Author: [simon] Stories~collected

[simon]

Stories in this collection:

Heroes and Hellfire: an Amy Brigand-Anderson fanfic

Tia's Takeover

Come On Over - A VERY short story featuring Saffron

A Trip to Manila | #AW



Heroes and Hellfire
by simon
an Amy Brigand-Anderson fanfic
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Amy Brigand-Anderson used with the permission of Iczerman, all other non historical characters are mine.

This is my second attempt at a story so any coments/criticism is welcomed.
_________________________________

Part 1

Amy had been surprised when she received the invite from the Royal Scottish Art Gallery in Edinburgh inviting her to their latest exhibition 'Heroes through the ages'. She thought at first someone might have heard of her adventures, but then realised that any gallery would be desperate to have such a famous (and beautiful) billionaire attend the opening of their latest exhibition. Nevertheless, as she entered the gallery she could not shake the apprehension that something was amiss.
Putting it down to paranoia, she accepted the greetings of the curator (after he had stopped looking at her chest), accepted a glass of Champaign from a happy looking waiter and started to walk round the exhibition. The exhibition mostly consisted of paintings, some portraits of famous heroes, some of battle scenes. There were also several cases displaying collections of medals along with a handful of artefacts on display. Amongst these was the sword of William Wallace, a massive two handed claymore (but smaller than Amy's own sword!).
As she wandered round however, Amy began to get rather bored. A few of the exhibits were known to her, like the story of how king Leonidas and his 300 Spartans had fought to the death against a quarter of a million Persians at Thermopylae. Most of the exhibits however, meant nothing to her. She was standing examining one particularly vivid painting when she heard a voice behind her. This painting depicted a night seen, lit by burning tanks and flashes of gunfire. A figure in the foreground was standing on top of a tank, waving two flares.
"Admiring my painting?" asked the voice in a faint Scottish accent. Amy spun round to find a man standing behind her. Even without the uniform he was wearing it was obvious that he was a warrior. The stranger was about 5'8", with a lean build covered with whip like muscles that spoke of great potential strength. He carried himself upright with an almost palpable aura of confidence and power. His every appearance gave the impression of a highly skilled and experienced soldier. He was wearing a khaki uniform jacket with gold braid over a white shirt and a dark green tartan kilt, complete with sporran. He had a light brown cap on with three badges. The first showed an eagle with two guns crossed behind it, over a banner with the word 'Waterloo' on it. The second showed a winged dagger over a banner with the words 'Who Dares Wins' and the third showed a thistle over a deer's head. Underneath was a banner with the words 'Cuidich n righ' on it. The figure had a long strait sword with a basket hilt (which Amy supposed was a fake) in a scabbard at his waist, and a row of medals on his chest. The left-hand medal was a bronze cross with a crown and lion inside, with a scroll on which was written the words 'For Valour'. But it was the stranger's face that first drew her attention. It was a long, thin face, framed by short brown hair and with a clipped brown moustache. The face was worn like old leather, with a long scar running down the left-hand side and a small circular scar on the right cheek. But the most striking feature of the face was the dark green eyes. They looked straight ahead (Amy noted that the stranger didn't look at her chest once), hard and utterly devoid of emotion. The whole figure gave the appearance of a ruthless, professional soldier.
"Your Painting?" Amy asked in confusion, glancing back at the painting. Then she saw the small picture by the side of the painting. It was the stranger. She looked back at him, confusion evident in her face. "Allow me to introduce myself," the stranger said, recognising her confusion. "Captain Alan Munro, VC, MC and bar, DSO and bar, currently commanding B Company of the 1st Battalion, The Highlanders Regiment of her majesty's British Army at you service and that," pointing at the painting "is a panting of me winning my Victoria Cross." Alan gave a little bow, and smiled. Amy noted however that his eyes remained as hard as ever.
Alan then told Amy the story of how one night when inspecting his company's Warriors (Note, Warriors are the British army's front line armoured personnel carriers (APCs). Each warrior weighs 30 tonnes, had medium amour, is armed with a 30mm cannon, a machine gun and carries a crew of 3 plus 7 passengers) a distress call had come from an American platoon that they were under attack from enemy tanks. Alan had called up the Warrior crews and led them into the attack. By careful manoeuvring he managed to get behind the enemy tanks (where the 30mm cannons could penetrate their amour) and then launched a lightning attack with his command tank in the lead. The enemy tanks were taken completely by surprise and after 4 of their tanks were knocked out the remainder retreated. The painting depicted a scene near the end of the battle. Alan had stood on top of his warrior waving a flare, in full view of the enemy, to provide a rally point for the American platoon. Thanks to Alan's quick thinking, tactical skill and courage the Americans were rescued for the loss of only one warrior damaged.
It was an astonishing tale, but what impressed Amy almost as much as the story was the way Alan told it. Alan hadn't emphasized his role, or tried to clam all the glory, but had told the story simply and straight forwardly. "Good thing I was familiar with tank combat, though last time I was in a Challenger 2 (Note, Challenger 2s are the British army's front line battle tank)" Alan said, laughing. "What do you mean last time?" asked Amy, confused. "My first regiment was an armoured unit" Alan replied, removing his cap and looking at the badges. "The Royal Scots Dragoon Guards (indicating the badge with the eagle) I joined them 10 years ago when I was just 21. Spent two years in Challengers, then moved to the recon section. Won my first medal with them, a Distinguished Service Order for the handling of my squadron in action" Alan continued "after three years I applied to join the Special Air Service (indicating the badge with the winged dagger), passed selection and spent the next four years with them, fighting all over the world. Everything from intelligence gathering to hostage rescue. Won both my Military Crosses while with the SAS, but unfortunately the operations were classified, so if I told you I would have to kill you. And I wouldn't won't to have to do that." Alan said, smiling. "After four years I left the SAS and was transferred to the Highlanders infantry regiment as a company commander (indicating the third badge). The motto is Gaelic and means 'save the king' by the way. I've served the last 3 years as the commander of B Company, winning another DSO for coolness and skill under fire while commanding a retreat. That's also where I got this (pointing to the scar on the left side of his face), shrapnel wound from an airburst mortar round. But enough about me, how are you enjoying the exhibition?"
Amy explained how she knew nothing about most of the exhibits, drawing a derisive snort from Alan. "What do they teach people these days? Well, why don't I take you round and tell you all about the exhibits," Alan said offering Amy his arm. Amy thought about at it for a second then took the proffered arm. "Led on then" she replied.

*********

Alan proved to be an exceptionally knowledgeable and interesting guide. Amy saw a painting of the 24th South Whales Borders stand at Rorke's Drift, where less than 150 men had held their ground all day against over 4000 Zulus, in the world's first edible fortress (it was made from biscuit boxes and bags of meal!). She heard the story of Assaye in India, where less than 6000 British and Indian solders, led by Sir Arthur Wesley (later known as the Duke of Wellington) had marched through a hail of cannon fire to rout a force of over 80000 Mahrattas. The crown of King Robert the Bruce of Scotland was on display, and Alan told how in 1314, with just 5000 men drawn from the length and breadth of Scotland, he had marched against King Edward II English army of over 20000 men and driven them back into England (to think again as the song goes). Amy was amazed by the story of Panfilov's Heroic twenty-eight, the survivors of and entire battalion of Russian infantry who, in the terrible winter of 1941 at the gates of Moscow destroyed 14 German tanks with grenades and Molotov cocktails (petrol bombs). The last of them to die was their leader, who crawled under a tank with a bundle of grenades and blew himself and the tank to peaces. But she was most surprised when Alan showed her the pictures of German heroes. As he was telling her about the famous German tank ace, Michael Wittmann, who at Villers-Bocage in Normandy destroyed 25 British tanks in a single afternoon, bringing their whole advance to a halt, she ask why Alan respected him so much. "Wasn't he an enemy of Brittan's?" Alan smiled and replied "I can respect anyone's courage, even my enemy's." Amy was impressed, not many people could respect their enemies.
Amy enjoyed hearing the stories behind the exhibits, but more than that she enjoyed how Alan told each story. In each case, Alan knew the background to each conflict, the tactics and strategies involved and even what weapons were used. But more than that, Alan had a real talent for storytelling. When he talked about Waterloo where British infantry that had spent the day under hellish artillery fire had stood firm and routed Napoleon's elite Imperial Guard with their murderous volley fire, the furious dogfights of the Battle of Brittan or the terrible tank duels of Kursk in Russia, where Hitler's army's had been bled dry, it made her feel like she was right in the thick of the action. She could almost smell the gunsmoke.
Alan had just finished showing Amy round the RAF section of the exhibit, housed in a small off-shoot of the gallery. The room was circular, about 10 meters in diameter, with a high glass ceiling and a number of heavy stone seats set at intervals round the room away from the walls. The pair were alone in the room which contained paintings of some of the RAF's most famous pilots and commanders such as Wing Commander Guy Gibson. Amy had been amazed by the story of how he won a Victoria Cross leading the famous "Dambusters" raid on the Möhne and Eder dams during the Second World War. Not only had he carried out his own bombing run, at extremely low level and in the face of heavy anti-aircraft fire, but he then flew ahead of the next two bombers as they each made the runs, drawing the defenders fire. But she had been astonished by the tale of Group Captain Douglas Bader. A fighter pilot during the 1920s, he lost both his legs below the knee in a horrific plane crash. Despite this handicap, he managed to re-join the RAF during the Second World War and led a squadron during the Battle of Brittan, becoming one of Brittan's highest scoring pilots. He was later shot down and captured over France. After several escape attempts he finished the war in the infamous Colditz castle, the top security German prisoner of war camp.
As they turned to leave the room, Alan suddenly grabbed Amy's arm and shoved her towards one of the stone seats yelling at her "GET DOWN!" Amy was caught completely off guard, by the time she realised what had happened she was already falling. A second later the ceiling of the room exploded.
Glancing up Amy saw figures dressed in black sliding down ropes, guns across their backs. Alan had happened to look up at the ceiling just as the attackers were setting their charges. His reactions, horned by years of combat, kicked in and he immediately dived for cover, pushing Amy ahead of him. The first five of attackers reached the ground and un-slung their guns just as a second wave started down the ropes. Amy ducked down behind the seat as one of the attackers opened fire, the bullets whipping overhead or cracking into the stone. She lay flat on the ground, hands over her ears, her mind whirling. Moments before, she had been enjoying a pleasant visit to a gallery with one of the most polite and interesting people she had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Now she was facing imminent death and the worsted part was she could do nothing about it. She had faced demons and monsters most people couldn't imagine in their worst nightmares. She had preformed unbelievable feats of strength and skill but lying here with bullets flying over her head, none of that mattered. Here, life and death depended not on strength or speed not even on skill. Here it all came down to chance. A single lucky shot could kill her just as easily as a child. Amy realised that for the fist time in years, she was scared.
Her train of thought was violently broken by a new trio of gunshots, louder and nearer. Razing her head she saw Alan crouched down behind the seat, firing a pistol (he had apparently drawn from inside his jacket). One of the attackers sliding down the ropes suddenly jerked back, blood flying from the back of his skull as one of Alan's shots hit him in the head. He hung there, suspended half way down the rope. The attackers already down fired a hail of bullets at him as he ducked back down, showering Amy with stone chips. Alan's manner had changed completely. His face had become a grim mask, the eyes positively glowing with a furious energy. He moved with the same sort of fluid grace and confidence that Amy herself displayed when fighting and he betrayed not one outward sign fear.
Alan pulled something out of a pocket and threw it to her. As she caught it, Amy realised that it was a hand held radio. "Press the button and tell sergeant McClain that I'm under attack," Alan yelled in a commanding tone, drawing a second pistol and rising up both guns blazing. Alan's voice steadied Amy's nerves, just as it had done to soldiers on dozens of battlefields before. Amy pressed the button on the radio and in a slightly shaken voice said "Sergeant McClain, Sergeant McClain are you there." A gruff voice with a hard Scottish accent answered "Who the hell is this and how the hell did you get this frequency!" Ducking down again as another hail of bullets flew over-head to be answered by Alan's pistols, Amy spoke again. "I'm with Captain Alan Munro in the RAF exhibit and we are under attack!" The voice on the other end of the radio paused for a second before replying. "What's the code word" Amy turned to Alan who was busy reloading his pistol. "The codeword is Flodden" Alan yelled, rising up and firing his reloaded guns again. "Flodden," Amy yelled into the radio, to be answered by a sharp curse. "We're on our way" replied the voice, just as Amy ducked as yet another volley slammed into the stone seats.
"Tell McClain there are 8 X-rays with body armour, gas masks and MP-5s, one near the door three on the right wall and four in the centre" called Alan, rising up to shoot again. This time however before he could fire, a bullet slammed into his shoulder. The force of the impact spun Alan round and he fell back behind the seat, blood leaking from the wound. Amy stared for a second at the blood, before Alan pushed himself up again. His face was contorted but not with pain, with rage. He saw Amy staring dumbly at him and yelled at "send that message NOW," shaking her back to reality. As she razed the radio and stated speaking, Alan smiled. "This is nothing, I've had worse injures from sex with my wife!" he said, rising up and firing once more. This time his volley of shots ended in a scream. "You can tell McCain there are now 7 X-rays"
Just as Amy finished relaying Alan's message the radio crackled and Sergeant McClain's voice reported "were at the room now, but the door is locked from the inside."  Alan swore and yelled at Amy "tell them to blow the bloody door down then."
As more shots came from the attackers, Alan yelled back at them "I'm going to give you one chance to surrender or face the consequences."  The firing died away to be replaced by the sound of laughter. Alan looked back at Amy and smiled. "Well, I gave them a chance." A second after Alan finished, the door to the room exploded.
The attacker standing next to the door died instantly, his body shredded by the blast and flying splinters from the door. Before the broken remains of the door had hit the ground figures were charging though bellowing war cries. They were tall men wearing a similar uniform to Alan's (though without the medals and braid) the light glinting on the bayonets mounted to their rifles.  The attackers stood stunned for a second before diving for cover, too late for one man gunned down by the charging solders.
As the room erupted with new gunfire a shout next to Amy attracted her attention. It Alan, bellowing orders to his men. He had dropped the pistol form his right hand and drawn his sword instead. Amy saw immediately was a beautiful (and very real!) double edged broadsword, with a heavy 36" long blade, clearly a masterfully made and very lethal weapon. Suddenly, bellowing "Scotland Forever!" at the top of his lungs Alan vaulted over the stone seat and ran at full tilt strait towards the nearest enemy. After a split-second, Amy followed him over the seat and into the fight.

* * * * * * *

Alan reached his target first, swinging his sword down just as the figure turned. Before the man even had a chance to scream, Alan's blade slammed into the side of his neck shattering the spine and severing several major blood vessels. The force of the blow threw the man sideways; he was dead before he hit the ground. Over in one corner of the room one of the attackers, his gun jammed backed away from two Highlanders who seamed to have forgotten the guns in their hands. As the man reached the wall he started jabbering for mercy, then screamed as the bayonets went in. The next man turned and razed his gun, but Alan backswung his heavy sword knocking the gun to one side as it fired. One of the bullets nicked his arm but he didn't even notice as he stepped forwards and delivered a massive kick to this opponent's groin. As the man staggered back, Alan razed the pistol in this left hand, paused for a second to let his opponent see his death coming, and put a bullet though the right-hand lens of his gas mask. One of the enemy turned his gun towards Amy but she grabbed it before he could fire, crushing the barrel. Before her opponent could recover, Amy delivered a short, sharp punch that knocked him clean out. Glancing round she saw that the fight was over. One enemy was lying on the ground, a bullet hole in his forehead. The only other survivor was face down on the floor, Alan's pistol covering him.

Silence descended on the room, but it was instantly shattered by Alan shouting orders. Two solders grabbed his prisoner; one covered the unconscious form at Amy's feet while the others started checking the remaining bodies for weapons. As Alan came over to her, Amy realised that she as shaking. Alan put an arm round her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze while holding something up. She realised it was a hip flask. "Drink this, it's good for the nerves" Alan told her. Amy took a sip and immediately started coughing on the fumes from the strong whisky. As she shook her hear to clear it Alan noticed the mangled gun at her feet. He bent and picked it up, not seeming surprised at the damage done by Amy's hand. "I thought there was something unusual about you, you had the same aura of power my wife has and she can bench a truck. Just how strong are you?" Alan asked. Before Amy could answer, on of the solders searching the bodies called out "Sir, I think you should have a look at this" holding something up. As Alan and Amy got closer, they saw I was an amulet that appeared to be made of jet back glass. "What the hell is this?" Alan said holding the object up to the light. But Amy recognised it instantly. "It's an Obsidian talisman, it makes the wearer totally immune to all magic." "Magic" Alan responded incredulously, and then a thought struck him. He bent down next to another of the corpses and checked the man's neck. Sure enough he had a talisman just like the first. Amy realised that she had been feeling strange, almost weakened since the start of the attack. She hadn't noticed at the time (being to busy avoiding bullets to notice much) but now she understood that the talismans had been blocking her magic. Straitening up and turning to face Amy he said "I don't think you being here tonight was an accident. I think that someone sent you that invite to get you here, and then sent these men to kill you. The only question is why." As Alan finished speaking he suddenly head the sound of running boots. A second later a dozen armed police swarmed into the room shouting. As Alan hurried over to deal with them he called to one of the solders "Private Harries, escort Amy back to her hotel and guard her tonight. I want her at the barracks by 1000hours tomorrow. Whatever this was about must have something to do with this magic and since she is the nearest thing we have to an expert she can advice me. Whatever this was about, it's not over yet!"

End of part 1

I all ready have the plot for part two worked out but unfortunately I am both a slow and a lazy writer. Therefore you should not expect the other part anytime before mid 2007 at the earliest.

[simon]

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[simon]

It has been a while since I wrote a story about these two.   Pretend that the rambling, flawed story Virago Vistas was never written.

Tia's Takeover
by simon
_______________________________________

     Chad sat in a velvet upholstered couch in his mansion and watched the news. He flipped through approximately 200 channels before finding an obscure South American Channel men's bodybuilding competition.

     "What's the point,"  he scoffed to himself.  He recalled the last twelve years as an experimental virus was used to enhance soldiers, but spread and mutated into an amendation to the human genome that caused women to be larger than men on average.  Back then, a six foot, 200 pound woman was considered short.   

     At that moment, the golden door creaked as Tia shoved it open.  "Good morning, sweetheart".

     "Hello, love."  Chad stood up and ran his hands into the muscular, billowing thighs of his wife.  The titaness latina knelt down for a kiss.  Chad grinned as her lips reminded him of a moist hot water bottle on his forehead.  "Where have you been?"

     "It has been an exacting day, and it isn't even eight yet," Tia stretched her extensive limbs until they nearly grazed the vaulted ceiling and sat next to the couch.  Chad jumped onto one of the spreading bulges of his wife's posterior and nestled against her flank.  Tia continued, "Some miners were trapped by a seismological event, so I had to disinter them by shearing off lithosperic impediments.  By the time I saved the workers, I had removed so much pressure that rockbursts ensued, so I had to press the landforms together to reequilibrate the pressure, and after that, the mining company complains that I metamorphosed the deposits of the ore they were mining!  I'm esurient.  Feed me!"

    Chad went into the kitchen grinning ear to ear, and dragged out the refrigerated chamber several awkward crates of food.  He opened them,  and stretched out on her bosom and faciliated every bite of breakfast.  Down her gullet vanished gallons of pancakes, milk and ice cream.  Tia loved frozen desserts.  Tia patted her vental curves gingerly to signify her satiation. 

     "If you keep eating like this, you will become a big, fat cow."  Chad hurled a pillow at his wife's face. 

     Tia shrugged, muscles rippling under rippling embonpoint  "Oh well, You are what you eat.  Besides, I'm only four percent body fat by mass.  That's quite lean.  If I didn't have all this cuddly insulation, my muscles and bones would pulverize the infrastructure around me.  I couldn't go outside. 

     "You don't have to be a five meter avatar of sex appeal."  Chad carefully dismounted the platform of flesh and squeezed Tia's proporionately small spare tire.  The result of the cuddling sent a tsunami through her poitrene.

     "Of course, a weaker,  more compact form might be more convenient, but you're so good to me.  Catering to your most intimate fantasy is  the least I could do."

     "More like our fantasy."  Chad smirked.                 

     "Quiet, sub!"  Tia said in mock indignation.  She removed the mumu that was draped around her body, and reclined on the floor.  "You know what to do."  She purred, lifting her husband with a single hand and placing him at the top of a heaping tower of mammary.  Chad stood up and stimulated an engorged nipple with a motion similar to butter churning. 

     "Yes!"  Tia whispered passionately.  A tangible frisson traveled the length of Tia's body, sending Chad rolling onto the couch.  She brought her flawless face   "This birthday's only going to get better; I have a surprise for you this evening that will blow your mind."

     Tia looked into Chad's cutely lecherous eyes, flexed her arms seductively, and added.  "Oh, you will definately get that too, but the surprise is something even better that I've been preparing for several years.  You'll just have to wait."  Tia went to her room and changed into her sports outfit, a bricolage of parachutes and esoteric alloys used to contstruct space stations.  "I'm going for a jog now.  Chad watched Tia through the window, admiring her rapid, powerful strides as her oceanic curves sloshed around effortlessly.   

[simon]

COME ON OVER
by simon
A VERY short story featuring Saffron
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"Come on over " said Alex. " We can sort it out together. And anyway, two heads are better than one"

"O.K." replied Saffron " I'll be there in about 15 mins"

"The front door is open, so just come up to my bedroom and we'll see what we can do"

"O.K.  I'll see you shortly"

Saffron put down the phone, found all the right books and set off to Alex's house



When she arrived the front door was, indeed, open, so she walked in and up the stairs. A trip she had made only a couple of times before, but Alex seemed to be becoming a good friend over recent weeks. Saffron was happy that she had someone to hang out with and she had to admit that she liked Alex's company.



Saffron knocked gently and popped her head round the door to see Alex sitting at her desk with her head in a book.

" Hi Saffron" said Alex, as she looked up, "Come in. Pull up a chair. It's great to see you"

Saffron grabbed a chair and sat next to her friend at the desk.

"Which bit have you got to?" enquired Saffron

"Erm..... I've done the circumference thingy" said Alex sucking the end of her pencil  "but I'm stuck on this triangle stuff.



As Saffron found the right place in her book, Alex watched the muscles of her arms ripple beneath the fabric of her blouse. She was fascinated by the size of her new friend and wanted to feel her tight skin SO much. When they were together, she took every opportunity to touch Saffron as often as she could. But touching clothing is not the same as touching warm skin.



Alex didn't really want big muscles of her own, but on Saffron they looked great. Alex was happy with the way she looked.  She was the same age as Saffron and the same height. She had long dark brown hair, which she usually wore loose; brown eyes and an athletic figure. She played Netball and Volleyball and was known to run a pretty good 200 meters on the track. So she was well toned, just not big.



"----Theory"

"Erm....pardon " said Alex as she stopped staring at Saffron

" That'll be Pythagoras' Theory " repeated Saffron  " something like –"" the length of the hipotemus equals the length of the sum of the other two sides""

"Riiiiiight " said Alex....I proberly wasn't listening when we did that bit"

"As usual" kidded Saffron. For which she received a playful thump on the shoulder.

"Who is this Pythegerous bloke anyway?" Said Alex and stood up, giggling.

She stood behind Saffron and said  "Sorry. I didn't mean to hit you" and placed her hand on her powerful shoulder.

"No problem" replied Saffron as she flicked through the pages of her book, presumably looking for just exactly what Pythagoras' Theorem actually was.

She continued looking at the pages as Alex's hand slid round to the top button of her blouse and undid it and as the next button was undone, Saffron felt the tingle between her legs. Alex's warm hand was now touching her skin in search of the next button. It felt good and as Saffron flexed her pecs gently, she heard a little gasp escape from Alex's lips.



Saffron stood up and faced the other lass, her heart beating a little faster and the tingle growing. Alex undid the remaining buttons and slipped the blouse from her friends' powerful shoulders. She could do no more than stare as Saffron flexed her pectoral muscles. Hard ridges of beautifully defined and separated power bulged on her chest. Alex gasped again as Saffron made her pecs bounce individually. She was mesmerized and did little to help as she had her own clothing removed. It was only Saffron's warm, wet, kiss on her pert pink nipple that snapped her back to the here and now. Her own heart was racing and her pussey felt damp and as Saffron took a step back and popped a double biceps pose, the first drip of her juices touched her inner thigh. She watched as forearms and biceps swelled into mountains and strong, thick veins snaked across her skin. She saw Saffron's shoulders rearrange themselves into peaks and troughs and her lats flared like wings.



Alex could not resist the temptation any more. So, without taking her eyes off the magnificent muscular girl in front of her, she reached for the bottle of baby oil on the bedside table. She popped the lid and poured a stream onto the hard chest, the slight chill as the liquid touched her skin caused Saffron's nipples to harden and as Alex placed her hands on her pecs a little moan squeezed from her mouth. Very slowly Alex spread the oil, feeling every separation, every vein and lingered a little longer on Saffron's hard nipples, which hardened even more as they were gently caressed. Another drip of juice found its way down Alex's thigh as she oiled massive biceps, which swelled and undulated beneath her sensitive fingers. Saffron's super hard lats and beautifully developed serratus didn't escape Alex' attention. Another stream of oil was applied to her spectacular abs. Six solid slabs of muscle danced and rippled beneath Saffron's skin with valleys between them that Alex could loose her fingers in. Gently, tenderly, lovingly, Alex rubbed in the oil. How could muscle so hard feel so good? The glistening oil enhanced her beauty even more.



Alex slid her hand down the hard, vascular lower tummy and under the waistband of her friend's skirt. Saffron's knickers were damp too and now they were oily. Her scent was intoxicating and Alex was a little surprised when Saffron pulled away.  She thought she might have gone too far but Saffron was only removing her skirt and slowly --oh so slowly, removing her under-garment.

There it was, her perfect pink pussey. Shiny with the mix of her juices and oil and pouting with anticipation.



Saffron sat on the edge of the bed and flexed her thighs. Alex straddled her legs and with more oil on her fingers, she explored the mountains and valleys of muscle that were Saffron's quads. They felt as hard as granite and were chiselled to perfection. She raised her legs a little further and felt Alex's wet thighs, so soft and warm. She longed to taste the sweetness and stood up again. She placed her powerful hands on Alex's hips and lifted her effortlessly off the floor. Pecs, shoulders, and biceps rippled and undulated beneath her tight skin. The undiluted show of strength made Alex even wetter. She realised what Saffron was doing and hooked her thighs over her shoulders. With her hands on Alex's bum, she moved her friend closer and began to tease her lips and hard little clit with her tongue. She had never tasted another lass before. This felt good. This felt VERY good. This tasted exquisite. Warm, slightly salty and so silky smooth.  Saffron stopped caressing one of Alex's cheeks and moved her hand down towards her own sex. The oil felt good beneath her fingers and as she followed the contours of her abs, she made a mental note to use oil on herself next time she was alone and feeling horny. Her hand continued downwards and found her ever-moistening pussey. She could not resist rubbing on her clit. The effect was sooooo hot. The harder she rubbed, the more juice flowed down her thickly muscled thigh.



Alex was breathing deeper and encouraging Saffron to probe deeper into her hot wet pussey. The deeper Saffron licked, the louder the happy sounds came from Alex. The burning inside grew. Her orgasm was VERY close. The undulating muscles of Saffron's back against her legs sent her over the edge. Her thighs tightened against Saffron's head and the full force of her juices gushed from her. For a moment Saffron gasped for breath and her massive muscular chest tensed sending a fresh wave of juice flowing from Alex. It tasted good as she swallowed as much as she could.



With cum dripping from her cheeks and chin, Saffron moved to a position where she could lay Alex on the bed.  So, placing a hand in the middle of Alex's back, she bent forward. Muscles in her back, shoulders, thighs, glutes and tummy danced and bulged. Very gently she placed her friend on the sheets and gently caressed her satisfied body, kissing and stroking her pert, tip-tilted breasts, her flat tummy and her shapely thighs and calves. All the while her long blonde pig –tails tickling Alex's tender skin.



Alex lay for a little while just enjoying Saffron's attention, happy to just watch her magnificent muscles ripple and bulge and dance. Eventually she slid her hand beneath the pillow and produced a large penis shaped dildo. Saffron smiled hugely and cooed expectantly. When Alex turned it on the end wiggled sexily and the whole thing vibrated and when she rubbed it over Saffron's nipples, they grew really hard.



Saffron flipped onto her back and spread her legs. Alex knelt beside her and ran the humming dildo up and down her body, sending shivers up and down her spine and making her pussey even wetter. The intense pleasure that the huge cock, wiggling and vibrating against her clit produced made her gasp. Alex teased the tip of the plastic penis between Saffron's wet lips and worked it around a little. She felt a little resistance as she pushed it a little deeper. Saffron gasped again as her insides were stretched a bit, but the pleasure far outweighed the pain and her strong fingers held Alex's and urged her to go deeper.



Alex moved so that she was kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed. That way she could better see Saffron's pussey as she fucked her friend until her shoulders ached. Slowly at first, then faster and faster Alex pushed the dildo in and out of Saffron's pussey. With each thrust she could see the lower part of Saffron's tummy bob up and down as the tip of the huge cock went further in. Saffron was enjoying the hugeness, tight inside her and assisted by thrusting the massive plastic cock still deeper.



The burning sensation grew deep within her. Her pussey muscles clamped tight around the massive cock. So hard had she gripped it that Alex couldn't pull it out. All Alex could do was sit back and watch as every one of Saffron's muscles flexed and grew and bulged. With her heels on the bed her back arched, her monstrous thighs undulated, her calves bulged and with little effect she tried to hold back the scream that meant her climax was arriving. Alex ducked as the big plastic dick exploded from her pussey and slammed into the wall next to the door the other side of the room, breaking into pieces.  Showers of white hot cum squirted from within her and covered Alex's face and chest. The warm liquid ran down her tight body and formed a puddle at her knees.  Saffron bucked and squirmed and rubbed her clit. Another stream erupted from her quivering pussey. Alex just gapped in awe as the final trickle dribbled down her leg.



Breathing deeply, her spectacular chest heaving, Saffron said

"OOOhhh, that was sooooo good"

But Alex had her face buried between Saffron's muscular thighs and was sucking and swallowing noisily

"Mm mmm rhm ymmmhm " replied Alex, but she had her mouth full  "I am REALLY glad you came over" she repeated.  But Saffron was asleep, wearing a hugely satisfied smile on her face. Alex curled up beside her enjoying the naked warmth of the muscular girl she had just had a GREAT experience with. She slept too...dreaming of the next time.
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Good story! Very sexy. I love a good lesbian muscle worship story.

[shu]

A Trip To Manila
By Simon
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Last year, I was in Manila on my birthday and my wife, who's Filipina herself, asked me what I'd like for my present. I told her my fantasy was to watch her arm wrestle another pretty Filipina.

This came as no big surprise to Mila, who knows I'm a huge arm fan, but she'd never arm wrestled a stranger before, so she said she'd chose the opponent. "I don't know who wins in your fantasy, but I'm going to win in real life," she laughed.

The next afternoon, I got back from running an errand and Mila told me she'd challenged our maid and she'd agreed to a contest the next day for $25.

I was surprised that she picked the maid because she was a very pretty girl in her mid 20s, about 20 years Mila's junior, and just about the most athletic woman we'd seen on our visit. Mila stands 4'11 and Maria, the maid, was about an inch taller. Both weighed in the neighborhood of 100 pounds.
When she arrived the following morning, Maria entered the room, locked the door, and removed her uniform blouse. Was I ever right about her athleticism. She had a firm, trim physique and ripe breasts that looked succulent in a sheer black bra.

"Wow," was all I could say. "For $25, you get to see her boobs, honey," Mila said. "And mine, too, of course."

"For $25, you see me win and you see my muscles," Maria said with a beautiful smile. She hit the classic make-a-muscle pose and I was floored by the hard, rounded biceps that popped from her thin but firm arms.

"Alright, girlie, let's see those muscles at work," Mila said with a smile. She was wearing my favorite tank top, the powder blue one that made the most of her breasts and her sexy little arms. I knew she wanted to show me just how strong she really was.

I started them and watched as their little biceps swelled beneath their tan skin. Locked in combat, each of them bulged to about 11-1/2 inches, which still looked awfully impressive on their petite frames.

Mila had a clear advantage in the early going, and for a moment I thought she was going to take Maria in one motion. But the maid was a fighter and soon they locked in for a serious battle. Before I knew it 30 seconds had gone by, with Mila taking Maria to about a 45 degree angle.

I watched transfixed as my wife struggled to bring Maria's arm down still further. But while Mila was straining furiously, Maria seemed to be holding on. And after a few more seconds, I noticed a determined look on the pretty maid's face.

Mila must have felt something shift because she muttered to herself and pressed harder, but her foe's arm began to slowly rise. Within another 10 seconds, Maria was back to the neutral starting position and pressing on.

Now it was Mila's turn to panic. She shifted her shoulder, but Maria buckled down and made it a battle of bicep versus bicep. This is what I had hoped to see and it began to become clear that Maria's arm was the stronger of the two.

I was astonished that these two petite women were so evenly matched in raw strength. But only one would emerge victorious, and with determination, Maria started to press her advantage.

"Not so strong, huh?" she said suddenly, and I was shocked. She had a smile on her face, and had turned this into a muscle beauty contest.

"Now you're not so sure about this," she continued. "I show your husband..."

Mila was groaning from the strain, but momentarily slowed Maria's progress.

"...your husband will see who the better woman is, huh?" she teased.

I wondered how Mila would respond, but what I saw blew my mind.

"Get ready, girlie," Mila replied, squeezing with all her might. "You're in for a beating."

And just like that, Mila's rippling arm began to rise. Maria fought back, determined to make this a short-lived advance, but she couldn't. Within just a few seconds, Mila had gotten back to neutral, and now was pressing Maria's arm back down.

I watched the muscles strain in Maria's neck and she battled to keep her arm from being stretched further, but Mila was clearly back in charge.

"Now who's the better woman?" Mila replied from between clenched teeth. "It's over."

Maria desperately tried to gain back some leverage, but it was too late. Mila gave one final grunt, put her shoulder behind it, and crushed Maria's arm down to the table top.

Maria got up, shook hands with Mila and said "You were the better woman. That was a good match." Mila hugged her and gave her $50. "Keep the change, you earned it," she said.

That night, Mila clearly relished her victory and we both enjoyed a wild and passionate celebration that included plenty of flexing and muscle worship. She had responded with fury when she was challenged, and overpowering a beautiful rival clearly brought out the best in her.

[FLEAO]

nice stories! im waiting for part 2 of the hellfire fanfic