Interesting Story

[kot5510]

Daya 2

By Atastretch
This is a sequel to the story Daya, in which you met your wife-to-be in Indonesia at a dating agency and discovered her amazing abilities in a very dramatic way! Now you are married to a beautiful and very strong wife who is devoted to you, is keen to develop her strength further and loves to find ways to excite you by demonstrating it.   

We came back from Indonesia, and two weeks later we were married. Soon afterwards, I sold my apartment in Manchester and we bought a small farm in Yorkshire. With my self employed consultancy business, I could work from anywhere. Daya had been brought up on a farm and that's the kind of work she wanted to do. She did it single handed, with no labourers. It was very seldom that she asked me for help and those were occasions when two people were needed, she couldn't be in two places at once. Sometimes I would sit down at the dinner table in the evening and say something like "Whew, I'm whacked!" I had a pretty sedentary life, usually sitting at the computer all day. It occurred to me after a while that I never once heard Daya complain of being tired. She seemed to have boundless energy, and she needed it, as the farming job was hard and required long hours. There were livestock to tend, fences to repair, crops to sew and gather, ground to clear but Daya did it all herself, without complaint. I used to call her "My little powerhouse" and, though it sounds corny, it's true that every day I would count my lucky stars that I'd managed to find Daya, that day in the Denpasar dating agency office. I know it sounds ridiculous but there was not a single fault that I could find with her. She was kind, loving, affectionate, generous, thoughtful, sensible, intelligent, unselfish, beautiful and most remarkably of all, strong, very strong indeed. All these traits endeared her to me and she in turn was overjoyed to be so admired and loved, in spite of her muscularity and strength, which had put off all of the men that she had met before me. It seems that they looked upon her as some kind of freak - and she probably made them feel inferior at the same time. I had no such feelings; I was completely in awe of her abilities, appearance and lovely nature. I could not imagine a sexier woman and our sex life was very intense and busy. 

It goes without saying that she gave wonderful massages, having worked as a masseuse in Denpasar and having such strong hands. But there were other more unusual aspects to our relationship, thanks to her physical abilities. When it was time for me to take a shower, I often found her waiting for me. We had installed a bar above the shower area especially for her little performances, which were designed to excite me. I would walk in and she would be smiling seductively, standing there or hanging from the bar. Sometimes she would be naked, sometimes clad only in a tiny bikini and sometimes dressed in easy-to-remove clothing. She knew how sexy the slow revealing of her beautiful body could be. It started with her gradually stretching her body out before me, by transferring more and more of her weight to her arms. It was so exciting, the way her stunning body changed to become even more stimulating as it extended before my eyes. Her normally flat tummy turned concave, her ribs became more distinct, her breasts rose and her lovely muscles showed more clearly through her stretched skin. When she was hanging from the bar, her navel was elongated into a thin vertical slit and I could see faint outlines of her abdominal muscles. 

Then we started little games designed to excite me even more. She would set me strength challenges, then proceed to beat my performances. This really brought it home to me how difficult the things were that she could do and how amazingly strong she really was. For instance, she asked me to simply hang from the bar for as long as I could. I felt the sensations of my body stretching out, felt the strain in my fingers and forearms as I struggled to keep my grip. She moved close and stroked my ribs and tummy and I shivered with pleasure. I usually managed a little more than a minute before my grip gave out but I experienced a strange sexual thrill in the last moments, as I struggled to hang on. I was remembering that night at the Bali canyon and how our very lives had depended on Daya hanging onto the rope. So I knew from experience that this was pathetic compared with Daya's abilities but, as she took my place, I could better appreciate the feelings in her body and how, as she had told me, there was a sexual sensation associated with the stretching of her abdomen and chest. She looked so gorgeous, hanging there, that on a number of occasions just that sight was enough to send me into orgasm. Of course she easily beat my minute, in fact I never got to see how long she could hang here, as she considered it a serious waste of time to spend so long doing nothing. That also went for hanging by one hand; Daya's grip strength and endurance were phenomenal and it seemed to me that there was no limit to the amount of time that she could suspend her bodyweight in that way. Next, she asked me to hang from the bar, then she climbed on a chair, put her arms around my body and lifted her feet, wrapping her legs around my waist. I couldn't hold our combined weight for long, the pain rapidly built up in my hands and my fingers were prised apart in a matter of seconds, but I enjoyed her lovely body pressed to mine and the more intense stretching sensation her added weight caused. Then she would hang from the bar and wait for me to reciprocate. I can hardly describe the feeling of approaching the beautiful, stretched out body of my smiling wife, knowing that she wanted me to hang from her and increase the pleasure that stretching gave her. As I put my full weight on her, squeezing her breasts upwards into lovely mounds between our chests, her head would flop back, her mouth would open and she would sigh with pleasure. I could feel the firm softness of her muscles and the warmth of her body, as I marvelled that my little five foot nothing Daya could support the weight as my five foot eleven frame, for many, many, many times longer. She would deliberately undulate her body whilst we hung there, because she knew that would excite me even more. I usually climaxed very quickly, she never showed any sign of discomfort or fatigue during the short time I was able to cling to her, she only made expressions of pleasure and arousal. When I climaxed, I often squeezed her so tightly that it would cause her to orgasm too. Then we would get down and shower together.

We moved on to pull-ups, where I was a complete failure, hardly managing to bend my arms at all. Daya could do loads, she loved me to stand right in front of her and massage her breasts whilst she did them. Then I tried playing water from the shower on her and using soap as I massaged, she loved it and the combination of the stretching sensations, my hands caressing her bulging biceps, voluptuous, shiny, slippery, firm breasts and my obvious awed worship of her body and power were often enough to push her over the top into an orgasm. That's on the occasion when we managed to get that far, I usually broke down fairly early on in the proceedings. We found that we could accelerate her arousal by using colder and colder water, until her nipples really stood out and her skin developed goose pimples. It seems that the cold tautened her skin and made it feel more stretched. I even rubbed ice on her lower abdomen once, but afterwards she told me that she didn't like it, she'd just endured it for my pleasure. It's true that, although the cold water technique worked to arouse her more quickly, it also had the same effect on me, as I knew that it was exciting her and could see the sexy changes it made to her body.

I don't know of any other woman who can do a pull up with someone of her own weight or greater hanging from her, but Daya can. I doubt if you can begin to appreciate how incredible my experience of this really is. After all, I have just explained the effect that watching her hanging from a bar has on me, then of hanging from her whilst she is suspended by her hands, then of watching her do pull-ups. How can I now describe the overwhelmingly stimulating combination of all of these things? At first, I could not survive one pull-up without losing control of myself. The sheer raw power of her gorgeous, voluptuous body hauling us upward, the vibration of her solid, bulging biceps and the determined look on her beautiful face were devastating. And so it was that it took a while before I realised that one pull-up was just the start of her capabilities. She stopped each time I had an orgasm but, one day when my resistance was a little higher and I did not come by the time she slowly lowered us from the bar, she immediately began a second pull-up. I couldn't resist the stimulation any longer and had an even more intense orgasm than usual, satisfying her so much that she also came, with much trembling, halfway to the bar. I don't think she ever did more than three pull-ups with me hanging from her but, though the third was noticeably more difficult for her than the second, I had the impression that she could have done at least one more. Daya wanted to keep that in reserve for future enjoyment, I suspect.

Then there was the breathing. Her breasts were stunning but she discovered that I found them even more stimulating when she expanded her chest and they were thrust out towards me. The effect was enhanced when she wore a really tight, non-elasticated top. The breasts had nowhere to go as her chest expanded, so they started to bulge over the top of her garment, seemingly about to burst from it. It sent me wild on some occasions, to her great pleasure. We experimented with breath holding, where she would fill her lungs to the maximum, hold it for as long as she could and then release, which was always followed by a lot of rapid, really deep breathing, causing her breasts to rise and fall delightfully. Then she started clasping her hands behind her back and pushing her elbows as closely together as she could. This also thrust her chest out towards me, then she combined it with breathing in and the tight top and WOW! She couldn't do this last one whilst hanging from the bar, though, so she had a think then rigged up something else in the shower. It was an adjustable bar, parallel to and below the hanging bar and at just below shoulder height, that could be moved forward horizontally. We tried it out. As she hung from the upper bar, I pushed the lower bar forward on its rachet until it contacted her shoulder blades, then forward some more. Her hands were holding her arms back, whilst the lower bar was pushing her body forward. "More!" she said eagerly, so I moved it forward another couple of clicks. It was having a delightful effect; the front of her body was stretching out, her breasts thrust forward and all her ribs showing through her taut skin. Over the next few days, we really enjoyed ourselves, increasing the forward position by just one notch per day, to extract the maximum pleasure from it. We combined our new toy with breathing activity and another new one, me rubbing baby oil all over the front of her body, especially her breasts! I was worried, though, as we moved the bar progressively forwards, contorting her lovely body more and more. "Doesn't it hurt?" I'll always remember what she said to me then, and has said many times since. "Beauty is more important than pain". I was amazed, she endured much more than I would have thought, in fact we eventually moved the bar all the way forward to the last notch. She was an incredible sight, arms pulled painfully back above her head, her gleaming breasts thrust forward way in front of her chin and straining to burst over the skimpy white silk band I'd tied around them. Her ribs were more prominent than I'd ever seen them and her tummy was really concave. We tried that position several times, using oil or soapy water, hot and cold, but the deep breathing was somewhat difficult for her because she was so contorted. Luckily, she usually didn't have to endure it for very long because it was one of the most sexy positions she ever managed to adopt for me, which meant that I came really quickly, usually almost as soon as I laid my hands on her voluptuous, oiled breasts, if not before. However, this was a bit of a problem for Daya, as the position, though stimulating for her, was quite painful so it distracted her too much to allow orgasm.

Daya's ingenuity came to the rescue once more when, a few days after we first moved the bar to its maximum position, I found her waiting once more in the shower, with a broom in one hand. "Wait-see!" she admonished, when I tried to get her to tell me what she intended to do with it. A minute later, she was hanging from the bar, fearsomely arched back with breasts thrusting devastatingly forward against the narrow band tied tightly around them. Then she directed me in how to use the broom. I could hardly believe it. Standing in front of Daya, I rested the brush on the ground near to my feet, leaned the handle forward towards her then placed the rounded end of the handle on her lower abdomen. "Lower!" she gasped, so I moved the panties lower on her hips until I could see to finally place the handle seven inches below her navel. "Yes, now push!" she said, and I started to push the base of the broom towards her with my foot, so that it gradually pushed her body backwards, the broom becoming more upright. It was too difficult, so I used my shoulder to push her tummy back and up, whilst moving the broom. Suddenly I felt a fluttering over my back and realised that the silk band had given up the unequal struggle with Daya's breasts. But at last the broom was vertical and in position. Daya was gasping but had not told me to stop. She was now arched back to an amazing degree, her hips pushed back below her hands and held up by my shoulder. How could she possibly endure the pressure of the broom handle? I gradually removed the support of my shoulder, so that her weight rested on the one inch diameter rounded handle end, pressed into her lower belly. It sank deeper and deeper in, creating a profound valley between her lower abs. She groaned as it thrust more into her belly, until at last I stepped back and there she was, impaled on a stick that was putting enormous pressure on her powerful abdominal muscles. Her face was a picture of mixed pain and pleasure, her eyes closed and mouth open. I stared, dumbfounded, at the deeply bifurcated abdomen, the ribcage set to burst through her stretched olive skin and the exquisite breasts, no longer covered, jutting out so invitingly upwards and towards me. I expected her to call for relief from the awful position almost immediately, but to my astonishment she began to swing her legs backward and forward, with more and more amplitude, until she was almost lifting off the broom handle. The pressure on her belly must have been enormous when it was just resting on the handle but now she was rhythmically thrusting her weight down on it, increasing the force terribly. And as her legs swung back, her poor body was being bent backwards yet more around the pole. I think that the only reason I hadn't ejaculated already was because I was in a state of shock. But no man could have witnessed a sight like that for long before losing control, which I then did. Daya's face was contorted now, red with strain, and perspiration was breaking out all over her body as she built to the greatest orgasm she had ever experienced. She screamed and went rigid at the point where her legs were at their highest, way up behind her, maximum weight bearing down on the handle. I could see her upper and lower abdominal muscles quivering and bulging out, trying to force the pole out of her belly. After maybe five seconds in this terrible position, she began to thrust her hips out time after time and arch her body still further back, legs still held up behind her, seemingly trying to push harder down onto the wooden pole. The hip thrusts were becoming more violent and she was crying out, tears streaming down her face. It seemed to go on for ages but I guess it was about thirty seconds of increasing force and rapidity of hip thrusts before she froze again, head thrown right back with a gurgling sound coming from her wide open mouth. Her bulging stomach muscles were in spasm, her whole body trembled with the tension it was under and her full breasts, glossy with perspiration, wobbled tautly. I achieved a personal record by coming for the second time in less than a minute. Ten seconds had gone by when suddenly she stopped gurgling, her head snapped forward and she somehow took in an enormous breath, her shimmering breasts rising by four inches. She was holding the breath, her teeth clenched into a grimace, then I noticed that Daya's biceps were bulging and her arms were beginning to bend very slightly at the elbows. She began to tremble more and more violently, her face a picture of terrible effort as her arms continued to bend very slowly. She let out the breath in a great gasp then took in a seemingly even greater one, her lovely breasts leaping up towards me again. What was she doing? Her face was reddening, she seemed intent on bending her tortured body yet further back around the bar. Suddenly she threw her head back, stiffened and screamed, her cry accompanied by a splintering of wood as the bar at her back gave way to the final impulse of effort from her incredible body. The broom fell away at last and she swung limply below the bar, body shaking and chest heaving. She managed to raise her head. "You like?" she asked with a weak smile. I staggered forward, lifting her hot, damp body up as her arms fell limply around my shoulders. I carried her to the bed and laid her on it. I examined the nasty bruise that was already forming on her flushed lower belly. "You okay?" I asked with a frown. "A bit hurting" she smiled faintly, "better not do again for while."

One day she came to find me in the kitchen, just after lunch. She was bubbly and full of excitement and wanted me to come out to the barn to see something. There, in the middle of the floor, was a calf, one of those that had been born the previous week. "What?" I asked, reasonably. She led the calf over to one side of the barn, next to the ladder that led up to the hayloft. "I made new exercise programme" she announced with a dazzling grin. "Every day will get harder so I will get stronger and stronger," It was difficult for me to imagine a stronger Daya but her desire to constantly improve was another of her great qualities. She was looping a strap around the animal's belly and one about her own hips, then she clipped the two together. Next, she reached up to the chin-up bar she had installed beneath the hay loft and, with a little hop, hung from it, the animal right next to her legs and the straps now taut. The animal must have weighed at least 40kg, but Daya heaved with those incredible arms of hers and lifted it from the ground. She was groaning with the strain but managed to lift her chin to the bar. The animal struggled momentarily but settled down quickly, obviously becoming accustomed to this strange procedure. I felt my body reacting immediately to this show of strength from my lovely wife, despite her being dressed in baggy working clothes. Suddenly there was a loud CRACK! and Daya and the calf tumbled to the ground. "I got to fix a stronger bar." she grinned, unlinking the straps and dusting her trousers off. "Wow!" I commented, disappointed by the sudden interruption to her show of strength, "I can't wait to see you do that in a bikini!" "Yes!" she enthused, "I will do this two-three time every day. Every day will be harder because calf will get bigger." "How long can you carry on doing that?" I frowned, "this calf is going to grow into a very big and heavy cow." She flashed another achingly beautiful grin. "I dunno how strong I can get but I try. I get as strong as I can for my nice husband." We kissed and I hugged her strong and curvy body close to mine.

Next day we went out before breakfast, Daya wearing her fluffy pink dressing gown against the chill of the frosty morning, our breath visible as we hurried to the barn. "I fixed it!" she pointed out, gesturing towards a very solid-looking metal bar, as she went to fetch the calf. "Looks like you could hang an elephant on that" I said, meaning it. This time she had fixed the bar a couple of feet higher and had hammered together a simple but sturdy stool, which would enable her to reach it easily. She returned and, standing with the calf below the bar, removed her gown with a flourish and a smile. Just the sight of her in my favourite tiny white bikini was enough to invoke an immediate reaction. Her body was even more magnificent than the first time I had seen it, beside that valley in Indonesia. Her smooth olive skin undulated over the gorgeous curves of her lean five foot frame. I marvelled once more that I had managed to find and marry such a lovely creature. She looked me straight in the eye, gripped between finger and thumb the thin cord holding the bikini bottom around her right thigh and pushed it down a good three inches, her smile broadening as she revealed yet more of her flat lower abdomen. My jaw sagged a few more millimetres and I swallowed; she was learning fast how to push all my buttons! Quickly assembling the straps she stepped up onto the stool and, straightening her legs with some effort, lifted the calf from the ground. The beast was good as gold this time, its hooves just swaying gently a few inches above the floor. Then Daya reached up to the bar. I gazed, transfixed. Would I ever get used to this? Her breasts rose, her ribs became more clearly defined, her upper abdomen turning concave and her waist thinned as her arms rose. I could see the nipples pressing against the bikini, close to the upper edges. Was it the cold air or was it the sexual excitement she felt in anticipation of stretching her body this way? She clasped the bar in that incredible, vice-like grip of hers, the muscles in her shoulders, upper and lower arms bulging gently, then she took her feet off the stool and her body changed again. The same changes were amplified, her short frame seeming to stretch visibly under the weight of her own body plus that of her bovine load. Her lovely navel stretched and deepened as her waist thinned and dual vertical columns of abdominal muscle faintly appeared on either side of it. Then she heaved herself upward with those amazing arms, the biceps springing into sharp relief as she somehow performed the weighted pull-up. Her head dropped back and she groaned as she strained to complete the lift, the effort also evident in the tendons of her neck. I was never sure whether she made these vocalisations naturally or whether she used them, knowing how much they turned me on. Well, I had been achingly turned on since a few seconds after she took off her gown and the feeling had been increasing steadily ever since! Daya was letting herself and the animal down in a slow and controlled manner; then she began a second pull-up. I was in ecstasy watching her, knowing that I was incapable of performing even one ordinary pull-up myself. Her beautiful body danced with musculature as she exercised her remarkable strength. She seemed to be finding this a tough lift, I noticed as she executed her third pull-up, her face showing the strain. A thought occurred to me. "Next time, look at me and smile as you lift." I suggested. As she reached the dead hang position, she gave me her most meltingly beautiful smile and began the fourth repetition. Her expression never changed throughout the lift, she didn't even blink and she was completely silent as she rose smoothly, shaking slightly. I noticed that she was slowing down. Her face still fixed in its expression, she rose again, a fifth and sixth time, each taking slightly longer than the last. She was trembling more now and, even in the cold morning air, perspiration was running down her flushed face. Despite its riveting attraction, it was difficult to gaze for long at that beautiful face when she was wearing that bikini. She was beginning to breathe more deeply and rapidly now and her perfect breasts were pushing hard at the small white triangles. The seventh pull-up was markedly slower than the sixth and I thought I spotted her smile waver for a moment as she neared the bar, but I couldn't be certain. I was so excited that she was putting on this show of control for me! I wasn't sure how much longer I could control myself. The descent from the seventh pull-up seemed faster than earlier ones. She started on the eighth but it was slow and her arms were shaking more than before. Her smile remained but her eyes were slightly narrowed as she gasped through gritted teeth "Help me!" I knew what she wanted. Daya and I are so wonderfully compatible in our desires. She is turned on by the physical sensations of using her own strength, by demonstrating it and by the fact that it excites me. She loves my eager attentions to her body, which are so passionate when I know that she is pushing the envelope of her abilities. She has a heightened sense of touch when stretched and finds any stroking very stimulating, especially on the breasts, abdomen and inner thighs, and needless to say I love to caress her gorgeous, straining body. Her desire to be as attractive to me as possible is very strong and if I show how excited I am by her body, this gives her the will to surpass what might otherwise be the normal limits of her strength. By the time I had crossed the barn to her side, she had completed a very difficult eighth pull-up, but was somehow still smiling, though perhaps not as radiantly as when she began. As she descended, I stepped onto the stool. Trying to ignore the calf, I gripped the warm, thick muscles of her shoulders, squeezed and gave her a long passionate kiss on the lips, leaving her gasping for air when I stopped. "Again!" I commanded, "no need for the smile this time". "I want to smile for you", she gasped, the lovely smile returning to her reddened face. I stepped down and ran my hands slowly down the sides of her ribcage, then her waist to her hips, then the tops of her thighs, stopping at her panties. I pulled them down a fraction more, then turned my attention to her abdomen. As she slowly rose for the ninth time, her whole body trembling, I ran my fingers over her lower belly, pressing them hard and rhythmically into the grooves between her abs. Somehow, she rose to the top and chinned the bar, still smiling. When she had let herself down, her deep, laboured breathing, red face and trembling were the only clues to the amount of effort she was expending. I would not have been surprised had she stopped at that point, but she didn't. I reached up and gripped the thread holding her bikini together, between her breasts. I started pulling down on it as she began to rise. Her smile disappeared for a moment as she gasped with pleasure and effort, glancing down as her breasts were squeezed together by my additional downward force. I reached up with my other hand and began to lightly massage her already prominent left nipple through the thin material of her bikini. She shuddered, hanging there, stuck in the half pull-up position, her smile looking terribly strained now. I increased my downward pull and whispered "Come on Daya, you can do it". Her breasts were bulging defiantly against the loaded bikini as she threw her head back, groaned with effort and slowly, so slowly, began to rise again. I pulled down harder, until I thought I would break the thread, but she just groaned louder, trembled more and kept rising. It was too much for me, I orgasmed very pleasurably indeed and released the bikini. Daya, chest heaving, completed the pull up, dropped to the dead hang position and, crying out with her own orgasm, tensing every muscle in her body, began her eleventh pull-up. I watched in awe as she slowly rose, body convulsing as waves of ecstasy surged through her. I knew what she would love me to do, so I stumbled forward and, clasping her waist just above the hips, pulled downward to stop her. Body bucking violently now, roaring with pleasure, she strained to defy my attempts to hold her down, to no avail. Suddenly she went rigid and jerked a couple of inches upward, her hips thrust forward and every muscle in her body popping out into sharp definition. This lasted maybe six seconds before she and the calf dropped suddenly to the ground. The calf took it really well. Daya got up slowly, beamed at me and flopped into my arms. "My incredible wife!" was all I could think of to say, as we embraced.

Over the next weeks Daya practiced lifting the calf at least three times a day. Despite her busy and strenuous tasks around the farm, sometimes she managed as many as five times, in an effort to improve on that very first performance. I believe she managed fourteen consecutive pull-ups at the most, with that animal, and that was after it had put on a few more kilos. I tried to watch as many of her sessions as I could physically endure, never mentally tiring of her demonstrations of beauty and strength and in awe of the way her already great strength was increasing. As the beast became heavier, of course the inevitable happened and Daya, despite enormous efforts, had to reconcile herself to the fact that she could do progressively fewer pull-ups. I particularly remember the time when the calf tipped the scale at 110kg, the sight of Daya desperately trying to achieve a fourth pull-up. I think it is probably the most amazing thing I've ever seen. To see a stunning 5 foot tall woman in a tiny bikini hanging from a bar with a 110kg calf suspended from her is one thing; to see her achieve a pull-up with that weight is another. When she then repeats that pull-up, using God knows what reserves of strength and endurance, then repeats it again, well, the sight is mind-blowing. But then, despite almost not completing the third one, when she sets her mind on achieving a fourth, that is something else. For my Daya is the most determined person I know, she does not excuse herself any weakness and seems to believe that she can will her muscles to do anything. Her initial attempt at a fourth pull-up came to a grinding halt halfway up, despite straining, goggle-eyed, for thirty seconds to go higher, she could not. Letting herself down, she only waited about five seconds before trying again, with predictably less success than before. For a good ten minutes she hung there, the massive calf dangling below her patiently whilst the sweat poured off her trembling body and ran down the animal's sides. How on earth she could hang on for so long, trying and trying, always holding out hope that, despite her exhaustion, she could perform another Herculean pull-up, I cannot conceive. She struggled time and again to force her biceps to raise the awful load, they were already pumped up from her previous efforts, the tendons in her arms stood out like seething snakes, her breasts bounced upward with the shock as she suddenly flexed her mighty arms, seemingly in the hope of surprising the weight. How she didn't pull a muscle or tendon I'll never know. Her waist, already thinned by the strain on her body, was concave in the upper part and perfectly flat below the navel, apart from the two bulging columns of her abdominals and the deep valley between them. When she strained to rise, her breasts rose, her ribcage jutted out still more and the concavity deepened, her lower belly also sinking in, giving her an even more stunningly shaped profile. I was riveted to the sight, on the verge of orgasm for the whole time. I was feeling exhausted just watching. Tears mingled with the perspiration channelling down her face and between her cleavage. For the last minute of the ten she had just been hanging there, chest heaving, chin drooping. Why didn't she just accept it? Suddenly she threw her head back and thrust her chest out, arching her body backwards and let out an indescribable cry, heaving herself and the calf upwards once more. This time it was different; though it was very, very slow, she was rising higher than her last few previous efforts. And she went on rising! Her whole body was shaking badly and she was slowing down, but she was still going! My heart was in my mouth, as she ground to an excruciating halt three quarters of the way up. Her head came up, her chest rose and fell rapidly, pressing her breasts through the gap between her upper arms, threatening to squeeze them out of the bikini top. Her gasps were the only sound, except for my rapidly beating heart. Somehow holding her position for a few seconds, she suddenly repeated her move, inching her way painfully upwards once more but again stopping short of the top. Her sweat was pouring off her in a constant stream now and she was sobbing. A third attempt to rise higher went badly wrong and she dropped to the three quarter position again before managing to agonisingly slow her descent to a halt. Her chest was heaving continually, she was shaking violently and crying with the effort of just holding herself there, but still she did not give up. Another titanic effort brought no result, except that her breasts now bounced free, the bikini top having fallen away. Her nipples were very erect. Twenty seconds went by, she seemed to be dropping still further until another shock passed through her body as her iron will forced her amazing biceps to make yet another desperate effort. Silently this time, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clamped, shaking violently, she steadily rose almost all the way to the bar before once more slowing devastatingly to a halt. She strained and strained to go higher for a few seconds, to no avail. Then her head dropped back, her eyes bulged wide and her mouth dropped open. With an almost inhuman groaning sound, her body shaking terribly, she rose agonisingly slowly to chin the bar at last. As soon as her chin touched the bar, she let herself drop to the dead hang position. Somehow she kept her grip and her body was momentarily stretched by the impulse her own weight and that of the massive falling animal. It would have torn the arms of any ordinary person out of their sockets, but with Daya just had the effect of momentarily revealing her musculature in amazing detail, making her ribcage almost burst through her stretched skin and causing a shower of perspiration to fall from her gorgeous body. In that instant, all the muscles in her beautiful abdomen were more plainly visible than I had ever seen them before; I could make out the abs below her navel so clearly. I ran forward, helped her down, released her harness then carried her, arms flopping, to a pile of straw and laid her down. She was still trembling and twitching and her eyes were fluttering and white. Gradually her heavy breathing levelled out and she managed a smile. "I did it!" she said, then closed her eyes and fell asleep.

I asked her the next day if she could explain how on earth she had managed to achieve the pull-up after having already failed so many times and seemingly exhausting herself. I thought that she must have a different kind of muscle from most people; I had heard that some athletes have denser muscle, or something, that enables their muscles to produce more force than those of ordinary people. She wasn't able to explain it, beyond telling me "It is in my head". A few weeks later, Daya was down to one pull-up with the calf, then next week she could no longer do it. I won't describe the last, failed attempt, incredible to behold as it was, because what followed was even more interesting. Daya came to me a few days after that, obviously disappointed by her failure. But she had not given up hope. "You can help me do it" she insisted. "Your love can make me stronger." Of course, I agreed to help and that afternoon, a particularly hot one, I remember, we made preparations in the stifling heat of the barn. It was several days since she first failed to lift her chin to the bar with the calf strapped to her and the beast must have put on even more weight since then. Despite my awe of her, I didn't see how I could help her do any better than she had already done. She wanted to attempt it naked and asked me to me to bring the baby oil. When I came back, she was already hanging there, glowing with perspiration and looking incredible, with the calf swinging below. "Put oil on all over, then more on breasts and tummy and say nice things about me and how much you love me and you know I can do it and I got to do it for you." I complied. I had never oiled Daya with such a heavy load before and it was wonderful, feeling the breathtaking contours of her stretched body, the taut skin with her bulging muscles pushing out against it. I had no difficulty in saying nice things about her, in telling her I loved everything about her, in kissing her passionately and in enthusiastically massaging her stretched, muscular abdomen and gorgeous, perfect breasts. I was ecstatically turned on and all this was certainly having an effect on her, she was breathing rapidly, moaning with pleasure and had started writhing erotically, to the extent that the massive load allowed her body to move. "I can do it!" she gasped. "Yes," I replied, "my beautiful Daya, so strong, she can do it!" My right hand pressed its fingers into the gaps between her slippery abdominals, barely sinking into the firm flesh at all, whilst my left tried to encompass her shimmering right breast, which slipped defiantly this way and that, its nipple fully erect by this time. Daya was getting more and more excited, her chest heaved with deeper breaths and her moaning was louder. It was at this stage that I couldn't hold back my orgasm any longer, but I struggled through it to complete my role. I was getting the idea, I must finish this before she got too tired. "Daya my love, you must lift it now, if you love me, you must lift it, for me Daya, for me, my beautiful, strong Daya, now Daya, now!" I moved both hands to her breasts and caught the nipples between thumb and forefinger, squeezing and kneading. At that, Daya's body stiffened and began to rise, slowly but steadily, her gleaming biceps bulging and shaking with incredible exertion. She was completely silent, her mouth open, eyes closed and a look of ecstasy on her face. I kept up the pressure on her nipples and the encouraging words. "Yes, my Daya is doing it for me, she will do it for me because I love her!" But Daya rose more and more slowly and it looked like she was not going to make it to the top. Her shaking was increasing and her expression was changing to one of pain. "Please Daya, please do it for me if you love me!" I squeezed the nipples harder and buried my face in her cleavage, her breasts hot and resilient. Her head was dropping back, her eyes open and a worried, almost desperate expression on her face. She was still rising but so slowly now and she was groaning with the enormous strain. She was really shaking and had almost stopped. "Don't stop Daya, you must do it, for me Daya, for me." Millimetre by millimetre, the ascent miraculously continued, with Daya's beautiful, glistening, naked body straining fit to burst. I had never seen her shake so badly before and I suddenly feared that she might burst a blood vessel. Her chest heaved as she breathed in a great gulp of air then she started screaming with the effort - and still she rose. It must have been at least half a minute of titanic struggle so far, her endurance was incredible. She was so close now and had begun to undulate her racked body to try to make those last few millimetres. Yes - she had done it, her chin vibrated against the bar and I roared my appreciation and compliments! To my amazement, she held the position, continuing to scream and writhe, as if she did not realise that she had achieved her goal. After about five seconds, she stopped screaming and began to descend with unbelievable slowness, her body racked by spasms, the sweat pouring from her reddened face. At one stage she started to speed up a little but only for a moment, her head dropped back and she started screaming again as her self-inflicted torture continued. She had just descended past the quarter pull-up position when, to my horror, she suddenly fainted, bounced off the Calf's back and landed beside it on the floor. I rushed to her side and was relieved that she came round quickly. She smiled weakly and said "That was for my loving husband".

After that, even Daya had to admit that she could not do any more pull-ups with that calf. That didn't stop her from using the calf, or perhaps I should now call it a cow, in her exercises. We had rigged up a six pulley block and tackle, fitted with scale to measure the weight being suspended from it. Daya would sit on the cow, I would secure a strap under the beast between Daya's ankles, she would grip a bar on the base of the block and I would haul them upwards until the cow's hooves left the ground. This was supposed to test her grip strength but it also tested my sanity. Despite the sixfold mechanical advantage of the pulley system, it was quite an effort for me to lift the two of them up and I can't begin to imagine how Daya could hang onto the bar. It was clearly not easy for her and the time she endured decreased over the weeks as the animal fattened up. By the time the scale read 250kg, her endurance was below two minutes. But this was a total weight of ¼ tonne, an incredible weight! That was not the only thing that was doing my head in. The sight of my wife's body being stretched out by over four times her own weight attached to her ankles was almost too much to bear! Dearest Daya had made things worse by trying to maximise the effect her body had on me (again) and insisted in shuttering the windows of the barn and using spotlights to show off her body at its best. She had me oil her down beforehand and would wear only the skimpiest and most fragile bikinis, making the snapping of threads and the bursting out of her lovely breasts a frequent occurrence. As I hauled at the rope and the weight dependent on her increased, her body would visibly stretch, her waist would thin, her breasts would rise and squeeze together and her muscular definition would increase. The lighting was merciless, revealing the slightest undulation of her ribcage and abdomen and accentuating her breathtaking cleavage with deep shadows. Her abdomen was particularly exciting in this light, her sixpack gradually resolving into an eightpack as the weight increased and the depth and length of the valley between her left and right abs relentlessly increasing. Daya herself found the stretching sensation and the struggle to hang on very erotic and would let out moans of pleasure and would often have mini-orgasms. Added to that, she would deliberately make herself look as sexy as possible, to bring me added pleasure, in turn exciting herself more when she observed my reactions.

But the cow was only half grown! You cannot imagine the wonderful times we had over the coming months, as the cow put on yet more bulk. I had to upgrade the pulley, as it became too difficult for me to hoist them! Of course, Daya's grip strength proved to have limits, which she fought valiantly. On one almost unbearably erotic occasion, a full fortnight after she had repeatedly failed to keep her grip at all, she actually succeeded in hanging from the bar for a full ten seconds. But it did not end there, as she insisted in designing and sewing leather cuffs to enable her to be hoisted by her wrists. She had to adjust the design a couple of times before they were comfortable enough. The next goal was to see how much weight she could bear to suspend and for how long, an endeavour that worried me. "I don't want you to hurt yourself" I pleaded, "you must be careful, I don't want to lose you." She laughed, then became serious when she realised my concern. She looked up at me with her big, dark brown eyes and beautiful face. "I'll be fine" she said sincerely... Well, there were so many amazing occasions during the remaining growth period of that animal but one in particular demands to be reported. Daya wanted to see if she could support herself plus the cow with just one arm. I pleaded with her not to do it; I explained how, in medieval times, people had been tortured by stretching on the rack until their arms had been torn from their sockets, ligaments ripped apart. She insisted, though, saying that she would not go that far, she would tell me to lower the pulley if it got too much for her. Needless to say, after her previous demonstrations of how much pain she could take and continue to invite more, I was not reassured. For her one-armed attempt, she had chosen a tiny pale blue thong. As I raised her off the ground, I had to stop several times, leaving the pulley on the ratchet, to adjust the thong where it passed over her right breast. Suspended by her right arm, her body curved sharply to the left and the thong kept slipping from over her right nipple. In the past I had seen Daya's muscular and skeletal definition increase dramatically as her body was stretched but on this night even those experiences were surpassed by the tremendous stress she placed on the right side of her body. On this evening, the cow weighed 280kg and this was being added to her own bodyweight. I gingerly pulled on the rope and the harness tautened. I continued slowly, feeling the weight of the cow really coming in and making me work harder to raise the cuff, dragging Daya's wrist upwards whilst the cow was holding the rest of her down. I could see her hand rising, see her ribcage jutting out, see her lovely abdominals bulging as the cow remained stubbornly rooted to the ground. That thong was easing its way to the centerline of her body again, the nipple was about to pop out and I was struggling to fend off my orgasm. Her right breast was being increasingly vertically stretched and I could see the elliptical outline of her nipple through the thin material. Both her nipples were erect and she had her eyes closed and mouth slightly open. As I pulled harder one of the cow's hooves left the ground, then a few moments later, another. It was getting really quite hard to pull down on the rope now, despite the fact that we had replaced the six wheel pulley with an eight wheeled model some weeks back. Daya groaned sexily and I could see the muscles in her thighs, abdomen, back, shoulder and all the way up her arm bulging as she tensed her muscles. In order for her joints to survive this terrible strain, she knew that her muscles and tendons must take as much of the load from her ligaments as possible, so she was going to have to flex them as hard as she could. As I watched, I could see that she was increasing her efforts. Her muscular definition grew before my eyes, the striations and vascularity becoming more visible all over her body. She gasped loudly a couple of times as I continued to pull harder on the rope. "Stop!" she shouted suddenly and I looked at the expression of pain on her face. "Shall I let you down?" I asked anxiously. "No... Okay, pull more." I gingerly continued, suddenly noticing that sweat was stinging my eyes. Her body looked incredible, her corded muscles reminiscent of ropes about to snap. I imagined the tension in the mooring rope of a great ship, its fibres rubbing over one another, dust popping off its surface. A third hoof lifted from the floor and the cow and Daya began to rotate slowly, something that had not happened before as she had always been stabilised against rotation by using two hands. "Stop!" She called again, an increased note of urgency in her voice. I was very worried but knew that I had to rely on Daya's judgement about whether to continue or not. This time she hung there gasping for at least thirty seconds, breathing heavily and trembling with the tension she was having to maintain. "Go!" she said at last, then "Stop!" almost immediately. I considered saying something but we had discussed all this before. A few seconds later she told me to continue. Her body had rotated so that her right side, the one which was under such awful strain, had turned towards me. I gasped at the clarity of the ribcage. The skin was looking pale and tissue thin. Her back was a sea of trembling, detailed musculature and her bulging upper arm looked more powerful than I ever remembered seeing it before. As she rotated, she was suddenly side on to me and I marvelled at how much her waist was thinned by the terrible load that was stretching her. She looked like she was being pulled in half! How her arm joints were taking this I couldn't understand, the sustained strength of her arm muscles must be awesome. From her face I could tell that she was clearly under terrible strain but she had asked me to continue so I pulled down harder on the rope. It seemed to take ages of increased tension, with more and more groaning and gasping and trembling from Daya, but she didn't tell me to stop again - and suddenly the last hoof swung free of the ground! Tears were rolling down Daya's reddened face but she raised her free left hand and pushed down the button of a stopwatch that she was grasping. How long she intended to hold the cow I had no idea, I just watched in awe as her one arm supported over 1/3 of a ton and her beautiful face showed the ever increasing pain in her body and the agony of maintaining the tension in her muscles. Her chest was heaving and suddenly the thong slipped down the inner curve of her the right breast, fully revealing the remarkable extent to which it was elongated by the awful load. Now that I had only to stand and watch, there was no distraction from gazing at her astonishingly stretched body. The taut wobble of her perspiration coated, distorted breast, suddenly revealed, was enough to at last push me over into orgasm. Daya was hanging on, trying to prove something to herself or me, pushing her beautiful, incredible body as far as she could once again. Suddenly I noticed that one of the cow's hooves was on the ground again. Something was stretching out, I did not know whether it was the suspension rope or Daya's body! I knew that Daya would want me to prevent this so I pulled on the rope again, suddenly remembering how heavy the load was. This time I lifted the hooves a good foot from the ground. Daya gasped at the jerk, then weakly groaned "What?" I explained and, to my dismay, she reset the stopwatch and started it again. She was already trembling much more than she had been when she had begun the timing before. Over the next few seconds, I watched transfixed as the effects of the awful stretching became more and more apparent in the increased trembling, perspiration and muscle definition of my brave wife's lovely body. Her face showed the pain and effort and will power necessary for the feat and her right hand had turned purple. Yet on and on she went; I had for some reason assumed that she might be attempting ten seconds but maybe she would go for twenty... Surely she couldn't endure a minute, especially after that false start? Now she was weeping with the pain and effort and her whole body was vibrating badly. There! one minute! But she didn't stop! Her abdomen heaved with the sobs now and she was whimpering. I couldn't take it any longer. "Stop!" I cried, but she just looked at me and shook her head once, making tears fall from her face. I noticed that the cow's hoof had dropped to nine inches above the floor. I realised that I was fully aroused again, so walked up to Daya and placed my hand on her ribcage, running my fingers over the deep undulations in her drum-tight skin. I slid my hand up to her heaving right breast. It was so stretched that it felt solid, like a muscle, and the nipple was like a bullet! My hand passed to her abdomen, a mass of hard, pulsing mounds, wet and hot and separated by deep depressions. I looked at the stopwatch and it was reading over two minutes! Daya's body had now ceased to vibrate in a regular way but was spasming in sheer agony, as she tried to push herself beyond human endurance. If she were to allow herself to reduce the extreme tension in her arm muscles slightly for an instant, it would be torn from its socket. But she was clearly losing control of her body. I stepped back to the rope. Daya was now screaming again and again and undulating her ripped body, to a remarkable degree considering the extreme tension it was under.  It was an incredible sight and I reacted with a second orgasm. As I doubled over with pleasure surging through me, Daya pressed the button on the stopwatch and screamed "Down!". I fumbled the rope badly and to my dismay, took a full five seconds to lower them far enough that the first hoof touched the ground. Daya was screaming continuously and writhing violently all this time and for a few seconds afterward, until I had reduced the tension on her body sufficiently that she could relax. I took her heaving body down and released her poor right hand. "I okay." she mumbled, blinking back the tears.

By Atastretch
September 2015

[kot5510]

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[Wookey]

Wonderful story. Would love to see the next chapter .