to them was a whole meal to you! How much they ate was emphasised by their long and loud burps.
Your grandma was different. Much, much different, and it should not have been as much a surprise to you as it was. While every mouthful your mother and sister ate was a meal to you, her first of many meals to your grandma was a fortnight's worth of food to you! Her stomach was wide and round, visibly pressing against the table's edges. And in spite of that, her brick-thick abs still showed through her top, a button missing from her trousers.

"This has to be one of the best meals you've cooked to date," she said, praising your grandpa. Her stomach visibly swelled outward as she took another, pounds-heavy mouthful, her abs stretching and widening to better accommodate the ballooning. "I might have to reward you for it tonight," she added teasingly.

Your grandpa chuckled.

You watched as your grandma continued eating ravenously, intermittently releasing burps that dwarfed your mother and sister's combined! You groaned with lust at the sight, groping your balls under the table.

Your mother nudged you gently. "Not while we're eating." A splodge of spaghetti dropped from her fork.

Your grandma laughed it off. "It's fine. He's lasted longer than I thought." Despite reassuring your mother, she teased you further by slipping out of her slipper and groping your crotch with her bare foot. "Not so sure how much longer he'll be able to tolerate it though," she added, feeling your hard-on grow between her toes. "Maybe I should just end it for him now. What do you say? Should I give you a quickie right here? Maybe we should do something racier?"

You whimpered in response, shaking your head in refusal. It was full steam ahead now; ever since you arrived, your grandma was being nothing but a pure tease, flexing muscles this way and that. But now she was going so far as to try and get you to openly jack off to her!

"Oh come on. You don't know what you'd be missing out on, sweetie." She pulled an arm up into a flex, sending several plates crashing to the floor, the mere motion enough to make the vein encrusted limb to literally grow from the excitement of what could potentially happen. Was the growth temporary and only caused by the excitement? "Maybe I'll work your dick between my bicep?"

You groaned in half-annoyance and half-lust. Your grandma should not have been doing this to you, and yet she was driving you round the bend!

Your sister laughed. "Look at him squirm!"

"You can say yes, sweetheart," your mother said. She wanted you to agree – you saw it in her eyes: the hope. "There's nothing wrong in it. What if I joined in, would that help?!" Her voice was almost as sultry and commanding as your grandma's!

You shook your head again, "No, sprinting from the kitchen and running upstairs, your boots rhythmically stamping on the steps.

"He'll come around," your grandma stated with a smile. "They always do."

///

When night approached sleep was difficult for the reason that your sister's snoring was anything but quiet. While you knew everything your grandma tried to impose throughout the day was wrong, you couldn't deny it was she who kept you awake. You had to do something to help you sleep.

You rose from the bed and tiptoed past your drooling hulk of a sister, whose massive arm dangled free from the sheets, its veins prominent. Gently you opened the door just enough to squeeze through and quickened your creeping slightly as you entered the hall.

"Phew." You made your way towards the toilet and were just about to open its door when your ears picked up rhythmic creaking and some other sounds before a final, definitive thud from further down the hall. Usually, you would have presumed those noises to simply be the house creaking from the harsh night winds, but curiosity gripped you, so you ventured down the hall to the source of the noise: your grandma's bedroom.

Your conscience played no part now; as soon as you reached the door it had gone both deaf and blind. You were on your own with nothing to guide you. Only after opening the door would you know if it was meaningful. You opened the door slowly at first, just enough to peek your eye through. Then you saw it.

Your grandma stood naked by the TV, pleasuring your grandpa with a blowjob, his legs over her yard-thick shoulders. Her salt-and-pepper hair was loose and draped over her surging traps, throat bulging with every thrust.

"All those months of waiting, of holding your load in," she declared between sucks, "and now you're being rewarded."

You noticed her bed was a mangled heap of split wood and torn linen sprawled carelessly across the floor, the curtains shredded unevenly.

Your attention was then put drawn to her stomach; round and fat-like, reminiscent of when she gorged on the food at dinner time, her abs still showing. The difference here though, was the food had been exchanged for a near constant flow of your grandpa's repressed load. You could literally see it visibly stream down her throat in thick bulges and hit the bottom of her expanding muscle gut!

Every time she felt your grandpa getting flaccid, the mere flex of an arm was enough to make him hard again, her gravity-defying cantaloupe-sized breasts mushed against his comparatively small chest.
You felt yourself getting hard at the spectacle; the hardest you've ever been! Your cock tented to your grandma's audible swallows and contracting breasts as she pulled your grandpa in further, thrusting more of his tube steak down her bulging gullet.

Finally she clocked you and, defying all odds against her, was able to offer a full pleasant smile whilst sucking. Her next swallow was the loudest, which was probably deliberate. "Sweetie!" Her vice-like grip on him released, your grandpa slid free from your behemoth grandma into an exhausted heap. "How nice of you to drop by." She turned to face you, her swollen cum-filled muscle gut rolling with the motion, then started making her way towards you in a sultry manner.

You did not gulp, wince, or cry out in protest at what came next. Instead, you endured. With your grandma's every step your erection only intensified.

When finally facing, you a mere couple of inches apart, your bodies were starkly contrasted – pointlessly so! A vast shadow engulfed your smaller frame so much; it was as if it had turned your skin completely black!

"Now," she said, kneeling on both knees, taking a hold of your underwear, a finger gracing your hard-on for a moment, "why don't we see what you're made of." Using barely any of her strength, she tore your underwear free from your waist like tissue paper and watched as the totality of your phallus was finally made known to her, springing upwards.

Your grandma licked her lips. "My my," she said, taking hold of your cock, coercing her forearms to lightly bulge, "your mother certainly has been taking care of you over the years, hasn't she?" She bared her tongue out for you to see it before licking your shaft, ending with a quick suck before pulling back. "Wonder how much sugar I'm going to get from your lollipop."

You moaned as your grandma took your cock in her mouth hungrily, her tongue churning within your shaft. As she went ball-deep, her throat bulged to match the shape of your sack, using a free hand to grope one of her breasts.

You returned the motion by grabbing your grandma's deltoids with both hands in an attempt to knead them, but it was pointless; the pleasure you were experiencing was too much to help you concentrate.

Your grandma's bulging stomach gurgled, indicating something of significance was coming. As that took place though, she quickened her pace, going even deeper, her lips touching your thigh. Pulling out, she frowned. "Don't hold back, darling. Sugar's good for the skin." Her voice was sultry, rivalling that of even the greatest porn star.

Then almost suddenly, the build-up now unbearable, you came with a quick pelvis thrust, shooting your load into your grandma's mouth, bending forwards against her delt. Her hearing was dulled for that one moment of pleasure, but your sense of feel was far from dampened; heaving breaths, you literally felt your load expel, felt your grandma's hand still working your dick even as she swallowed.
"That's a good boy," she complimented with a grin before pulling herself up to stand over you, her stomach churning from the vast quantities of bodily fluids she consumed. "Thick and creamy."
"I didn't realise I had that much in me," you softly admitted in between pants.

Your grandma laughed. "Honestly, I thought you'd have much more in you, but beggars can't be chosers." She moved over to her your grandpa, her stomach visibly and audibly churning in line with each step. He was soundly asleep. "Still, it's better than what he had to offer."

A hand over your cock, you stood up and headed to the door to leave. There wasn't that much of a reason to hang around anymore. You looked back to see your grandma crunch down into an abs and thighs pose, audibly compressing the vast amounts of cum into nothingness, bringing her abs back into their perfect flat shape. She burped loudly before bringing her arm up into a flex that, predictably, made you hard again!

"I knew you weren't finished" she declared happily, sauntering back up to you and pulled you in closer.

The mere flex of your grandma's vein-laden bicep gave you the idea of wedging it between the mighty peak. "You said you wanted to work it between your bicep, didn't you?"

Your grandma laughed. "Glad to see your memory's sharp." Taking the hint, she started flexing her bicep to its max, the rock-hard bulgy beef underneath stroking your shaft in slow motions. "This is good, isn't it? A mother may know what's good for her child, but a grandma knows what's best for everyone." She quickened her flexes, flexing her bookcase-wide chest in tandem with the bobbing of your cock.

You started jerking lightly, indicating another ejaculating period was fast approaching. Your grandma noticed this and took advantage, placing her mouth in front to take the torrent of junk that would release from you. And then—

You released as expected, more powerfully than before, sending the cream down her throat in a prolonged torrent that filled her stomach like a drum as before, audibly stretching outward before pressing against your own gut!

When it eventually ended, you collapsed onto the floor panting. Your grandma loomed over you; her wide, cum-filled muscle gut reaching over the width of your back visibly squirmed as the love juice travelled through her. "He's been brought up well," she said contentedly, stroking her squirming gut.


End of Part 1.

[Amnoartist]

Large Grandma (Second Half [P]
Written & edited by Amnoartist

NOTE: I'm aware of the perspective change near the end of this half. When I was actively working on this series for Patreon, I decided to make the change behind-the-scenes.

You woke up the next morning with a surprisingly painful crotch, laid sloppily on the bedroom floor and drooling slightly. Not the most beautiful thing to wake up to in the morning, if someone saw you, but luckily you were spared that embarrassment.

You looked around and saw the wreck of a bed your grandma formerly slept in. Then you remember – everything. The memory flashes that followed brought forth a torrent of guilt and lust rolled into one: your grandma's swollen stomach; her sucking you off; the casual flex of her monstrous, vein-laden bicep... they all carried with them an emotion. You unluckily had to pick out which was which, like finding a needle in a haystack. "Aw geez."

A moment of calm recollection passed before you set off into the bathroom, wondering how everyone else would take the news because there was no doubting they knew what happened.

Sometime later you shared breakfast with your grandpa, who boasted a knowing grin as he watched you sluggishly eat. It was just he and you at the dining table, as your mother, sister and grandma were... elsewhere.

"So," your grandpa called out, mushing his cereal deeper into the milk to soak it up, "did you have a good time with your grandma last night, kiddo?"

You gulped, keeping your mouth shut. How else were you supposed to react to a question like that? It wasn't a question one would typically ask anytime, let alone during breakfast.

"Aw, come on, now," your grandpa chuckled. "Don't act like I don't know what happened. I woke up just before you and found you lying there on the floor like a baby."

"I don't know what to think," you admitted. You were torn over how to feel on the previous night's events. It wasn't every day you got sucked off so well, but at the same time, it wasn't normal for the person who did the sucking to be your grandma.

"Uh-huh." Your grandpa thought otherwise. No – he knew otherwise; after all, you would not have submitted to your grandma if you were not interested in what she had to offer or could do.

"Where is she though?" you asked curiously before taking a sip of orange juice. You felt like you needed it; your lips were dry.

Your grandpa offered a small chuckle. He did know. You would not have asked that if interest did not take hold of you. "She's in the basement, working out with your mother and sister."

At that moment you heard the drawn out groaning of steel from below, the strained grunts and groans of various pitches. It was a cacophony of metal and lust. There was that slight urge to stop eating and head down the basement and see the powerful women in question work out, but you knew better.

"That's it sweetie, work those cows," you heard your grandma call out in a commanding tone, her voice near blasting through the door that led to the basement. "Make them moo!"

"I-I-I can't," your sister responded weepily, letting out a groan that was more pleasurable than an indication of strain, as if she had stopped pressing. "I'm just not strong enough."

"Look!" Your grandma nearly screamed, presumably flexing her massive quads as a means to motivate your Mr Olympia shaming sister. "Do you or do you not want quads like these?"

"Yes," your sister strained.

"Then press that weight!"

Your grandpa watched you visibly squirm at the teasing that took place just a few feet below you. If it wasn't for him being able to control his urge from years of experience, he would probably be in the same position as you. "Calm down, kiddo."

Your sister let loose a roar as the groaning of steel came to an end by way of a definitive clanking sound that rang through the entire basement and up the stairs.

"That's it!" your grandma hollered pleasantly. "I knew you could do it."

"Congratulations honey," your mother complimented, her voice soothing as always. She never did doubt what your sister was capable of. "You're that little bit closer to being strong as your grandma."

Even though you couldn't see her, you imagined your sister showed some form of frown at your mother's statement.

"And I'm that much stronger than both of you combined," your grandma teased with a laugh, twisting the metaphorical knife.

Your sister groaned. "No' fair. Why can't I have quads like that?"

Your mother gave off a small laugh at your sister's adorably cute anger. "Don't worry 'hon. like I said: you'll get there eventually."

Your sister grumbled.

You returned to the dining table when the loud, near thunderously combined steps of your hulking relatives were heard, ascending the stairs to grace you and your grandpa with their mighty presence.

Your mother appeared first, clad in frame-hugging sports top and shorts with trainers. Her quick and ragged breaths accentuated every heave of her chest, draped in a lattice of soft pink veins that bulged across every inch of her physique, biceps pressed against her hips.

Your sister was to her side, more or less the same in appearance with the exception of rips and tears evenly spread across her shorts and top. Her mammoth sized back soaked in the sweat from her loose blonde hair. Arms folded to make her delts and lats flare, she looked at you with a shrewd grin.

Then your grandma appeared.

She had doubled in width as a result of her intense workout, casting a vast, dark shadow over your mother and sister without having to flex! Her wrinkles were highlighted from the gentle smile she presented upon her arrival.

"Well, that was a nice workout," she said, looking to you for a moment, then your grandpa. "Long and intense."

"Aw yeah!" Your sister drew herself down into a crab flex, coercing every possible muscle to both visibly and audibly bulge to its maximum! "We got such a great pump from it!" Holding the pose, her biceps pushed inward closer to her chest, muscles and veins squirming.

"I'm going to catch a bath now," your grandma declared, heading to the door before turning back at the realisation she had forgotten something. "And I want you to help me," she insisted, pointing to you.

Your heart sank. How were you going to wash her? Not that you were unwilling or otherwise. It was just... she was so damn big; you wondered it was even possible to wash her. You turned to your mother for her opinion on the matter. Her reply was not verbal, rather made known through expression; it looked as though she wanted to wash your grandma instead! But your grandma could not be more insistent that it be you.

"Do I have to," you nearly squeaked out.

"No, of course not," your grandma said soothingly, kindly. Her expression turned to one of disappointment as if to say she thought that you thought you were forced into it. But then her face changed into something more frightening. "But I'll give you a right good, old-fashioned spanking with this arm here," she said, curling her arm into a flex so powerful, the top burst to show her full arm, deltoid and all, veins popping and coiling, "if you don't."

"Best do what you're told, kiddo," your grandpa said, his tone indicating remorse.

You gulped.

///

"Now..." Your grandma slowly removed her bathrobe to reveal the mountain range of muscle that was her back, tensing it for a moment to entice you. "I want you to be a good boy and not lose your cream while bathing me, okay?"

You nodded in compliance with your grandma's command, in spite of knowing all too well it would be near impossible to uphold.

The robe dropped to the floor in a heap of pearl white cotton, revealing your grandma's rippling nakedness. Through the portable mirror in front of her, she spotted your gobsmacked expression and returned with a flex of her glutes, compelling the steely and wrinkled beef to ripple and bulge. "It's going to be so much fun for me watching you fail and blow your load in those clean jeans of yours."

She stepped into the bath and laid her back against the side. The water spilled out to the floor as her massive glutes caused a mini tsunami within its porcelain confines. A smile crept across her face as she extended her calf out to you, pointing to the extra-large sponge you knew was still too small. "Start with the cows, sweetie."

Shivering, you complied, taking the sponge to your grandma's calf. By comparison, the width of your forearm did not match even half its size, criss-crossed with veins and wrinkles that only emphasised its beauty and splendour. She sighed as the water's warmth struck her cannonball sized calf.

"You know there's no need to pretend you don't like' me, dear," she said, glancing at your predictable erection that started to make itself known. "But if you don't do as you're told and hold your cream in like I asked..." she reached out and grabbed your cock with the full vice-like strength of her hand, causing you to yelp out. "I will give you that spanking, a young man or not." She let go, alleviating you of the pain.

"But what if I want the spanking?" you said.

"Ho-ho, naughty," you grandma called out, waving a finger. She pulled her bulging arm out for you to clean it, watching the soapy water slide down the thick groove and striations. "But no, that's not how things work. If you want that spanking, you need to lose your cream. And you know there are ways to do that. After all, we're all alone here, pet."

You cocked your brow in confusion.

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" Your grandma motioned to your crotch. "Start jacking," she commanded sternly.

Without even a hint of hesitation, you unbuckled your jeans, pulled them and your underwear down over your ankles and started to jerk off, half wanting to and half out of fear of what your grandma would do if you did not.

"That's it. That's a good boy." Your grandma pulled an arm up into a flex that smashed the soapy suds between its crook together and formed floating bubbles. "Jack off to granny. Make her feel appreciated."

You watched as your grandma's soap-covered hand reached down to your cock and helped you with the pleasurable deed in slow strokes. Smiling, she watched as you started to drool a little.

"A little too good, eh, kiddo?"

You nodded.

Your grandma pulled her hand free and laid back into the bath. "Finish yourself off in your room. I'll maybe give you that spanking later, depending on my mood."

She was such a tease!


///

Large Grandma III

Your grandma looked at both you and your sister with a shrewd grin, dressed in a stylish bikini and heels that accentuated her every rippling, out-sizing, veiny and bulbous muscles.

"Go on" she said, cupping her breasts with a smile defying her age. "Give 'em a feel. You know you want to. Go for a right good squeeze."

You gulped in trepidation not at what your grandma was so openly permitting, but the sheer concept a pair of breasts as big as hers could even exist. Not only that, they looked so firm and plump with zero discernible sag considering their size.

"I don't think I-"

Your sister laughed as she obviously found your reluctance humorous. "You scared? Never saw a pair of breasts so big?"

"No, and you hadn't either until now" you pointed out confidently. "Besides, I've seen them both on a more, um...personal level."

While what you said was true, your sister didn't care much about it. You didn't touch them though, did you? "If you're too scared to do that, I will instead."

Your grandma smirked knowingly. She knew you'd come around eventually. After all, you'd already done that once before. "Give him time; he'll do it when he's ready, sweetie."

Smirking, your sister moved in to grope your grandma's breasts, squeezing then greedily; nails digging into the plump flesh. You were worried your sister's kneading was too much and perhaps painful for your grandma, but she just laughed heartily, almost moaned with pleasure.

"God, they're so big, so round..." your sister's train of thought suddenly stopped as she was rendered lost for words. Her heart pulsed rapidly for a moment before she pulled her hands away, averting her gaze almost abruptly. "Yeah, they're pretty big."

Your grandma smirked, fiddling a nipple with her fingers. "That's an understatement."

You stared at her breasts for a moment, watching them jiggle in tandem with her breaths of lust; their bounces supernaturally inviting. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea to touch them after all.

"Mine are so small compared to yours though" your sister said, cupping her breasts with a frown.
While hers were smaller than your grandma's, your sister's breasts were still impressive in their own right, their cup size at EE.

"Don't worry, sweetie" your grandma said reassuringly, grasping your sister's thick distended shoulder, "you'll get there eventually."

Your sister smiled, her spirits heightened. "Thanks."

"These, on the other hand" your grandma said before pulling an arm up into a flex, displaying around 40 inches of pure wrinkled beef, watching the muscle bulge and ripple with an age-defying smile, "won't be easy to overtake anytime soon."

You bit your lip as the mound of she-meat was held in its hillock-shaped position, your grandma smirking knowingly in return.

"Wouldn't want to build your hopes up or anything" she said.

Her breasts bounced again with the gentle breaths, inviting you forward to grope them just as your sister did.

Your grandma chuckled, flexing her pecs to tease you. "Knew you couldn't resist them."

"Look at him; like a kid at Christmas" your sister laughingly compared.

"Since you groped me, I hope you don't mind if I" your grandma said, moving into you with a gentle hand to cup your balls tightly, forcing you to let out a groan, "do the same to you."

She sniffed your collar and took in the aroma of your aftershave before shuddering with ecstasy, pulling you in for a full, long, tongue-deep and passionate kiss that sucked the air from your lungs.
Your sister watched and lusted after the dominance your grandma so flawlessly boasted; reflected through her every action.

"You taste good too" she said, stroking your chin. "But then, we both know that already, don't we?"
She batted her eyelids, which was enough at that point for you to blow your load in your jeans, forming a dark and sticky stain at the crotch.

Your sister laughed softly. "Someone needs to learn to hold his load."

Your grandma nodded. "I agree; we might need to teach him that." You didn't know whether whimper or cheer at her insinuation. "But I do remember saying I'd give you a right good spanking if you were deserving of one, which" she added, looking at your damp crotch, "happens to be the case. It's almost as if you spoke the truth when you said you 'really' wanted that spanking I talked about earlier."

You gulped as your grandma sat on the edge of the bed before pulling you down over her pillar-thick knee, your sister tittering like a schoolgirl.

"Ho-ho, this is gonna sting like a bee" she said almost sadistically, watching your grandma gleefully, shamelessly pull your jeans and underwear down to reveal your buttocks.

"Sit still now" the old woman ordered, eyeballing your fidgety movements sternly, "or I will be forced to dole out double the punishment."

Your sister giggled, folding her arms over her chest, feeling the respective muscles ripple over her forearm. "Maybe he wants double."

"No! No, I definitely do not want double" you nearly squealed, clenching your buttocks to prepare for the onslaught of pain that would soon come. "I don't even want this."

Your grandma stroked your buttocks with a gentle wrinkled hand, squeezing it firmly for a moment before smiling. This was going to hurt and you all knew that.

"Then you shouldn't have blown your load, sweetie" she said soothingly, lifting a hand up. Your sister watched the muscles in the arm quaver and tense; signifying both her incredible strength and the power behind the impending swing of her hand.

Slap.

Wincing, you jerked forward in pain, nails digging into your grandma's rippling thigh to hold yourself up. She wasn't pleased about that.

Slap.

Your sister giggled. Two slaps in and your buttocks were already red, a large handprint over them.
"Hold yourself together boy, I mean it" your grandma called, reaching out for a third slap harder than the last two combined.

With the fourth slap her arm bulged and popped, grinding the powerful, granite-like muscles together, flanked by those pumpkin'd, striated deltoids.

You winced as the fourth slap was struck, forcing you to buckle at the knees and fall face-first against your grandma's calf, almost kissing it during your descent, before ultimately crashing to the carpet.

"There" your grandma said, rising from the bed, looking down at you apologetically. "That'll do for now." She casually left the room, acting as if nothing happened.

Your sister shuffled forward and offered a hand to help pull you up, although she couldn't hide that smile all-too well.

"That stung like a bitch, let alone a bee" you said, pulling your jeans back up.

"It was kinda funny" your sister said, suppressing a laugh.

You rolled your eyes derisively.

///

The next day was hardly any better for you. That said, it wasn't any worse neither. The sun split through the trees, indicating the first of hopefully many summer days, and the birds tweeted musically in celebration.

Naturally, your grandma took advantage of this.

"Come help me with this" she said, soothingly.

You turned from the deckchair and saw her stood in a different, far glitzier bikini than before, her bare feet pressed squarely in the hot stone paving. The day's heat took its toll on you; fanning your face rapidly with a rolled up newspaper, and yet the old woman before you remained unmoved, as if didn't affect her in any way.

Your grandma presented a bottle of oil with a ravishing grin and shook it in such a way that even that was enticing for you. She placed it on the small deck table and plopped her hulking massiveness down on the steel framed chair beside it, her overbearing bulk was so heavy at this point, and it coerced the chair to let out small metallic groans of anguish, hoping to be released from your relative's hugeness.

She crossed her leg over, literally feeling the thick wrinkled she-beef expand outward at its own free will like a balloon before reaching out seductively and opening the bottle of oil. "You know what to do."

Reluctance hit you. On the one side, the sheer amount of muscle your grandma had was near inhuman, but that's what made her so irresistibly attractive, and on the other, because there was so much muscle laid out before you, you wondered the one bottle of oil would even do the job. Even so, the attractiveness was what pulled you in.

Your grandma pulled her arm into a flex and watched as you tried to cover its beefy splendour in oil, offering a brisk grin as the tips of your fingers glided closer to her peak, caressing the leathery yet undeniably solid limb.

"You've done this before in a sense, haven't you?" your grandma inquired, checking the meticulous circular movements you employed with lathering the oil, watching it seep into her rock solid arm. "You've probably used oil like this to lube up before jerking off, right?"

You gulped anxiously in response to the Amazonian's implication. But your own silence betrayed you.
Your grandma laughed heartily, a hand to her thick veiny chest wider than your own even when cold.

"I knew it."

Despite the awkwardness that sprouted from your grandma, you continued with the task at hand out of fear of what might have happened if you didn't; your buttocks still stung painfully from the spanking given to you earlier, and you didn't plan on getting another one anytime soon.

She moved your hand closer to her chest and heaved it into a flex that coerced her pecs to ripple and pop, and her breasts to jut out, placing a finger between one of her nipples before deliberately letting out a seductive moan. "There's a good boy. Now you get to touch 'em a bit more privately."

"This is wrong" you called out, squirming. The emotional confliction was still present; while you did accept the initial sexual gratification from your grandma the previous night, it was only out of covetousness for her muscular frame. And when you helped wash her – you were understandably fearful of what she would do if you refused.

Your grandma laughed again, her hand reaching toward your crotch. "But you're enjoying it." She squeezed your erect junk and smiled at your gentle wince.

Having fun?" said the sudden familiar voice from behind.

You turned with a frightful sense of knowing, watching your mother saunter sexily toward you and your grandma with a pitcher of margarita, which she set down on the same table as the oil. Your mother wore a glitzy bikini somewhat similar to your grandma's – the only really noticeable difference was the size. What your mother wore width-wise was practically a third of what your behemoth grandma sported.

What happened next took you so much by surprise; you thought your heart stopped for a moment, suggesting even it was astonished.

Your mother leaned down to your grandma with a smile before openly French-kissing her, pulling the older woman in closer, their respective pairs of breasts mashing together like four beach balls bouncing off one another, being kept aloft by the inches-thick wall of pectoral tissue.

Your grandma pulled away slightly to tilt her head backward, allowing your mother to kiss the width of her neck romantically. Your grandma moaned lustfully before finally speaking. "Was wondering when you'd do that again."

Your brain blew at that statement. 'Again'? What did she mean by that?

"Don't act so surprised, sweetie" your mother said, holding back the urge to smile. Honestly, she felt pitiful towards you, crossing her arms over her chest, allowing her delts to burst forth with mass, as if they literally grew bigger from the simple motion. "Your grandma and I have been doing 'it' for years."

Your grandma smirked, eyeballing your mounting hard-on lustfully before slapping your mother's steely glutes and gripping her buttocks in such a way that it appeared she was asserting her position. "You should come watch one time. You know where to find us."

"Watch?" your mother tried to hold back her grin again, but this time it was impossible. "Why doesn't he take part?"

Your grandma cocked her brow, suggesting intrigue. "Now, there's an idea!" She sat up from the deck chair and stroked your erect shaft gently. "How about it, big boy? Wanna get sandwiched between our beefy bods, suck our tits and get fobbed off by our muscles?"

That did it. You blew your load at the image of you banging your mother and grandma shamelessly, watching them lez out with one another, exploring each other's beefy bodies before ultimately engaging in full-power Amazonian sex!

"We'll take that as a yes" your grandma said, before scooping you up in her sixty-inched, vein mapped arms. "We're gonna have so much fun!"

///


Large Grandma IV

Nervousness gripped Tim like a vice as he lay sprawled on the bed wearing just his pants and socks. His mind was at war with itself over what was about to happen: a threesome with his mother and
grandmother. His anticipation was bonded with the possibility of pain that could come from being wedged, sandwiched between the two powerful women before him.

His mother, Patricia, had slipped out of her body-hugging gymwear into something far racier – a glitzy bikini bedecked with diamonds, the sun blazing through the window to grace the oiled, accentuated hillocks of muscle that came in different shapes and sizes that made up her bodybuilder-shaming back hunched into a lat spread.

Linda, Tim's grandmother, shared the same motions, though of course she displayed far more beef than Patricia, flawlessly so; without even so much as a flex, just by standing at her side, the wrinkled woman outsized her daughter, with shoulders wide as the door, striated and flaring at their own accord.

"Now, we want you to be a good boy and hold your cream in, you hear?" Linda said soothingly, taking the bottle of oil from Patricia to lather a fresh dollop between her cleavage, making sure a deliberate sensual moan escaped her lips. "Would hate having to discipline you again."

Patricia noticed Tim's anxious visage and frowned, folding her arms over her chest, compelling the thick triceps to pop and flare with minimal effort. Admittedly, she expected better from him, had anticipated the only expression he would show to be pure elation. "Just relax, sweetie; we know what we're doing."

That was precisely the problem. Tim had suspected that through the year of being "close," as it were, his mother and grandmother had become maybe a bit too good at what they planned to do. The whole idea was for them all to enjoy it, take a sense of leisure in it. Standing there in muscle-revealing attire and oiling up in preparation was sure grounds to get Tim off before it even started!

Linda rubbed another dollop of oil into her abs, allowing the individual slabs of hard stomach beef to be more pronounced; in tandem with each gentle breath she took they rippled and popped, emphasising the flanking oblique and serratus muscles. A lone streak of oil skimmed down her cobblestone stomach before slipping behind her bikini bottoms, between her pillar-thick thighs. She watched Tim's lewd expression lustily, gearing up for the electrifying moment that lay ahead. "That little private moment we had a couple of nights ago was just foreplay compared to what we're getting into tonight."

Tim wasn't sure whether to consider his grandmother's words as a warning or means to stimulate him. It worked both ways!

"What do you say we get him going a bit, huh?" Patricia offered a knowing expression to her mother, glancing at the older woman's man-shaming chest covetously for a moment before staring into her eyes. "You know, a little foreplay, so to speak."

Linda smirked, looking at the eager Tim before responding. "I like the way you think. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I don't think Tim knows just how strong you really are, does he?"

Linda's brow curved inquisitively. "So you want me to perform a feat of strength for him to watch?" She wasn't too keen on that. There was the possibility Tim just might lose the will to control his cream and spurt in his pants, at which point it would then be clear all the oiling and preparation for their fun was meaningless. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

Patricia leaned in close to whisper into her mother's ear. Whatever was suggested, Linda was definitely intrigued by the idea, but she couldn't deny the slight sense of worry that could come from any possible mishaps. "You sure? I might hurt you, you know."

Patricia's response was simply a nod accompanied by a confident grin. The powerhouse of a Mum was sure her suggestion would stoke Tim's fire.

"Alright, then" Linda conceded with a shrug, deltoids flaring violently from the motion. "If you say so."

She took a few steps back before laying flat on her back; the rough-textured carpet rubbing against the bloated hillocks of her lats, before pulling her arms out to the ceiling as Patricia lowered herself onto them gently, oiled abs graced the older woman's fingertips.

It didn't take Tim long to figure out what was being planned as the feat of strength: Linda was going to bench her daughter's full 350-pound weight! Judging by just how big Linda was though, that wouldn't be much of an issue; she could probably bench at least double that!

Tim watched eagerly as his grandmother effortlessly pushed her daughter skyward using what seemed like barely even half her strength, one hand over her pecs, the other shamelessly tucked within her bikini bottoms over her pussy. Each push goaded the grandmother's full torso bigger as though it inflated like a balloon, pressing against the bikini's thin, comparably pathetic fabric.

Soft carnal moans escaped from Patricia as her breasts met her mother's welcoming lips each time she was brought down gently, the grandmother's near superhuman strength unwavering. The mother had herself been brought to unquestionable elation; her pussy pulsed in tandem with every greedy suck from her own ever-larger, ballooning parent.

Tim felt his erection develop and it did so so quickly that he wasn't sure it was normal. At any rate, he continued to watch, resisting the urge to jack off to the splendid sight before him, knowing punishment would come from him doing otherwise.

"You like that, don't you, sweetie?" Linda muffledly asked as continuously suckled on Patricia's breast, feeling her own become tender with the excitement, fingers interfering with the stiffening nipple. Tim wasn't sure if the question was aimed at him or his ecstatic, euphoric mother. He was too enraptured to properly care.

Linda stopped the feat, moving her arms gently to the side to let Patricia fall flat on her feet before the older Amazon did the same, move up close to her daughter. It was at this point Tim took a moment to compare the women against each other, but he knew there was very little point: his grandmother took the cake.

Same as before, just by standing there, she completely outclassed her own daughter, only this time even more so due to the considerable pump she got from the performed feat; a vast dark shadow practically engulfed the younger woman!

"Seems that did, in fact, get him going just a bit." Linda glanced at Tim's erection with a curt grin, arms folded over her beachball-sized breasts feeling their individually erect nipples jut and press against the thick sinews of her vein-coiled forearms. "Wonder what could drive him really crazy, make him really hard..."

She turned to glance at Patricia as an idea came to mind, examining her daughter's soft and supple lips contrasting the solid, emasculating muscles jutting out in all possible directions: left, right, up, down, underneath and behind!

Tim's nervousness drifted for a moment as he wondered what his grandmother had in mind, but judging by the amorous stare she offered to her daughter, he didn't need to think long or hard. He knew what was 'long and hard' though...

Linda pulled Patricia in close to her so as to have their respectively massive chests meet and grind both together and against one another, cleavages pulsing and throbbing as smooth muscled flesh caressed that which was both even larger and creased with age, and yet that was what made the moment so stimulating for both them and Tim, whose hand was edging closer to his throbbing dick.

Linda offered a wink in Tim's direction as if to indicate his presumption was indeed fact, before she plunged her tongue down Patricia's throat instigating an extended French kiss. Tim watched as his grandmother reached down and grabbed her daughter by the crotch, allowing a brief yelp of equal parts pleasure and astonishment to escape.

"This is so hot!" Tim finally spoke, his ears flooded with the enraptured moans of his mother and the soft yet evidently dominant giggles from his ever-larger grandmother. His erection pulsed, emphasising the building lust he deliberately resisted; God knows what the Amazonian muscle goddesses before him would do if he lost his load. Nevertheless, a small spurt of pre-cum shot out from his dick in tandem with his grandmother finally pulling her mouth free to let her daughter breathe, and respond to her grandson's statement:

"I imagine it would be."

Patricia gathered her breath. Never in all the years had she been going at it with her, had her mother been so spirited with her kisses. Talk about breath-taking she said inwardly.

Linda reached for the bottle of oil again, though this time her intentions with it were unquestionably different. Tim watched her wedge the plastic bottle between her cleavage, making sure its cap was placed upright and close to her massive rippling pecs. A small, almost girlish laugh escaped her as the bottle yielded to the crushing might of her chest, watching as, with her incredible muscle control, the cap slowly unscrewed in its final moments and the container exploded, releasing the yellowish oil all of the wrinkled woman's striated torso. In effect, this was a sort of euphemism for how things would go for Tim's load if the women before him persisted with their teases and didn't get down to what they were building up towards.

Patricia watched lustily as her mother kneaded the last vestiges of the oil into her unequalled muscles in gentle strokes with a smile, making sure to do it at a deliberately slow pace so Tim grew more agitated with his lust that was now reaching breaking point.

"I think it's time we had our fun, don't you?" the old woman rhetorically asked. In truth, she could practically feel her grandson's lust, not to mention see his manhood tent upward to the point that it looked as though the tip was close to ripping though his underwear!

Nervousness gripped Tim...

Tim groaned slightly in pain as his back smashed against the wall, cracking it, Linda holding in a sexual lift and carry position, her hair matted with sex, lust and sweat. She leaned in to nibble on his ear gently, sniffing the sweat dispensing from the pit of his arm. Strangely enough, his moisture only heightened the Amazon's lust, driving even deeper into him with an unfathomable longing.

Patricia flanked her mother from the right, cupping her gravity-defying breast to let her sex-crazed mother squeeze it with the massiveness of her bicep peak, watching the respective muscle ripple and pop as its split grazed against her stiffened nipple.

"You like that, don't you?" Linda's question applied to both Tim and Patricia, who seemed to struggle with keeping up with the older woman's sex drive. Tim recalled the previous night's carnal moments and compared it with the present. There was no denying what was going on right now happened to be on a whole other level of sex in general, let alone last night.

He looked past his grandmother's ballooning shoulder and saw the mangled wooden remains of the bed they all started their craziness on. That was two beds within the space of two nights!

Linda dropped Tim to the floor and knelt next to him, grabbing his still-hard cock with her hand and stroked its bulging length with her thumb, wiping some of the previous expelled cum with her fingertip before barefacedly sucking it. Patricia watched this happen and couldn't deny the jealousy building within wanting to be in her son's place. But she had so many years of being there before him.

"Let's see how long it takes, shall we?" Linda offered a grin emphasising her wrinkled cheeks as she started pumping Tim's dick with her hand, feeling both its hardness and her bicep bulge to its extremities with the motion. Tim lustily watched as the woman's bicep ballooned outward to brush against the side of her breast as the speed of her handjob seemed to quicken in tandem with his growing thickness.

Patricia ceaselessly kissed her mother's shoulder in tandem with each stroke from her hand, watching her son's face become more and more scrunched up with lust as his load reached breaking point for the fifth and final time. Linda took advantage of this moment and her grandson's thickness by placing his cock in the crock of her arm just like last time, working it within the grainy hardness of her bicep.

And then, reaching the precipice of the hours-long sexual stint, Tim groaned bending forward as his load released onto the 50+ inch arm of his pleased grandmother, who welcomed the shiny, sticky white liquid by rubbing it into her arm like the oil she'd just used.

Patricia shared in the moment, taking whatever dregs of her son's seed there were and lathered it into the cracks of her breasts, letting out small lusty moans as the sticky textured liquid seeped and dried in the steely massiveness of her pecs.

Tim panted, emphasising his tiredness. He was spent in more ways than one. As much as he enjoyed the craziness, he hoped it had now come to an end.

"Just one more thing for you to do" Linda said, looming over Tim.

///

The next day, Tim, Patricia and his sister Jane were leaving. He was in the car with Jane, processing and explaining to her the events of last night. Jane's eyes were glazed over with excitement, as if to suggest everything her brother had said was thrilling for her, though she couldn't deny the hint of jealousy within.

"She gave you a BJ?" she looked out the car window to her grandmother's house door with slight bewilderment, surprised a woman so old could still do such a thing. That said; how could someone so old also be that big? "You know what I'd give just to sleep with her?"

"Several actually" Tim pointed out. He remembered the last one he was given during last night's carnal adventures. Shame he wasn't given a 'good—bye' present though.

"That's frigging awesome!" Jane admitted excitedly.

Patricia entered the car, grunting with effort as the totality of her dwarfing muscular weight forced the vehicle to rock from side to side for a moment, straining the underside so much that the tyres squealed slightly.

"I asked your grandmother if she wanted to stay with us for the week, but she regretfully had to decline" she said with a slight frown.

The car's gears turned as she pulled the vehicle out of the driveway slowly.

"Maybe next time though" she added.

Tim turned to look out the window at his grandmother's house, wondering when he'd next see the colossal woman.

///

Afterwards...

Linda moved through the hallway slowly, her steps loud and tremulous, causing some of the more expensive ornaments to fall to the floor.

She turned into the kitchen where her husband Phil was sat at the table reading the paper. A gurgling sound filled the old man's ears, compelling him to rest the tabloid on the varnished wood before making eye contact with his massive wife, from whom the burbling sound came.

She slowly removed her gown with a smirk, allowing it to brush gently against her protruding lats before dropping gracefully to the floor. She smiled down at him, stroking her naked writhing cum-filled gut.

"Your turn" she said with a dominant tone, looming over her husband as she leaned in closer.


Fin
__________________________________

Awesome. You do good work.

[Amnoartist]

Is there any way this story can go on? This was amazing!

I've always got ideas on how it could continue, but since this was once a Patreon story, it's mainly up to my supporters if they'd like to see more (they vote on what I write) Right now, they seem to think the current ending is actually a good way to stop the series. But never say never!

Everything I loved everything about this story. So great! My favorite part is the one at the dinner table where she's eating with such power and burping. Are there any stories that focus on that kind of stuff?

Feel like returning to this series, so put a new poll up