Rudy's Night
By Lomax
Heather easily beats up 4 men while Rudy watches


Heather's stone-hard, chiseled muscles glistened slightly with sweat as she
lifted weights. A short distance way, across the gym, she was being watched.
Rudy couldn't believe his eyes. He had always fantasized about stunningly
beautiful women who were far stronger than him, but he didn't really think
they existed, unless this was some kind of bizarre illusion.

Heather was about 5'5", and looked like she weighed in at 125 or so, in other
words, an ideal body. But never had Rudy seen a girl that was so ripped, or
even a guy for that matter.

Every facet of Heather's body was cut like stone.

Her arm reached down toward a barbell that was on the floor. Rudy's mouth
must have dropped open when he saw her hard, muscled arm reach down for it,
because water dribbled onto his leg where he was sitting, at the shoulder-
press machine, across the room. She was wearing a black cap-sleeved workout
half-shirt, and as she extended her arm the rounded curve of her shoulder
pulled out from the sleeve and her entire arm flexed as she stretched it out.
Rudy couldn't see how much weight was on the barbell, but there were clearly
more than one disk on each side. His brain fuzzy, Rudy desperately tried to
compare the size of the weights to those that he could see racked against the
wall, to calculate the total, but...it looked like a 30 - or was it a 40??! -
on each side, plus a 10 or 12, but - that meant... - the total was...85? no -
65? Jesus Christ, Rudy realized with a sudden gust of clarity - if those are
40s, and 12s, it would be 104!! Pounds! Her left hand, the one she was
reaching down with, closed around the bar and she curled the barbell, smoothly
and easily, to her shoulder. Her bicep bulged insanely, and Rudy took an
involuntary sharp breath at the sight of it. Then, still holding the barbell,
Heather got to her feet, casually and as if she was holding nothing heavier
than a book, or something. She reoriented herself in front of the mirror,
then curled the weight again, then straight-lifted it up over her head, then
all the way back down to her waist, and then she repeated the whole thing.
Her arm looked hard as steel. Rudy struggled to focus on the weight he was
trying to lift. He had 80 pounds on the shoulder press machine, and he banged
out 7 more reps. She switched the barbell to her other hand, and started on a
set. Fearing that she would notice him staring, Rudy desperately tried to
pretend to concentrate on his own feeble lifting.

To Rudy's dismay, Heather abruptly pulled on her sweatshirt and left the gym.
Rudy immediately abandoned his workout and went to follow her, but not before
investigating the barbell - he had to know.  He walked over casually, as if
to select some free weights to curl, and saw the barbell still on the floor
where she had left it. As he sat down with a 25- pounder, he inspected the
huge barbell. His worst fears were confirmed: there was a 40 on each side,
plus a 15! making the weight of the entire bar 110 pounds! He tried to lift
it, and could barely get it off the floor with both hands. His head swimming
with the memory of Heather lifting it and curling it with one hand, he
suddenly remembered she had left and he was supposed to be following her!

She left the gym, carrying her bag over her shoulder, and walked quickly
away. Why the rush? wondered Rudy, hurrying after her. He was trying to be
inconspicuous, but was acting far too impulsively to accurately monitor
himself. At the end of the block, as she was about to turn into the alley,
she suddenly turned around. "Yes???" Why are you following me? What do you
want?" she confronted him. "Um" Rudy said, not sure how to respond. "I
just..." "You just what?" She asked, and started to smile. She clearly was
not afraid of him. He got the sense she was about to recognize him from the
gym. Just then, they both sensed the presence of others, and looked up. Four
men had come into the alley, and silently they surrounded Rudy and Heather.
Rudy backed away involuntarily, until he stood slightly behind Heather.

"Ah ha, what a wimp" said one of the men, a grizzled, big guy, about 190,
maybe 5'10". He was missing two teeth, and had a knife in one hand. Rudy
glanced nervously from one to the other of them, and then back to heather.
"What do you guys want?" he asked with as much bravado as he could pull
together, stepping in front of Heather. The four guys all stood surveying
him, with grins on their faces. They all looked to be in their 30s, all
well-built, dangerous-looking, all bigger than Rudy. The guy with the knife
was to the left. One of the other guys fingered his pocket. "Get outta the
way, dickwad!" he said, and swept Rudy out of his way with the back of his big
left hand. His shove sent Rudy sprawling, into the wall. As he bounced off,
one of the other men kicked him in the chin. His head shot back and he
slumped against the side of the building.

Rubbing his chin, Rudy lifted his head and looked up - he couldn't tell
whether more than a moment had passed. The men were ignoring him, leaving him
for unconscious. They had Heather surrounded. "Give us your purse, bitch!"
the tallest one said. He got right up in her face and stood smiling down at
her, holding his hand out for the purse. He snatched at it. Heather's purse
was hanging over her right shoulder. She turned her body so that he missed
the purse, and then she stuck her left shoulder into his chin. He jerked
back, annoyed and jolted. As he rubbed his chin in rage, Heather stripped off
her sweatshirt and put her purse down on top of it. Her muscles glistened
under the dim streetlight. There was nobody else aorund. it was quiet. The
men's eyes traveled over her hard, chiseled body, and a doubt passed over
them. But it was quickly overtaken by testosterone, rage and lust.

"I'll kick your ass, bitch" said the tall man.

Heather put her hands on her hips and smiled. "You want the purse, come and
get it," she invited. He made a lunge toward her, trying to grab the purse
while simultaneously shoving her out of the way, much as he had Rudy, but as
he swung at her with his left hand, she brought up her right arm, so that
his forearm crashed into her right bicep. She flexed it, hard, and his arm
bounced off and the impact sent him staggering back a few steps. She flexed
again, and then beckoned him with the fingers of her right hand. Furious, he
charged at her, and swung wildly for her face. Without moving her body,
Heather stepped into his blow and deflected it easily with her right hand. 
She stood, facing him, ignoring the other three who were watching, to her
left. "Well?" she challenged him. "I thought you wanted the purse...are you
not 'man' enough to take it - from a woman?" She smiled seductively at him,
and flexed her arms in a double biceps pose.

As her came for her, trying to tackle her to the ground, she stepped aside,
but caught his undercarriage with her right arm and wrapped it around him.
Squeezing and flexing her bicep, she corralled his body with her right arm,
then, with a sudden curling movement, lifted him up onto her shoulder. She
was holding his arms immobile at his sides, her arm twisted up in a bicep-
flex posture. She flexed her bicep, hard. As her rock-hard muscle expanded
suddenly into his rib cage, he screamed with pain. Turning to face his
buddies, she held him easily, ignoring his squealing. Rudy was just watching
breathlessly from up against the wall, trying not to draw attention to
himself. However, one of the men saw him and came over. Rudy staggered to
his feet, determined to fight this time. He swung hard at the guy's head, but
he shrugged the blow off and drilled Rudy in the stomach. Rudy felt
unbelievable pain exploding in his gut, and collapsed into a heap. As he
regained his senses, he saw that his assailant had left him and had turned to
face Heather. She had released the tall man, who was staggering around,
clutching his sides, whimpering, and rubbing his arms in obvious pain. "You
Goddamn bitch," muttered the guy whose gut-punch had flattened Rudy. He
whirled and delivered an even more vicious blow to Heather's bare stomach.
Rudy winced and closed his eyes, hearing a sharp call of pain. When he opened
the, though, he was amazed to see the man holding his arm and now he was
whimpering, too. Heather had not moved. On the contrary, she was smiling,
and her stomach, unhurt, glistened with slight perspiration. Light from the
streetlamps glanced off the facets of her abdominal muscles. They were cut
like gemstones. "Is that the best you can do?" she asked. Rudy's eyes were
transfixed by the washboard of her stomach. It looked completely invincible.
She looked completely invincible.

"Get her Fred!" the tall man yelled, but no longer seemed eager to carry out
that task himself. Fred, the guy with the knife, closed in, menacingly, while
the fourth guy came at her from the other side. The two men dwarfed Heather's
lithe, slim body as they surrounded her. Fred reached for her with the knife,
trying to cut her face. Simultaneously, the other guy grabbed her right arm
with both hands and tried to bend it behind her back. Heather twisted her
body back, avoiding the knife, forcing Fred to lunge over her awkwardly with
his own momentum. With her left fist, she hit him on the jaw with a blazing
uppercut, and his body lifted into the air, hovering for a second above her.
With her right arm, she pulled the other man, who was holding her arm with
both hands, sharply to the left, so that the two men crashed into each other.
 They fell to the ground in a pile. The fourth guy went for the knife.
Heather got there first. She stood between him and the knife. "You're a big,
strong man," she told him "And I'm just a girl. Can't you get the knife?" As
she talked, she smiled at him, and flexed her muscles for him to see. Despite
the fact that he towered over her and appeared to outweigh her by as much as
80 pounds, it was clear that he was completely outmatched. She took his hands
with hers and slowly bent his arms back, forcing him down to the ground. Then
she transferred both of his hands to only her left, and continued to force him
down.

Suddenly, she let go of his hands and reached for his belt. Gripping his belt
by the front, she pulled him back up to his feet. Then, slowly and
incredibly, she lifted him off the ground, holding him by the belt, until she
lifted him over her head. She straightened her arm.

As she continued to hold him helplessly over her head, the other men all
attacked her at once. The tall man tried again for her midriff. His punch
rebounded, and he screamed with pain, as if he had just punched the side of
the building. Her stomach looked like corrugated steel. She was still
holding the one guy over her head with one hand. Fred grabbed her arm and as
he did, she flexed her bicep, forcing his fingers apart. Fred's mouth dropped
open: "It's impossible..." he started to say. "That what?" Heather asked.
"That a woman could be this strong? Stronger than 3 men put together?" She
turned and tossed the guy she was holding against the wall. His body slumped
to the ground, unconscious.

Fred, looking around in desperation, grabbed a twisted piece of metal off the
ground. he swung it wildly at her. With her right hand, she took it away
from him. "I mean, 4 men" she said, as she advanced toward Fred, the only one
left standing. Fred backed away, his eyes wide with fear and disbelief. As
she got close to him, he started to swing wildly, hitting her in the stomach
and chest. His blows glanced off her granite stomach with no effect. When he
swung for her face, though, her hand came up and closed around his forearm.
As she applied pressure, his face went pale. Then, with her other hand on his
chest, she pressed his body up against the wall. She straightened her right
arm out, releasing his other arm, and continued holding him against the wall.
He struggled mightily, but he could not budge. He swung at her with both
fists, but she ignored the blows, some of them hitting her in the face. With
her left arm raised, she blocked most of Fred's punches, still holding him
hard to the wall with her right arm only. After a while, Fred started to tire
from swinging so hard. Eventually, his arms hung loosely at his sides. Rivers
of sweat ran down his face; he was completely beaten, too tired to even try to
swing again.

Then, Heather drew back her left fist and flexed her muscle hard. Fred's
face grew even paler, and he desperately tried to pull away from the
impending blow, but he couldn't move. Heather didn't hit him; instead, she
started to laugh. "You're a bunch of weaklings," she said. "How much do you
weigh?" she asked Fred. "190? 200? Do you know how much I weigh?" she
laughed again, and, finally releasing him, stood back with her hands on her
hips. "127," she told him, confirming what Rudy had guessed originally.
"Come on, show me your manly muscles," she challenged him. "Hit me again, try
to take me down."

Roaring with rage, Fred took her up on her offer. He charged her, intending
to just collapse his much bigger body on top of her, crush her, slam her to
the ground. For an instant, Rudy, watching from against the wall, thought he
had succeeded.  Fred was on top of Heather, and he was furiously punching
at her body, flailing wildly, trying to hurt her in any way possible. But
then, suddenly, Heather straightened up slowly, lifting Fred with one hand as
she did. Her right hand was placed squarely on his stomach, and as she stood
up, she strightened her arm, pressing him up over her head, even as his blows
bounced uselessly off her rock-hard body.  Rudy was shocked at how cut, how
chiseled, her arm was as she lifted him. Her stomach, too was completely
tensed from the effort, and light glanced off her ripped midriff in all sorts
of crazy ways.

Quickly, Heather dropped her hand, dropping Fred too, toward the ground. But
before he got there, her left fist came up in a blazing uppercut. She hit him
somewhere in the face, maybe the chin, and as the trajectory of her arm
continued upward, Fred's body reversed its downward movement, and shot upward
again. For a sickening moment, he appeared suspended in midair before he
crashed, unconscious, to the ground.

All of Heather's muscles stood out in bold relief against the light of the
streetlamps. She smiled at Rudy and extended a hand toward him. He reached
up and gripped her arm, as she easily pulled him to his feet. He had never
felt anything so hard and smooth. It was like satin on the surface, but
stone underneath.    

Without an invitation, he let his hands travel up her arm to her shoulder
under the cap-sleeve of her shirt. He could not believe the unbelievable
power that he felt there. As Heather pulled him up into a standing position,
he gripped her arm with both hands, completely surrendering himself to her
strength. Even though he stood a few inches taller than her, and probably
weighed at least 30 pounds more than her, her one arm was far stronger than
his entire body. He knew it. He had seen it, and now he felt it.

The rock-hard muscle of Heather's right arm was the last thing Rudy felt
before he passed out.