Worked Out
By Apocalypse Orgasm (apocalypseorgasm@hotmail.com)
Sexist Demi-God finds his position as King of the Gym threatened.

(Not first story written in the genre, but my first story submitted. 
Included because it’s actually a complete entity rather than a fragment. Any 
feedback and thoughts would be appreciated.)

Hercules finished his hundredth repetition with a grin, big-thick bicep 
curling beneath his skin. He dropped the 500 lb barbell to the ground and 
flexed his arm beside him, as if daring anyone to even dream of flexing in 
his presence. He watched with pleasure as the muscle men of the gym looked 
away as they struggled to accomplish a hundredth of what the demi-god had 
just performed.

He walked over to the cooler, taking a deep sip of water, letting one of the 
gym’s regular fitness models run her hands over his arm admiringly. Her eyes 
were wide as she did so, lips pursed just so. Hercules felt tempted to let 
the girl have a second chance with him – perhaps soon. She’d gagged  on his 
cock first time they got together, his thickness proving a little too much 
for the cheerleader, and when he’d fucked her, she simply couldn’t handle 
him – crying between her ecstasy. That was a year back. Since then she’d 
turned herself from a fit, beautiful woman into a genuine fitness model. 
She’s had implants to bring her above his favourite DD and worked seven days 
a week in the gym until she was a crafted hard-body. And every night she 
went home and worked on her technique with the biggest dildos she could 
find. Yeah – maybe it’s the girl’s lucky night soon.

Hercules realised for a second the girl wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were 
looking behind him. He turns slowly, feeling her fingers glide off his arm.

He couldn’t believe it – someone was daring to use *his* weights.

He knew that people did when he wasn’t there, of course. Some of the 
body-builders wanting to show off tried hefting them. And a few of the men 
who were really juicing could even manage a single arm curl of the weights 
before collapsing. A couple could even go for the second, if they didn’t 
mind spraining their arm.

But to do it in front of him… it was unthinkable.

What was even more unthinkable was the sight of someone not just playing 
with his weights, but using them. The 300 lb weight moved up and down 
slowly, unhurried. He stomped over – “What on earth are you playing at?”

The woman looked up at him.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m working out.”

A woman?

It was a woman – that he was sure of. The eyes that met his gaze was proud 
and arrogant and confident, but it was a green eyed woman’s gaze. The hair, 
a shock of blonde hair, was a perfect as the hardbody beside him. The lips 
wide, eyebrows arch. And – scanning to the front of her lycra work-out top – 
her breasts were massive.

Just that the rest had more muscle than anything else he hadn’t seen in a 
mirror.

She was big. Really big. While defined and powerful as he’d ever seen a 
woman, in terms of sheer mass there was as much of her as any man in the 
room – and the room featured some of the manliest men on earth. But just 
because there was a lot of her, she still formed a womanly hourglass, waist 
thinning from the shoulders and widening to the hips. It’s just that the 
waist looked like armour-plating and the shoulders were sheathed in muscles.

But it was the arms that caught his attention. The could hardly not,  The 
bicep curled slowly, dwarfing every man present. Every man except him.

“Yeah – but they’re my weights. I was using them.”
“I thought they were gym weights. Available to anyone to use them… and I am 
using them. So…”
“That’s not the point…” He caught himself running his eyes over the woman’s 
body, the big-titted hardbody forgotten. His mind wandered. He’d never had 
anyone like her. This immediately made him want to.
“Right – let’s put it like this. I’ve always used them. So I’m half-way 
through my set now, so should finish”
“Well – I’m using them now. You had a break. This is just idiotic. I mean…”
“There’s got to be some way we cal settle this.”

It was at this point both parties realised they had, subconsciously, flexed 
their arms before them, as if displaying their worth. They smiled,

“Reps until one can’t match? Winner gets the gym. Other comes back later.”
“Done.”

And Hercules hefted his dumb-bell, turning to face the woman, drawing the 
weight before his face. His opponent matched it. And slowly, lowered it, 
both raising simultaneously.

“ONE!”

***

He was gasping harder and harder, the last rep like fire, his bicep peaked 
and hard. It was as pumped up as big as he was going to get. He’d never been 
bigger.

He looked back at the girl, and despaired that with each long curl her arm 
pulsed, filling her up, pushing it. So big – he couldn’t believe it. And she 
wasn’t even peaked yet. And now she was as big as he was…

He fought hard, hoping she would collapse, moving up one slow final curl, 
bicep shaking like an earth-quake – only to stop half-way. He couldn’t find 
the strength to move further. The woman stopped level with him then, raising 
an eyebrow, slowly lifted it further up to a last curl. And the bicep 
peaked. And she was bigger than he ever dreamed of being, a hard diamond of 
flesh. The peaking had added a further few inches to her and she was 
immediately noticeable as a harder arm than Hercules.

He looked down, realising that his shorts had split through his exertion, 
cock before him angrily. Without saying a word, the woman started again, 
returning to the pace earlier in the competition of arm curl after arm curl, 
monstrous arm flexing full and hard.

Hercules fell to his knees, looking up, and didn’t even have time to 
masturbate before her ejaculated, a stream of spunk hitting the woman’s 
chest, drenching her body. She smiled victoriously, the rivulets running 
down her.