Housewife




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Jane stood in front of the brand new color TV her husband had purchased,
watching the daily episode of The Price Is Right while she ironed laundry. The
phone rang and she sighed, setting the hot iron aside before quickly skipping
to the hallway where the house phone sat on a recessed bookshelf.

"Manning house. Oh hi Peggy, how are you?"

She grabbed the phone in the cradle of her palm and walked it into the living
room, leaving it on the coffee table while cocking her head to secure the
receiver between her ear and shoulder as she went back to ironing as she
spoke.

"I'm fine, thank you, just doing some laundry. Thank you for dinner last week,
by the way, I need to get that pot roast recipe from you."

Peggy was a good friend of hers, and lived around the corner. They saw each
other frequently as they both spent their days at home and took lunch together
a few times a week. She usually called in during the day to chat.

"Do you want to do lunch today? What? You're packing? Packing for what?" She
continued to iron before placing it down and rubbing her face with her free
hand and feigning excitement in her voice.

"A cruise? That's a wonderful surprise! I wish John would surprise me with
something like that. Thanks for letting me know, though, take plenty of
pictures for me! Bye now!"

She hung up the phone and was inches away from flinging it against the wall in
frustration. Peggy seemed to be on a real run of luck lately, having gotten
some new appliances and now a surprise vacation. Or maybe it was the nice
raise her husband had gotten and he decided to spend it lavishly on her. Not
that Jane had it bad--John treated her very well and their marriage was
secure. But it was also boring, and she couldn't remember the last surprise
from their marriage of six years. There were new appliances, sure, and
clothes, but he usually announced them before she saw them. Even a vacation
would be nice, even if it wasn't surprise--they hadn't left the state since
their honeymoon.

Not that he wasn't paid well; he was a rising executive and made plenty of
money for their house and the bills, and had bought a new automobile just last
month. And she was happy! Or satisfied, at least. Sometimes it was hard to
tell the difference. The issues only came up when her friends seemed to be the
beneficiaries of more generous husbands.

She finished up her ironing and went to change into something a little more
comfortable for cooking--she had some clothes she could get dirty, a shirt
with the sleeves cut off and some slacks, along with an apron. It was rare
that she wore something without sleeves, or that showed a lot of skin outside
of her house. Jane was only twenty four, and had married John at nineteen
after meeting him one day at the side of the road when his car had broken down
in the countryside outside of the city. She had been working outside when he
pulled his car to the side of the road and after helping repair his car (she
had learned to work on motors from her father on the farm), they had hit it
off, started going steady, and had gotten married in the space of six months.

Having grown up on a farm, and an only child, she had helped her father from
as soon as she was old enough to walk, first collecting eggs every morning,
then helping with the animals as she got older, and then more manual labor as
her father aged and found it more difficult to bend over to work at times.
Consequently, her body was...unconventional by popular standards. She wasn't
svelte like was the ideal at the moment, nor did the have the curves that
girls like to keep until they started having kids. No, her shoulders were just
a little broader, waist and legs a little thicker, hands a little rougher. She
was very good at the work, strong and capable, but at the time she had thought
she might never get married.

She was most ashamed of her arms. Maybe ashamed wasn't the right word. She
appreciated what her arms had allowed her to do on the farm, and how they made
routine housework and suburban upkeep easy for her--in fact, John rarely had
to do any yard work because she was so knowledgeable and it allowed him a
measure of relief to leave her the responsibility which, he claimed, had been
part of his success at work. She cooked, cleaned, mowed, trimmed, planted,
watered. But they rarely went out, hadn't vacationed. She suspected why, too.
John was an odd fellow, normal by all accounts but with what might be
considered counter-culture interests behind closed doors. That first time they
had met, he had been overly excited about the size and musculature of her
arms, repeatedly asking if he could touch them or if she could make a muscle.
He later admitted to being a fan of strong women, rare as they were, and
seemed ecstatic to have run into her. She had no knowledge of strong women,
having grown up with only a radio, and the strong woman culture being very
localized, just not where she was.

Unfortunately, not everyone was as thrilled about her body as she was, and
though she had been confident in her body before their honeymoon, because no
one had ever made comments about it, their vacation in south Florida had drawn
a lot of unwanted attention and ridicule because to everyone else, she looked
like a man. Jane had become withdrawn after that and wore long sleeves and
slacks when outside the home, and John rarely if ever took her places in case
the same situation would arise.

The crazy thing was that even though she hated what people thought about her
muscles, she loved her body all the same, and since the suburban life didn't
offer her many physical challenges, and John still loved that she was strong
and muscular, she had lobbied him for some weightlifting equipment to help
keep her shape. They had needed to shop in person rather than via catalog
since she wasn't sure how strong she was, really, and needed to test out
weights but had eventually settled on an array of dumbbells ranging from fifty
to one hundred pounds, and a barbell plus a bench with plates that she could
add on her own. She was much stronger than the average man, and far stronger
than the average woman and in the years since she had gotten those weights she
had continue to progress in strength, now using the fifty pound dumbbells to
warm up rather as the actual work, as had been the case when she had purchased
them. She loved the way her arms felt after doing some curls and if a
professional bodybuilder had seen them they would be considered over-trained
at this point, her arms nearing fifteen inches relaxed (John had measured
them). Before starting to cook and finding herself with a hole in her schedule
now that Jane was going away, she went into the cellar where she kept her
weights and decided just to get a little workout in.

She picked up a pair of sixty pounders, the cool metal of the grip feeling
good in her hands. With a little bit of effort she started to curl the weights
up and down, her arms bulging against the resistance of the weights, each arm
sporting a large vein. Her shoulders were big, her triceps meaty at the bottom
of each curl, her biceps bunching up into large balls at the top of the curl.
She didn't know much about weight training, just what she could find in
magazines and limited to equipment she had, so curls were easy, and she just
curled until she couldn't anymore. Her arms exhausted, she put the dumbbells
on the ground and shook her arms out, feeling swollen after doing dozens of
reps. She eyed the sixty-fives; she really should start cooking to stay on
schedule, but maybe another set wouldn't hurt. She grabbed those and started
her routine again, curling for a few minutes until she could barely lift her
arms. Her arms felt so big, and she reached into her apron to grab her tape
measure that she kept handy at all times these days, and clumsily measured her
arm as she flexed it.

"Nineteen inches," she whispered. "That's another half inch. John will like
it, I guess. It's too bad that no one else will ever see these."
Sighing again, she wiped her hands off and went upstairs to the kitchen to
prepare for the rest of the day. Now, muscles aside, Jane was objectively a
bombshell, her naturally curly auburn hair spilling over her
broader-than-normal shoulders, striking blue eyes, a coy smile, clear skin.

She was as pretty as could be, which was her saving grace most of the time, if
she was careful with how she dressed. It had taken her months to figure out
what she could wear without breaking a seam or popping a button. At home she
was free to be her true self and was glad no one was around.

She turned on the radio and put the volume all the way up and sang at the top
of her lungs (off-key) to the songs at the top of the charts as she cooked her
lunch and the evening's dinner. She danced and shook her hips, hopped up and
down and generally had a good time for the next two hours. That was, until she
had a bit of an accident. She was about to pull something out of the oven but
had distracted herself with singing and inadvertently wrenched the whole
handle off the over door, snapping the screws keeping it in place.

"Gosh darn," she growled. "Sometimes I wish I was normal, then we could do
things like go to the beach or I wouldn't break things so often." She gripped
the two ends of the metal handle and bent it easily, the aluminum stick unable
to resist her strength. As she looked at the bent metal, though, she had a
realization for the first time in her life.

"What if I just tell him what I want, and then tell him that he's going to do
it?" she asked herself. She knew she couldn't bend real steel (she had tried),
but that there was no way John could do this to the heavy aluminum. In fact,
she mused, he had never demonstrated that he was stronger than her. If
anything, he might even enjoy her going out of her way to prove her strength
to him.

She went about her business for the rest of the afternoon before John came
home and went through his routine, kicking off his shoes, hanging up his
jacket and collapsing on the couch.

"Jane, can you bring me a beer?"

She was already on her way, though, and instead of a bear she tossed the bent
handle into his lap, surprising him and making him flinch.

"We need to fix the oven, I broke it today."

"It looks like you did more than that," he said, picking up the mangled metal
and looking straight at her arms. "We'll get it fixed this weekend if we can
stop by Sears."

"No, we will get it fixed this weekend, because we are going to Sears."

He looked a little annoyed by her tone. "Hey now, don't get all worked up. And
where's my beer."

"It's in the fridgedaire, waiting for you do get it," she said sweetly,
sitting next to him on the couch. She was still wearing her sleeveless top.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking today," she said as she swung her heavy,
muscled legs onto his lap. She really knew how to rile him up and could
already feel his penis enlargening. Scooting a little closer she wrapped her
bicep under his chin and flexed slightly. "I think we should go on vacation.
Somewhere nice and public, with a beach. And mai tais!"

"Th-that certainly sounds like a good idea but I can't really get away from
work right now," he stammered, reaching up to grab her arm.

"Nineteen inches says that you can get away from work," she whispered.

"Nineteen inches says that you haven't taken time off from there in years and
haven't taken me anywhere with you, and that you have plenty of time and money
to take me somewhere for a week where I can enjoy the sun and be outside. In
fact," she continued, "nineteen inches bets that you haven't taken me out
because of nineteen inches." She flexed harder and trapped his head between
her bicep and forearm.

"Nineteen...inches?" He had to wheeze it between gritted teeth, unable to move
his jaw.

"Yes. All nineteen. And all nineteen and the rest of me really wants to get
away." She let his head go and smiled at him. "I think some things are going
to change around here, and that you'll like them. But don't worry," she said,
pressing herself out of the couch and walking to the kitchen, "we can keep it
inside the house, no one will know but us."

Jane stood with John on the tarmac, waiting to board their plane to the
Bahamas, where they had eventually both "agreed" to go (rest assured, JAne had
heavily insisted on this destination). The airport workers were pushing the
stairs up to the front door of the plane while another group drove carts of
luggage to be loaded in the undercarriage. Despite the noise of a busy
airport, it was a beautiful day out, and Jane was enjoying every minute of it.

Flying, she believed, as did many others, was an event to be dressed for, and
the two of them were dressed for the occasion, John in a suit and tie plus a
hat, while Jane wore a sleeveless silk blouse tucked into a teal skirt, She
clutched her handbag in front of her while she waited to board, and peered at
their fellow travellers from behind winged sunglasses.

The McDonnell-Douglas DC-9 by TWA they were about to board wasn't a big plane,
though Jane hadn't been on many, and judging by the number of people milling
about with them they flight would be full. Paul had insisted on an aisle seat
to stretch his long legs, and she of course wanted to sit next to him which
put her in the unenviable position of sitting between him and another
person--she wondered who she would be forced to sit next to for the multi-hour
flight.

Though she was happy to be out and about and without sleeves, no less, she was
still a little self-conscious about how people were looking at her,
specifically her exposed arms and the amount of cleavage she was showing, both
muscle and breast. Fully aware of people's stares and intermittent whispers,
she clutched her handbag even tighter, making her triceps bulge and exposing
her prominent bicep vein. Still, she maintained a cool and relaxed face, like
she didn't have a care in the world.

It had been a few weeks since her confrontation with John and things had
changed for the better around the house. She found that placating his
interests made him more available to do more things around the house and he
was generally more attentive to her than he had been in the past. He
definitely respected her strength more, especially after she had arranged some
timely demonstrations at how strong she could be, even within the confines of
their house. So with a new wardrobe and renewed confidence they headed out on
their vacation.

They boarded the plane in groups, which took a while--there were several
families with toddlers that needed extra assistance getting up the stairs, and
some elderly couples. When they finally got to their row, a tall, good looking
man was already seated at the window, hat brim pulled slightly down over his
eyes, apparently already asleep. She breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that
she wouldn't have to deal with an annoying seatmate for the rest of the trip.
She was also grateful that he was rather thin, her broad back and shoulders
filled the seat and brushed up slightly against both of the shoulders of the
men on either side of her. Even with her hands in her lap her right triceps
still made contact with her husband's left arm. As the flight attendants went
over safety protocol in the aisle, she turned her head slightly to whisper to
John.

"I'm really excited to fly again, honey, and go on a real getaway! Thanks for
setting this trip up," she said, warmly.

He whispered back, simultaneously trying to surreptitiously grope her arm--she
didn't give in and refused to flex. "As if I had a choice! But I'm glad we can
be somewhere exotic for once."

They both settled in and once the jitters from takeoff had subsided Jane was
finally able to relax a little. She picked a book from her bag to read and,
not wanting to disturb either her neighbor or now-dozing husband, decided not
to turn on the overhead lamp, instead holding the book up closer to her face
to read the text. Doing so made her biceps bulge, her upper arms filling the
space between her breasts and forearms. For her, it ended up being a
comfortable position.

A stewardess came by shortly to pass out drinks. Jane didn't notice, but the
woman's eyes widened when she walked up to Jane row and spotted her hard to
miss, nineteen-inch arms bunched up between two grown men.

"Excuse me, ma'am, would you like something to drink?" she asked politely,
rummaging around for a cup and ice.

"Yes please, actually. Do you have Pepsi-Cola?"

"Is Coca-Coca fine?" She pulled out a can and offered it to her.

"That's perfect, thank you," Jane replied, pulling down the tray in front of
her and reaching out to grab the offered can and cup of ice, her triceps
hanging heavily.

"If you don't mind my saying, miss," the woman whispered before moving on,
"You have quite muscular arms, they seem to be much larger than your
husband's."

She giggled softly. "They are, definitely. It helps to have a little muscle
around the house, even when he is home!"

The stewardess grinned wildly before giving her the thumbs up and rolling her
cart away. For the next half hour or so Jane sipped at her cold soda and
continued reading in peace. Eventually, though, the man to her left stirred
and woke up. He nodded hello and tipped his already-tipped hat, but
immediately pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and took a long drag
on a new stick.

"Excuse me," Jane said, turning slightly to look at him, "If it's all the same
to you, could you wait until we land? I'm a little allergic to cigarette
smoke."

He looked her dead in the eye before taking another puff. "Lady, no offense,
but the cabin is filled with smoke, if you were really allergic you'd already
be sick." He turned to look out the window.

"Well maybe I'd just prefer that you not smoke right next to me," she said
sourly, and by way of suggestion crumpled her empty soda can in one hand.
"It's just aluminum, lady, anyone can do it, especially with fat arms like
that," he sneered.

"My, you are rude," she said, and reached out faster than he could react to
snatch his lighter out of his hand before pinching the steel container flat
between her thumb and index finger of her left hand before flexing her
menacing right bicep, her arms pumped from sitting in a perma curl with her
book. Lighter fluid dripped off her hands before she tossed it in his lap,
reached over to pluck his cigarette out of his mouth, and put it out on the
ashtray in the armrest. He gulped visibly.

"Maybe you're right, I'll just wait until I get there instead," he said
shakily before pulling his hat brim down and pretending to fall back asleep.
Jane smiled to herself, pleased that she had resolved the situation. Her whole
life dynamic had changed once she had made the decision to be more assertive
and use her body to her advantage, instead of playing the good housewife. It
had certainly won her some supporters around town, though most people frowned
upon the fact that she wasn't exactly the feminine ideal of the times. The
other homebodies around the neighborhood had practically blacklisted her after
she had started mowing her own lawn i cut-off t-shirts that revealed her arms,
and short shorts that revealed her thick, powerful legs that rippled and
bulged with every step she took. She was even looking better, having shed some
pounds of fat now that she didn't feel confined to the house, and more of her
muscles were visible than ever, which John loved. At every opportunity he
tried to touch a piece of her hard flesh, and frequently offered to cook or
clean in exchange for...well, whatever he asked for. She didn't particularly
care, and loved the attention. She had probably grown stronger and bigger
because of it, though he did have a particular yearning for seeing her pump up
her arms to new heights.

Not that she had ever needed help to carry her bundles to the car, but in the
past she had been highly encouraged to ask for the help anyway to prevent her
sleeves from busting through a shirt in public, as not to embarrass John--now
she gleefully flaunted the fact that she could take the groceries to the car
in one trip, or throw bags of mulch and soil over her shoulders without
needing a pallet to wheel to her station wagon. She had actually been offered
a warehouse position at a local Sears when their foreman had seen her carrying
an entire Kenmore washer through the store, to check out, and to her car--she
had politely declined at first because she had responsibilities at home still,
but after he insisted and told her about the pay and flexible hours he would
allow her she relaxed a bit and promised to think about it. She was still
thinking about it when the plane landed a few hours later in the beautiful
Bahamas.

She had never been anywhere so humid in her life, but the sun was shining and
huge clouds floated through the sky as the disembarked from the plane. She
slipped on her sunglasses as they waited for a bus to bring them to the
sleepy-looking terminal. Already sweating, she was excited to get to their
bungalow where she could put on some more comfortable clothes, maybe the two
piece bathing suit she had purchased, and go to the beach to enjoy the
weather. John was already distracted, this time with his new home-movie
camera, pointing it at everything and anything as they drove through the palm
tree-lined streets.

When they got to their bungalow they (Jane) brought their luggage inside and
turned on the fans and window air conditioning unit to cool down. Paul took
off his jacket and tie and unbuttoned his shirt; Jane basically tore off her
blouse and jumped out of her skirt, standing at the foot of the bed in
undergarments as she rooted through her suitcase for her new bikini, which she
wasn't totally sure would fit her as she had secretly gone out to purchase it.
Before he could see that she had it she had gone of to the restroom to put it
on and closed the door, and while she dressed she sprung her trap on John.

"I've been thinking John, it would be nice if we could have a second source of
income for the household to buy the little things, maybe it would help you
relax at work if you knew you didn't have to work so many hours."
John lay on the bed, hands under his head staring at the ceiling. "You're not
turning into one of those women that feels the need to go out and work, now
are you? You have plenty of work to do at home!"
"Yes, honey, that's true," she said, her voice muffled behind the door. "But I
was offered a very nice, easy job at Sears, and they'll pay me well and be
very flexible with me."

"I don't know, it seems like an awful lot of trouble, why don't we talk about
it when we get home."

She opened the bathroom door and stepped out. "How about we talk about it
now?"

She had been right, the bikini didn't fit her. It was made for someone her
height but much, much thinner and with different shapes. The
aquamarine-colored top, basically a water-friendly bra, was pushed to the
limits, her breasts nearly spilling out of the front, her lats spilling out
the back, and her traps pushing against the straps. Her bottom, which was
supposed to cover some of her midsection and most of her rear, was much more
risque because of all the muscle she carried. Her lifestyle change over the
last couple months had paid off, and her muscles stood out under her
sweat-slicked flesh, rippling with every move. She brought both arms up and
flex, nearly ripping herself out of the top, her nineteen-inch plus arms
soaring high on her relatively short arm structure.

John gulped and shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Maybe we could talk about
it now."

"That's what I thought," she said as she went to the foot of the bed, bending
over to grip the frame and started to curl it up and down while he lay on it.
"I think you'll like the job too. It's a warehouse job, they want me to lift
heavy things?.all?.day," she said quietly as she stared into his eyes and
continued pumping, her arms ballooning with every curl, her legs bent at the
knees causing her quads and calves to bulge ominously as they appeared at the
bottom of every curl.

"Just imagine how pumped up I could be when I get home in the evenings," she
continued, "and you could touch me all you wanted while I made dinner after."
His eyes rolled up into his head.

"And maybe if you're lucky I'll bring home some extra appliances to use my
strength on," she said, biting her lip sensually and curling the bed even
higher, squeezing everything she could out of it as a huge vein appeared on
each arm. John spasmed on the bed, hands over his crotch, in throes of
pleasure just from imagining what might happen if he complied with her
"request".

He breathed heavily as he lay there, alternately looking at her and the
ceiling. "Maybe it might be a good idea after all."

"Good," she said, dropping the bed to the ground and pulling out a tape
measure from her bag, quickly wrapping her upper arm and flexing it.

"Twenty-one inches with a pump, now," she said with a wink, tossing the tape
on his chest and grabbing a towel before heading out to the beach.

Jane sauntered out to the beachfront-there weren't many sunbathers at the
moment and she had her pick of the litter of dozens of beach chairs with
paired umbrellas. Straightening the large floppy had on her head and donning
her sunglasses, she picked one out before sitting down and taking some time to
apply some sunscreen, at least to the parts of her body that she could reach:
her face and anything in the front of her body.

While she was working a towel boy rolled up and, in broken English, offered
her a towel and a menu with drinks. She stopped him before he walked away.

"Excuse me, but I seem to be having some difficulty," she said with a coy
grin. "Could you help me put on some more sunscreen?"

He cocked his head, his comprehension having missed a third of the words.
Noticing his slight confusion she held up her suncreen and pointed at her
expansive back. Her muscles rippled with her gesture and the boy gulped
audibly, but nodded, understanding.

"Thank you," she said sweetly as she lay on her stomach on the chair, undoing
the clasp of her bikini top so that he could apply everywhere evenly (and to
avoid any unsightly tan lines!). She could tell from his touch that he was
both nervous and having to work hard to massage the oil into her dense
musculature, and she took some pleasure in shifting her shoulders and back a
little to make it a little harder on him. To his credit, he did a thorough
job, making sure to get her back and glutes, the backs of her legs, even
around her lats. When he was finished he capped the bottle and stood there
awkwardly.

"Thank you so much. Oh gosh," she realized, "I left my purse in my room, I
can't tip. Maybe you can return to my room later tonight and I will give you a
tip?" She had to turn her head and torso significantly to see him from her
prone position.

He screwed up his face from concentration. Sighing, she picked up her room key
from the ground and showed him the number. "You, come here, five'o'clock
tonight, understand? For tip!"

He nodded and smiled. His eyes roamed over her body, clearly appreciating what
he saw, and saw an opening to test the waters-a way both to save a little cash
and to also test out her newfound confidence. Looking around and seeing that
they were the only too on the beach, she slowly rolled over onto her back,
exposing her enormous breasts and cobblestone abs, stretching her arms
overhead and looking at him straight in the eyes. His widened, and his pants
tented almost instantly, and he blushed beneath his dark skin and covered up
his crotch and muttered, "five o clock" before scurrying away. She laughed and
lay there for a little while, appreciating this newfound freedom in her skin.
Thinking about it, there might not be anyone on the island that might tell her
to cover up at all that would legitimately challenge her.

Basking in the sun, she enjoyed the warmth of the rays and the soft sounds of
waves rolling up onto the beach. It was so refreshing, having grown up in a
land-locked state and only having been to the beach once previously. She did
have experience with the sun, though, and while she lay there she thought back
to all of the summer harvests she had done with her father for many years. She
was an only child, and after discovering that his wife was unable to have any
more children after her, had tasked Jane with becoming his right-hand girl
from the age of four. She helped with all that she could as soon as she could
handle it, physically.

Ironically, this is what had started her growth, the constant manual labor and
farm-fed diet contributing to growth early on. Like the children who
frequented the schoolhouse she did, she was physically fit at an early age but
had shown signs as early as six that she was progressing far more rapidly than
any of her classmates (though there weren't many, only a dozen or so in the
cramped room that shared multiple grades).

With a smile she thought back on all the extraordinary things she had done
that no one would believe. There was the time that their donkey had fallen ill
in the middle of plowing field, and she had unhooked the plow from its yoke
and had finished the remainder of the acre herself. She had been six at the
time, and no more than three and a half feet tall, but she pulled the plow all
the same, and then dragged both the donkey and the plow back to their
property. She had bulging muscles even back then, disproportionately large for
her small body and a challenge to clothe.

Years later, in her teens she was much larger. Having topped out at just over
five feet, she wasn't tall like her father, but she was bigger than anyone she
knew by a long shot. Had she measured her arms back then, she would have found
that her sixteen inch arms were as big, if not bigger, than the bodybuilders
of the era. Had she seen the photographs that Edison was taking of male and
female athletes all the way in New Jersey, she would have been the superior of
all of them. She had also blossomed into womanhood, and her breasts were quite
large. She had also grown quite fond of wearing as little clothing as
possible-it was a solitary life they led, and almost no one saw them in the
fields laboring, not with miles between workers. She had taken to wearing only
coveralls, the straps barely containing her massive chest, but her shoulders
and arms were allowed to bulge free of confinement.

That year automobiles were becoming more prevalent as people started to move
farther west, and she had happened upon one that was broken down on the side
of a dirt road, a family of four out for a Sunday jaunt having driven over a
sharp rock and blown a tire. As she approached them from the field, she saw
them trying, unsuccessfully, to prop up to change a wheel. Seeing their plight
she offered to help, unceremoniously pushing them aside and grabbing the
chassis. She lifted the end of the car easily, her biceps bulging with the
effort-after a brief period of shock they were able to gather their wits and
change the tire. They offered her a little money as thanks, which she tried to
refuse-the rather forward and brusque teenaged son grabbed the wad of cash
that his father had tried to offer and plunged it into the cleavage exposed by
her coveralls. She blushed; no one had ever done that before and the way that
he looked at her body made her feel wanted, but the feeling was fleeting as
they drove off into the summer heat.

She had certainly made a lot of noise after she had gotten married, the city
folk obviously not used to someone of her stature, and her constant growth
making her an object of attention when they went out, which is why John had
eventually persuaded her to stay at home constantly. Things would be different
now, though, and she was taking full agency of her extreme strength.
Before she knew it, she had dozed off in the sunlight. Passed out for a couple
of hours, she was only awakened when someone grabbed her shoulder and shook
her awake.

"Miss..miss! You're red as a lobster!"

Her eyes fluttered open and a handsome young man in a hotel uniform, clearly
American, looked her in the eyes while fumbling with a towel in one hand and
shading his eyes from her bare breasts with the other. After covering her up
he repositioned the umbrella over her. The shade was welcome. His eyes were
just like her husbands, and the towel boy's-wide and roving. He clearly
couldn't help himself.

"I just applied sunscreen! I must have been asleep for a while. Thank you for
waking me," she yawned and stretched, naturally this time, and her towel
slipped off to the side. The boy stared.

She covered up again and smiled at him.

"Tell me your name." It was a command, not a request.

"Robert, miss."

"Hello, Robert. I'm Jane." She sat up straight, her mountainous shoulders and
triceps bulging as she moved. "I can tell that you like what you see, it's
quite obvious. And don't worry about it," she waved her hand as he started to
stammer, "I get that same response from a lot of people."

She looked him up and down, and saw that he was in very good shape indeed, and
handsome. John had never looked this good, she thought to herself. She had
fallen for him for other reasons than his body but damn wouldn't it be nice to
appreciate someone more like herself.

"Tell me, Robert," she said as she brought her arm parallel to her body, "Have
you ever seen a woman with a body like mine before?" She flexed slowly and her
bicep grew, and grew, and grew.

"No, ma'am."

"Not even on this amazing vacation island?"

"No, ma'am." He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"How old are you Bobby. Can I call you that? Bobby?"

"Yes, ma'am. Eighteen just this past month."

"I see. Well, Bobby, I'm going to be here on the island for a little while,
and to be honest, my husband will not be able to keep up with me. I might need
a little extra excitement, if you know what I mean." Her voice cracked-she was
going off the cuff, this was very unusual to even suggest, but her husband was
on the island with her! She was very nervous about sharing her sexuality with
someone else and also with using her body to try and seduce a young man, but
he was just so appealing.

He looked at her blankly, and stammered again. He didn't seem to be very
confident, though it could just be her presence. Sighing, she grabbed the
towel and flung it around his back, pulling him in and burying his face in her
breasts.

"This could be yours for two weeks, if you like. Or I could go ask someone
else. It's up to you," she breathed. He tried to pull away but it seemed that
despite his muscular body he was no match for her strength, and she loved it.

She grinned as he struggled against a fraction of her strength before
releasing him, grabbing his crotch as he pulled away.

"Help me with my top, Bobby." He did as asked and reapplied her bikini top.
"I'll worry about my back tan later. Thank you for your help-I expect that you
have a room to stay in?"

"Yes, I bunk in 229A," he said sheepishly.

"Good, I will stop by when I'm ready." She thought to herself and tapped her
finger on her chin. "And when you're in my presence, I think you should
address me as goddess. That seems very fitting for someone of my stature. What
do you think?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes?.?" She trailed off.

"Yes goddess!" He almost shouted.

"Good. Don't worry, when others are around you can address me normally. But I
want you to know that I'm in complete control when we are alone." He nodded
and withdrew.

She was shaking with excitement now, These words and ideas had just sprung to
mind, she had no idea where they had come from! She wasn't much of a reader,
and she had never ever thought of anything like this before, but it just
seemed right. She knew a little bit about mythology, the Amazons and
Greco-Roman deities, women who could stop a man dead with her beauty. She also
had considered them quite strong, especially Athena or the Amazons, warrior
women that could hold their own with any man. Was she not, by that definition,
a goddess? Superior to everyone around her?

She felt her bikini bottom growing damp as the thought of having complete
control over a young man in the prime of his life aroused her. Perhaps she
would learn some valuable lessons that she could bring home with her and show
off to John. It seemed that years of repression had caused her sexuality to
reach a boiling point the top was starting to bubble over.

John still hadn't joined her, and she assumed he was still passed out on the
bed, or perhaps still thinking of her magnificent body. The sun had gone past
its midway point and was starting to descend to the horizon, but there was
plenty of light still. She looked around her as beach goers settled in, though
some had been there for a while. The ones with the disgusted looks, she could
tell, had been around while she was still naked on the chair, while newcomers
had witnessed her display with Bobby and her muscular physique enough to cause
tittering and gossip.

She wasn't worried about it though-she liked that people were talking about
her, and wondered how many encounters she might have while she was there. Not
that she wanted more exposure, on the contrary. She was rather terrified that
she was now to repay both the towel boy and keep a paramour on the side for
two weeks, without John knowing. She supposed that if something happened, it
happened, but she vowed then to keep a tight lid on the situation.'

That evening Peggy and John went to the resort's welcome barbecue and mingled
with the other guests a little. Everyone wore comfortable evening wear, most
of it beach themed. Peggy, now growing accustomed to her confidence in her
body had decided to wear a bikini and wrapped herself in a beautiful,
patterned sash that covered up more of her body, though she still left her
massive arms exposed. Despite the fact that John never wanted to leave her
side (for obvious reasons) they had a great time, met more of the guests (who
were curious about her body for the most part) and ate great food. She even
ran into her new favorite staff member Robert, who she slyly winked at after
he spotted her and made a beeline toward her with a plate of food, ignoring a
dozen other guests along the way to get to her.

"You don't have to act that way right now, Robert," she said under her breath
as she picked some appetizers off of the platter, "but I do appreciate the
gesture. Remember what I said about tonight."

"Yes, goddess," he mumbled, only audible by Peggy. John, who had managed to be
away from her arms for more than a minute, returned with drink for them.

"He seemed awfully eager," John mentioned, handing her a cup of punch.

She swirled the drink in her cup and nodded thoughtfully. She didn't want him
to suspect anything.

Later in the barbecue there was entertainment, group dancing and songs. They
had fire dancers and a limbo contest (Peggy tried but her breasts were just
too big and perky, and kept knocking over the stick), and had a troupe of
natives performing dances and skits. One skit in particular involved a big,
strong man saving a woman from certain death at the hands of sea monster, and
Peggy was a very willing participant, waving her hand in the air vigorously to
get selected. When she went up on the small stage she was of course shorter
than the towering man with the barrel chest, but after she dramatically tossed
aside her body scarf, clad in her aqua bikini, it was clear which of the two
was actually probably going to do the saving, especially after she scooped him
up in the crook of one arm and flexed a bicep bigger than his head as she
paraded around the stage. The audience cheered loudly and even the actor was
laughing good-heartedly as she put him down and they flexed together, another
staff member taking a polaroid of the duo.

It was clear that the party would last until the wee hours of the morning, but
Peggy had an appointment to keep. She had to ditch her husband but that
wouldn't be too difficult. He had warmed to some of the other guests and it
wouldn't be too hard to leave, but to be sure she pulled him aside into a side
room, plucked him off the floor with one hand, and placed him on her opposite
bicep, giving him his favorite (but rarely offered) treat: a bicep ride. His
body rose up and down by a foot with every flex of her bicep, his hardening
penis pressing against her rock hard arm. When he was ready she flexed hard,
hard enough to bump him airborne where she caught him with the same hand of
the arm he was just riding, and tore his pants off with her other hand. His
cock stood out, engorged with blood, and now she was able to flex her other
arm, her bicep hardening and peaking, but this time with his penis in the
crook of her bicep and forearm. He shuddered in her palm and it only took
moments before he orgasmed, shooting cum against the wall behind them and
nearly fainting from pleasure.

She smiled, put him down and patted his cheek, as he grabbed a nearby towel
and put it around his waist. "I'm feeling pretty tired honey, why don't you
stay here and enjoy the party, I'm going to go for a walk before bed."

"Do you want some company?" He started to follow her out, but she stopped him.

"No, that's alright, I'll be fine, just need to quiet is all. I'll see you
later," she said, and pecked him on the cheek.

As she walked through the party she noticed Robert was already gone. She
smiled and walked through the resort to the staff quarters, quietly walking
the halls until she reached Robert's room. She wanted to make a big entrance,
but she also wanted to make a big impression, so instead of forcing the door
open she politely knocked. Not a few seconds later the door was opening and
Robert stood there in khaki pants and a pressed white polo, freshly changed
after the party. It seemed he had showered as well, as his hair was damp.
Peggy was only clad in her bikini.

She walked in and closed the door behind her, making sure he had a good look
as she crushed the door knob and locking mechanism in her feminine hand. "So
we won't be interrupted," she said sweetly as she breezed past him and sat on
the edge of his bed.

"Be a dear, these bikini straps are becoming uncomfortable, would you undo
them for me? I have trouble reaching anyway," she said, drawing him forward
with the motion of a crooked finger. He gulped and walked to the bed, crawled
on it, and after fumbling a bit with his fingers undid the knot of her bikini
top, which she pulled away and tossed aside. He noticed that the light top
really served no purpose other than to cover up; her breasts didn't move an
iota as the top came off. She stood up and stretched her arms overhead, her
muscle-clad yet somehow lithe body extending. Robert's eyes widened--her
flawless skin rippled with pounds of muscle beneath it, her pecs almost as
thick as her breasts, even her armpits stuffed with muscle. She twirled
around, showing off her muscle-stuffed bubble butt and calves the size of
cantaloupes.

"I can see that you like what you see," she said, clasping her hands in front
of her chest (which made her arms and chest and shoulders bulge obscenely) and
smiling. "There's certainly a lot of me to explore and since I wear the pants
in my household we have as long as I want to play. How does that sound?"

"That sounds amazing, g-g-goddess," he said, still kneeling on the bed.

"Oh honey! There's no need to be nervous, you're shaking!"

"No ma'am," he sighed. "I'm not nervous, just excited. If I can be honest, you
are the woman of my dreams." He turned beet red. "The reason my parents sent
me here to work was for rehabilitation. I love strong women bulging with
muscle, and my social studies teacher?"

"--was a strong woman bulging with muscle?" He nodded as she interrupted and
finished his statement. "I can see how that might seem. It must have gone on
for a while, am I correct?" He nodded a second time, hands resting on his lap.
"Well," she pouted, "was she bigger than me?" Taking a deep breath she
expanded her chest and folded her arms up and behind her head, flaring her
lats and flexing her biceps. She planted her heels together and stood on her
tiptoes, tensing her massive thighs and calves, her whole body exploding
outward impossibly.

"Oh my," Robert whispered, covering his mouth with one hand. She giggled and
shifted her arms into a double bicep pose, still on tiptoe. Her biceps, well
over twenty inches with all the flexing she had already done this vacation,
towered over her shoulders. She only stood five feet, four inches but to
Robert she seemed like a giant at the moment. Relaxing, she sat next to him on
the bed and flexed a humongous bicep right in his face, the peaked mount of
muscle covered in smooth, creamy skin growing literally right before his eyes,
obstructing his view of the floor, then the doorway, until it was the only
thing he could see. Tentatively he reached up and encircled her massive muscle
with his hands, trying to squeeze it in his grip but finding it was like
holding a warm, vein-covered bowling ball.

"Wouldn't you like to know how strong i am?"

Looking her in the eyes, but not taking his hands from her still-flexed arm,
he nodded.

"Would you like me to tell you or show you?"

"Both, please?"

"Hm, 'Both please' who?"

"Both, please, goddess."

"Alright then, you'll get both." Nonchalantly, while he was still holding onto
her arm, she stood up and walked easily around the room, flexing and pumping
her arm while he rode along, seeming like his weight was inconsequential.
Looking around the room, she didn't see anything that she could bend or break
to show him some more of what she could do. Thoughtfully she looked at his
bed.

"Will you have to pay for anything if I break it?"

"Yes, goddess. It comes out of my pay at the end of the week."

"Hm, well maybe I'll have to talk with someone if I can't set things right on
my own. Down you go." She lowered her arm and he dropped to the floor, but
still clung to her now-pumped bicep in a way not-unlike her husband, his arms
encircled around her upper arm.

"Do you think I can lift this bed, Robert?"

"Yes goddess, but it's bolted to the floor. Because of the storms," he said as
she looked at him quizzically.

She bent over and squatted at the knees, grabbing the bed frame with one hand,
since he was still fondling her other arm, and pulled. There was the scream of
steel tearing from stone as she wrenched the bed frame from its moorings as
she easily stood up straight and continued to pull at the bed without much
effort, it seemed. Still, she wasn't strong enough to overcome levers, and was
unable to pull the bed straight off the ground, and started to unintentionally
fold back the bed frame as she lifted higher--now it resembled a sloping hill.
Her handprint was pressed into the metal where she had grabbed it.

"Oh my," Robert said, looking at the bed, then back to her. "Was that easy for
you?"

"As a matter of fact, it was! And I can fix it for you if you want." He
nodded, so she shook him free for the moment and went to each side of the bed,
bending the frame straight again on both sides before using her bare hands to
hammer the screws back into the concrete floor. She had a slight sheen of
sweat but didn't seem to be exerting herself much.

Peggy recognized that Robert was like a kid in a candy store at this point.
"Robert, do you like dancing?"

"No goddess, I mean I'm not a very good dancer, but I like to do it
sometimes."

"Well do you think this is a good dance?" Using her practiced muscle control
she bobbed her firm breasts up and down, her pecs rippling with each flex.
They popped up and down dramatically, and it was evident that she practiced
this quite often. He blushed again, but reached out and placed his hands on
her popping chest, his hands jumping up and down, trying to knead into her
firm breasts. "My chest is very strong too, Robert. Why don't you see if you
can keep my breasts pressed together. Don't worry, you can use your full
strength, you can't hurt me!"

He did as he was told and pressed on the outside of her breasts, pushing them
inward. Slyly, slowly, she flexed her chest, her breasts starting their
inexorable march to the outside of her ribcage. She could tell that Robert was
really trying, the muscles in his forearms twitching as he tried to push her
mammaries back to their starting position, but couldn't. She relaxed and his
pressure slammed her breasts back together. She playfully bounced them, his
strength having no effect on the speed or power of her bounces. He was
standing right in front of her and while she teased him she felt his pants
starting to rub against her bubbly abs. She flexed hard, spreading her breasts
and his hands and peered down between the cleavage at his growing hard on.

She grabbed his hands and put them at his side, then grabbed his shirt at the
collar and tore it in half, throwing the halves to the floor. She licked her
lips and stripped off his belt and tore his khakis in half as well, like
tissue paper, and balled them up, tossing them on the bed. She stalked towards
him, backing him down on the bed and leaning over him.

"I'm a married woman, Robert," she breathed, "but gosh darn it I'm having fun
and I think I want a taste of a different man tonight." While she whispered,
she closed her eyes and rubbed her bikini-clad pussy along the length of his
hard on, teasing her lips with its tip before breathing in sharply and opening
her eyes, her look ravenous. Robert looked a mixture frightened and aroused,
but it didn't matter to her, because she knew he would love every minute of
it.