The Amazing and Terrible Growth of Sheila: Part Seven
By Mr. Squish, mistersquish@yahoo.com
 My Guns are Bigger and Badder than Yours!


Feel free to send any comments or queries to mistersquish@yahoo.com

Cher realized early on that hiding was for the weak. Her Goddess was power and
she worshipped at her feet, the feet of power and destruction. As the men
passed by, Cher launched her attack. She smashed the nearest one in the head
with a length of gnarled tree limb. It splintered when it hit his skull, but
his skull cracked too. The first soldier fell over dead. The other staggered
backward, unsure what to do. Too slowly he raised his rifle to stop Cher, but
she was too fast and too confident. You see, that first kill had sent a
powerful jolt through her that was the best thing she had ever experienced. It
also pushed her over the six foot mark and grew her biceps from apples to
baseballs, hard and strong.

Cher backhanded him hard across the mouth. He whimpered. He tried again to
raise his gun. She ripped it from his grip. She stood before him, her skirt
hanging by tatters from her sensual rippling waist. Her arms were pulsing. Her
c-cup breasts were d-cups now and firm. She was hard and lethal and this boy
knew it. He was too afraid to run. A stain formed around his crotch and
trickled down his leg. He had pissed himself. Cher dropped the gun. He
relaxed. She cracked her knuckles, then cracked him in the head. Again and
again until he collapsed, his head looking like a deflated basketball. The
surge caught Cher pleasantly by surprise. Its results were even more pleasing.
Her biceps had grown again, her calves, her thighs, her chest (DD's now!), her
abs were tightening more, even her neck was thicker, more defined. She slid
her hand beneath the remnants of her skirt, her muff was nice and damp, but
there was a small growth. She felt around it, it felt fleshy at first, but the
more she played with it it grew harder. It felt almost like a small ... no,
that can't be right. Cher walked toward the battlefield, in search of more
victims.

Back in the town, Sheila stood to her full height. Cool water poured from her
crotch, the contents of the crushed water tower. It felt good against the
thick cords of muscle that made up her thighs and calves. The tanks rumbled
toward her, ready for a big showdown. They came en masse, perhaps fifty of
them. The men felt lethal, organized, unified in their mission to deal this
freak of nature a heavy dose of pain and put an end to this nightmare.

Sheila, on the other hand, felt sooo good. That orgasm had relieved a lot of
stress. She slapped her thick powerlifter legs and her ample chest. She arched
her back, spread herself out, let her muscle bulk out her form. She was a
muscle beast, a thing of dark beauty. She flexed her legs, twisted them,
showed them off, just in case the men had forgotten what they were about to
face. It is possible that their collected firepower might bring her down, but
Sheila doubted it. She certainly wasn't about to run.

"You boys bring real guns this time? I know I did," Sheila loved the pleasure
her biceps gave her. They were the best boyfriends she'd ever had. They never
let her down and always made her cum. She pressed her arms together for the
benefit of these worms, made her massive frame pop with size, dominating size.
She finished with her favorite, the double bicep pose. They were huge, her
babies, the size of her head and growing. My, oh, my, what these boys could
do.

The tank commander called out over an intercom, "Pretty impressive, but let me
show you what our cannons can do." His tank let loose with a loud blast that
exploded into a building nearby Sheila. It punched a large hole in it with its
shell. Sheila strode over to it, peered into the hole and nodded, "Pretty good
for a little man. Watch what these babies can do." She kissed her left and her
right arm, then with a growl ripped the top of the building free and threw it
at the tanks. The building smashed into their front line, scattering a
half-dozen of their number. Sheila closed the distance fast. The tanks fired,
but had not had time to adjust and many shells missed. A few hit but did
little to stop the charging juggernaut.

"You people send fleas to stop a Goddess? It's gonna take more than a bunch of
toy soldiers and their tin-foil tanks to stop me!" On closer inspection, these
tanks were different than before: smaller, lighter, but armed with a decent
payload, just not decent enough. Sheila reached the front line and spread her
legs. She peed on the first few tanks. The soldiers were outraged. They opened
up with a second barrage. Sheila took it. She felt it, but lets face it, these
boys were fucked. She enjoyed the pain. It made her feel alive and it made her
imagine how good it would feel to deal out ten times the force she was
getting. The tanks moved to spread out, to try and flank her. They took her
lack of continued aggression to mean that they were succeeding in their plans;
the simple-minded fools.

Sheila knelt down on her knees. The army though that was the result of their
superior weaponry. Not quite. She leaned forward. She must be about to
collapse, they thought. Her hand reached out. This must be nearly over, she
can't even steady herself. She grabbed the nearest tank, pulled it away from
the others and into her. She grabbed the big gun, tore it free with her
massive right arm and flung it away. She sat down and placed the tank between
her legs, trapping it. It desperately tried to escape but ran smack into
gigantic muscle at every turn. She placed the tank across her outstretched
right arm and flexed slowly. Her forearm swelled, her bicep bulged as it
closed the gap on the tank. The reinforced steel of the tank buckled and
twisted as the might of Sheila's engorged arm muscles treated this piece of
military wizardry as if it were as soft as a week-old orange. Without too much
strain, Sheila squeezed it dry, folding it in on itself and cracking it loudly
like a Styrofoam egg crate being smashed by an eighteen wheeler. She discarded
it with contempt. It no longer pleased the Goddess.

The tanks swarmed around her continuing their attack. They had no idea what to
think. Their shells had as much effect on Sheila's taut dense body as punches
from a three-year old. They just had no idea how truly weak they were. Sheila
purred erotically and licked the oil-stains from her stud right arm, while the
little men continued their frenzied assault. She rose to her knees again and
grabbed another tank from the street. She tore the big gun free, this time
sliding it in and out of her pussy. She left it half-in while she dealt with
the rest of this little plaything. She held the tank in her large hands. Then
pulled and pulled and pulled until it snapped, spilling little bits of army
all over her. She rubbed the mix of gun oil, man and gasoline across her
stomach like a lotion.

A dark thought hit her. She concentrated and reached out when the tanks nearer
to her fired, she plucked the shells out of the air before they could explode
against her armor-plated muscles. She popped the handful of artillery shells
into her mouth, pulled the large gun barrel from her pussy and raised it to
her lips. She tasted the sweet tangy residue of her dark forest as she inhaled
and blew a volley of shells at the army around her. Tanks exploded, the shells
penetrating their flimsy hide more effectively than they did Sheila's fearsome
musculature.

Sheila leaned her head back and laughed. What a bunch of douche-bags! "Hey,
fuck-nuts, you ever see a gorilla crush a cantaloupe with its bare hands?"
Sheila reached out again, the tanks were driving blindly through black smoke
from broken tanks and exploding shells. She grabbed one easily and stood with
it. Its treads spinning futilely in mid-air, hoping for a miracle escape. She
took a moment and she-hulked herself out for maximum effect, her body was
coursing with testosterone. She crushed the tank in a terrifying display of
sudden deadly strength. It had flattened like a pancake between her thick
palms. Sheila continued, stomping about like a great ape, allowing her hulking
mass to parade free. She thumped her broad chest with her fists, roared to the
sky, at the tanks, at the terrified soldiers who now realized what was
happening. She continued the Queen Kong devastation, grabbing a tank by the
barrel and swinging it like a war club and battering the other tanks with it
until it was nothing more than smoking ravaged steel. She grabbed a tank from
the road, held it over her head; she had grown even broader and taller now.
She flexed her abs into a gnarly display of abundant power, then pulled the
tank to pieces slowly and sensually, showering herself in its debris. She was
at the height of bloodlust. Half of the 50 tanks had been decimated, and the
battle had lasted no more than half an hour. The remaining tanks tried to
affect a retreat, but their opponent wasn't done with them yet. Sheila felt no
fatigue, in fact she felt even stronger than before.

"You starting to feel it, maggots? I am. And what I'm feeling is real fucking
good! I like beating on my bitches. Especially the stupid, whiny ones who
think they know what whupp-ass is. Where are you going? I'm not done with you,
fuck sticks!" Sheila grabbed one of the slower tanks, lifted it up and blew
into its muzzle, like a balloon. The pressure from her powerful lungs ruptured
the turret and caused an internal combustion. The tank was just a pile of
smoldering metal. Sheila flung it away, then cut off three more from fleeing
with her stunning quickness. She dropped to her knees and drove a crippling
right into the first tank. Her fist was incredible. The tank's treads split
and the turret too. The gun misfired and hit the tank next to it, stopping it
dead. She grabbed the third and peeled it open like a can of sardines, pulling
the men out and swallowing them whole.

A half-dozen tanks were hoping to sneak out on a side street, snaking between
the warehouse buildings. Sheila saw them and stalked them. A few tanks tried
to offer cover fire for their comrades, but their shells had even less effect
now that Sheila had bulked up further. She moved ahead of them and when they
thought they had made it, they ran smack dab into her moist crotch. She sat
spread-eagle across the road, her monstrous thighs and calves on either side.
The tanks fired wildly. No matter. The shells that exploded in her muff only
fed her frenzy. She grabbed two tanks, rubbed one against her aroused pussy.
The other she punched into bits as her body writhed toward orgasm. As she
writhed and rushed to a massive climax, Sheila laid back and closed her mighty
legs, flooding the trapped tanks with giantess cum before slaughtering them
all in one mind-blowing scissor.

Sheila was drunk with power and sex and she was far from done. She wiped the
debris from her taut inner thighs and stood, looking for more playmates. She
heard the rumbling of the treads and the churning of the engines, as the
remainder of the tanks continued their retreat. Sheila went in pursuit; the
depths of her cruelty and power largely untapped.

In the long meanwhile, Cher's bloodlust was smaller but still incredibly
dangerous and growing. A soldier found her bent over a stream, drinking. He
was immediately turned on. Cher glowed, she radiated desire and sensuality and
bent over looked far less threatening than at her full height and enraged. The
soldier dropped his rifle then his belt. He unbuckled his pants and made his
move. Cher heard him, but felt no fear or threat. She turned into him and
grabbed his swollen member. He was excited by her immediate interest and his
cock thickened in her grip, pre-cum trickled from its tip. Cher laughed
lustily. The soldier grinned, proud of his assets. Then Cher gave the cock a
mighty twist. The soldier fell to his knees, tears poured down his cheeks.
Cher kissed her babies, the way the Goddess had done, then went to work on the
soldier, turning his face into a pile of raw meat. She licked the blood from
her knuckles and moaned as she grew taller and thicker. She strode confidently
across the battlefield in search of more nourishment for her growing body.

A jeep pulled near her and its driver called out, "You alright there, darlin'?
You look sorta light on clothes." Cher looked at her body, it was barely
covered at this point, her clothes were hanging by threads. Her body was
broad, muscular, flushed with blood and power. She stood nearly seven feet
tall. Her body tingled as the jeep pulled in closer. The driver now saw how
truly magnificent this tall girl was. He nearly swallowed his tongue, "Uh,
hey, sexy, why don't we hit what's left of that hotel down there. I could warm
you up. Make you feel real good. Give you first row seats to the gun show."
With that he pumped his right arm for her, his t- shirt tightened as he made a
sizeable bicep emerge. He flexed a little more. Cher laughed and licked her
lips, "Not bad for a boy, but Momma told me, never bring pistols when you
should be packing cannons." Cher hit a hard double biceps pose, popping a pair
of softballs from her taut sleeves. They ripped through the sheer fabric,
thick, pulsing and mighty and nearly twice the size of the boy's.

The driver stared, dumbfounded, "Shit". "You think that's hot, watch this.,"
and Cher tore the rest of her shirt off. Her basketball-sized breasts bobbed
free. "Damn," was all the slack-mouthed dope could manage. She flexed her
chest and her beautiful full breasts bounced up and down. "Now, come, give
Momma some sugar, " as she flaunted her babies in the man's sexed-up face.
Cher pressed the driver's head between her breasts, holding him firm while he
struggled for breath. It only took seconds, but Cher grew some more.

End part seven.