The Housewife Changes - Part Nine - Amazonika Conquers All
by Scheherezade the Amazon
In this section, Sarah completes her bike race and seeks revenge on a number of abusers. She also gets a few surprises at home that will change her future.


Richard

Last night we made Amazonika come out by having sex. Ostensibly, we did this
so Sarah could try on her outfit and learn how to put it on fast, as she will
need to do so in an emergency. The sex was either an added benefit or else the
main purpose; I wasn't sure which.

Tonight we plan to use the weight lifting method of bringing out her hugeness
and try out the new equipment as well. I am curious to see how the car, the
trap door and pneumatic lift, and the secret tunnel work. Plus, it will be a
turn-on for me to watch her lift incredible amounts of weight to become huge.
Watching my incredible wife do amazing things is always a turn-on and I thank
God on a daily basis that I was lazy about hiding my old WPW magazines.
Otherwise, she never would have known how much I am attracted to muscular
women, and she never would have done all that work she loves just to become
big, and strong, and powerful.

She is still eating a lot, and her body burns it off. Tonight, for instance, I
brought home two four pound steaks for our family of four. The kids and I
finished off, perhaps, only half of one of them, and yet, there were no
leftovers. Added to this were eight cups of cooked wild rice, four heads of
broccoli, and pitchers of water. Sarah could not eat more than Joey Chestnut
or Molly Schuyler in an eating contest, but she has an appetite on a daily
basis that is gargantuan and a bit surprising for a woman. She needs it to
maintain her weight at 275, something she had decided not to do but seems to
be delaying doing anything about it. I don't mind. I love seeing her this
size, because every inch of her body is strong and toned, and her body fat
levels are low, less than fifteen percent. When she flexes any muscle group, I
get weak in the knees ... and strong between the legs.

After dinner, we watched a TV show with the kids and then sent them upstairs
to do homework. After about an hour of that, we sent them to bed and went to
the basement. I sat on the couch and smiled and said, "OK, I'll put a watch on
this." Then I said, "Go!"

The first thing she did was to put multiple hundred-pound plates at each end
of the bench bar. She got underneath eight hundred pounds and started to
press. At first she could not get it out of the cradle, but then she grunted,
concentrated and squeezed. After a moment, the weight bar came off the cradle
and she brought it to her chest and pressed it up eight times, each one
seeming easier than before. The power of Amazonika was releasing. Then she
stood up, and lifted the bar with both hands to the big bench. She added two
more hundreds to each end of the bar. Soon her body was growing and her
clothes were shredded.

I almost ruined my own shorts watching her shirt disintegrate and her shorts
stretch to the point of destruction. Then she slid, in her half-naked
condition, underneath the bar with 1200 pounds on it and did twenty-five
repetitions with ease. "I guess I am done," she said, and then took eighteen
seconds to get into her outfit. I watched her striated pectoral muscles swell
and bounce as she got dressed; it was intoxicatingly sexy for me. She knew its
effect and struck a most muscular pose for me for a few seconds before
finishing. After a mere three minutes and eight seconds stood Amazonika, huge,
fully clothed, and ready to fight sexual abuse.

After this she and I jumped into the elevator which quickly catapulted us to
the poolside level. Then pulling on what appeared to be a statue, she
activated a secret door into a garage behind a false wall in the actual
garage. Inside was a huge Hummer that we had modified to accommodate her bulk.
I hopped into the passenger seat, and she got into the driver's seat. Then she
pressed a remote and a pneumatic lift dropped the car speedily but safely into
a different level with a tunnel leaving our premises. We emerged from a gate
that was covered with Ivy to obscure its existence and were out on the back
roads. In a moment we were travelling through the back country roads near our
town. We could experiment there with the speed of the vehicle. It was easy to
generate great speeds, and she safely maneuvered to speeds approaching 125
MPH.

After a few minutes of driving fast and testing out the car, we retreated from
whence we had come. The secret gate opened; the car drove through the tunnel,
and the pneumatic elevator that had dropped us into the tunnel, raised us back
into the secret garage before rotating to turn the car so it would be aimed in
the right direction for a hasty exit.

We were excited for the future. We had spent a lot of time and money creating
a way for Sarah to help those who were being abused or were threatened with it
through physical intervention. I could not wait for her to have the chance to
put the car and the secret passages to good use. That chance came sooner than
later.

Sarah

I was incredibly excited after we completed our dry run of the whole process
of my becoming Amazonika. I could not wait until I got a call for help. As it
turned out, I did not have to wait very long. Around midnight of the night we
had tested the vehicle and the escape route, I got a panicked call from a
co-ed at the local university who said two young men who seemed very "sketchy"
were following her. They had been at the same bar as her, and had been
watching her dance. It was the way they watched combined with the fact that
they packed up and left as soon as she did that made her nervous.

I lifted the requisite weights, got into my uniform, and drove the Amazonika
Hummer out the secret driveway. I reached the college campus in a matter of
minutes, left the car with its flashers and ran to where my phone identified
the call as having originated.

I got there just in time, as one of the perps had the girl in a modified
double nelson. His arms had locked hers behind her, and she faced a greasy
looking guy with a dark thin beard and stringy dark hair. He approached her
with a knife and said, "Those pretty little jeans are coming off first. Then
I'll unlock the lacey underwear from your tight little butt, bitch."

"Not if I have anything to say about it, scumbag!" I said with conviction, and
I lifted him up by the scruff of his jacket and shirt.

"What the fuck!" he said as his partner in crime screamed, "Who the fuck are
you?" and let the girl go. She ran and hid in some nearby bushes, and watched
as I grabbed the other one by the arm and shoulder with my other hand. There I
was, this seventeen-foot giant, holding two scuzzy looking men eight feet off
the ground. I turned them to face me and asked, "What makes you think you have
the right to rape this woman?"

"Well, you should have seen the way she was dancing in the bar. She wanted
it."

I shook with anger as I held them up. "So because she danced in a somewhat
provocative way, you think you have the right to rape her? That is the most
ludicrous thing I have ever heard. I guess because you decided to rape
someone, then I have the right to mess with you?"

"Well, no that's not what we meant."

"No? It's the same principle. Learn how to talk to women. Clean up your act.
Treat them like human beings and not like pieces of meat for you to have sex
with and you will have far more success. I am Amazonika, Avenger of the
Abused, and you are scum of the earth." I tossed one of them in the air and
then caught him in one had. "You will never treat women or anyone for that
matter, like this again, will you?"

"They shook their heads and offered a shaky, "N ... No."

Then, I knocked the two of them lightly together, but my idea of lightly was
more violent than they would have wanted. I heard the breath come out of them.
They were not concussed or even seriously hurt, just scared out of their
minds, so I tossed them into a set of bushes and went to rescue the girl.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Jane, uh Jane Smith," she said.

"OK, Jane Smith," I knew it was a fake name. "I am Amazonika, Avenger of the
Abused. You are definitely safe now. Let me give you a ride to your dorm or
apartment."

She told me how she had heard of this new hotline number and had dialed it,
hoping it would save her. Then she looked at me and asked, "Who are you
really? I mean I have never seen anyone like you."

I stared at her and said, "I already told you."

"Well, whatever." She thanked me profusely and gave me an address.

I gave her a card and said, "This is the name and address of someone who can
help you. She will train you and give you gym acccess for free as well as
putting you in touch with people who can help you if you have any
psychological fallout from tonight's events. ... You can give her your actual
name," and after I pause, I continued. "I don't think those guys will bother
you or anyone again."

Then I dropped her off and returned home with a smile on my face and the
thrill of having made a difference coursing through my veins. Women would be
getting the word that they could rely on the new hotline, so I knew my
business would be growing, at least until men realized the consequences of
mistreating women in west central New York. I returned to the house, and
meditated in the basement until I was my normal size. From there I quietly
crept upstairs and snuggled in bed next to my husband.

"I presume you were successful in fighting crime," he said, "and that is why
you seem so calm and happy."

"Yes, and I didn't need to really hurt the perpetrators. I think I scared
them, though. I tossed one in the air about fifteen feet and then caught him
in my hand. Being seventeen feet tall has its advantages. But speaking of
size, I have decided that tomorrow is when I begin my true efforts to return
to a more normal looking size. I guess I will do what bodybuilders do when
they are preparing for a contest."

True to my word, I changed my workout schedule to emphasize more cardio, more
reps, and lighter weights. I also changed my diet to include less food
altogether. The latter part of this plan was difficult, because I was always
hungry, so I just replaced much of the meat protein with an increase in green
vegetables, especially leafy greens.

Within weeks, the pounds started to come off my body. I went from 275 to 268
in one week, and then I lost another five pounds for each of the following
three weeks. By the time of my bicycle race, I was down to 225 and incredibly
cut. I actually gained a few pounds that week, because I consumed more protein
during the last two weeks leading up to the race.

The advantage of all this for the bike race was that I had not really reduced
my overall strength, but I did reduce the amount of weight I was carrying on
the bike. In my training with Alanna, I was ripping off some incredibly fast
times. In truth, since I had done so little racing before, I had no idea how
good my times were. I just knew that when Alanna and I really pushed over a
fifty or sixty mile training ride, I would finish at least twenty-five minutes
ahead of her, and the distance between us kept increasing as the date for the
race approached.

Alanna Hussell

I have been training that freak, Sarah Latella, for the upcoming bicycle race
for about two months now. She has always been strong as fuck, but she is a
monster now. The freaking amazing thing is that she doesn't have the slightest
idea how good she is. I have been improving my times over the last months, and
I mean by a lot. But every time I go and ride a personal record on one of my
tough routes, she is so far ahead of me after even four miles that I can't see
her. She finished forty minutes ahead of me the other day on a route that I
know I rode well. No shit! I rode a time that beat all but three of the men
who rode that course in a race last spring, and Sarah beat it by forty-three
minutes. (That topped the time of the fastest male in last year's race by
thirty-five minutes.)

I can't wait to see the look on the faces of the men in that relay race when
she blows by them going up-hill and then keeps powering downhill to leave them
eating her fucking dust.

The most amazing thing about her is that she has cut down on her size for this
race; at least I think it is for this race. Whatever, she looks good, but
oddly, I don't really care about her that way anymore, because of Brittany,
whom she introduced to me. Brittany has begun to pack on the pounds herself in
a good way. Her legs are sturdier; her arms are harder and bigger, and her
chest is more striated and thicker. She showed me pictures of what she looked
like just eight months ago. Who would have thought she could transform from
the stereotypical librarian hippy to this gorgeous powerful woman who looks
like a freaking CrossFit instructor?

Sarah

I am glad I decided to lose that weight; it has made riding a lot easier. I
didn't realize how much the extra weight of large muscles slowed me down on
the bicycle. Alanna has been working me very hard. I have never trained this
hard for a specific event in my life. In gymnastics we trained hard, but it
was for a season of events. This is for one race. However, the preregistration
has been huge, and there are some very challenging teams, according to Alanna.

She has been filling me in. She is going to ride the first leg, and when she
hands off to me, I should be a few miles behind. She tells me it will be
nothing for me to make up that distance, and that I might even make it up in
the first loop. I don't know, but she has been telling me my times are really
impressive, so I believe her.

The day arrived, and we gathered at the starting line. I was antsy, and I
wanted to ride, but she had a forty-four mile ride first. (actually, two
twenty-two mile rides technically.) She went out pretty fast, actually about
the same as she normally goes out, and she was trailing only three of the men
and none of the women after the first twenty-two mile loop. She looked good at
the halfway point, and I was thinking she would catch the guy who was in third
place. He was looking tired, at least to me, and sure enough, when she came in
after the second loop, she trailed only two of the contestants. The leader was
about seven minutes ahead, and the next one was only about three minutes
ahead. The guy she caught was probably about a minute behind. Supposedly, the
fastest rider left was the guy behind me, but I wasn't worried about him, I
wanted to catch the two in front of me.

I took off like a bat outta hell. I know no other way. Before long, I saw the
second place rider. After another mile, I pulled up next to him. When he saw
me, he was surprised.

"Fuck me!" he gasped between breaths. "I thought you were going to be Stuart.
I've never seen you before." I tried to pass him but he sped up. I pulled in
behind him, and we both pushed hard. About seventeen miles in there is a huge
hill, three miles long, which has some steep sections. I knew this was where I
could break him, because Alanna had told me the guy ahead of me was not a
lover of hills. She was right. I pulled outside and powered up the hill. As he
downshifted a lot, I only did so a couple of levels, at least on the gentle
part of the hill. I increased my cadence and blew by him. He struggled to stay
close, but I heard him say to himself, "Jesus, does she have a motor in her
body?" By the time I reached to top of the hill, he was almost out of sight
and the first place rider was within my sights.

As I had predicted, he was not pedaling hard. He was using the gravity of the
hill to maintain speed without having to tire himself out. I pulled my usual
strategy, and put it into high gear, both the bike and my legs. Soon my speed
reached over fifty miles per hour down the hill, and I swept past him as if he
was standing still. It happened so fast and so unexpectedly, that he could not
respond before I had built a quarter mile lead. Even after he responded, his
top speed was at least five MPH slower than I was going. By the time I reached
the halfway point, he was over a mile behind.

I decided to really gas it in the second loop. I looked back partway through
and did not see anyone, but the crowd was spurring me on. I actually began
passing people who were on their third lap, and they gave me cheers as I went
by. I got to the hill the second time and pushed hard, passing people at a
rate that surprised even me. When I finally reached the top of the hill, I set
as a goal to see if I could reach and even faster pace than before. While
others were gliding, I accelerated down the hill at what felt like breakneck
speed. I rounded the final corner and could see the finish one mile ahead.
There was no reason to hold back. By the time I finished we had won by five
miles. My thighs felt like jelly, but they looked like a million bucks. When I
got off the bike, they had swelled to huge proportions and every muscle group
stood out with veins.

We earned over $50,000 dollars in that bike race for the battered women's
shelter, and we had the satisfaction of beating everybody, even the men and
setting a team record for the course, breaking the old one by eleven minutes
and twenty-five seconds. I was no longer going to be a surprise in the
bike-racing world.

Brittany

Looking back over the past six months, I can't believe the things that have
happened. First, I met Sarah and initially thought she was deluded and would
be bad for the shelter, but she convinced me in a relatively short time that
her way was the best. She convinced me so thoroughly that I bought into her
philosophy in a big way.

Now I am fit and strong. I dare any man to approach me, though now, the way I
look and feel about myself, it is not such a far-fetched idea that they would.
The most amazing thing about her was her recognition of something in me that I
did not even know myself, my sexual preference for women. I must have known
deep down inside and have repressed it, but I didn't really know until the day
I won the armwrestling contest at Richard and Sarah's party. I lloked across
the table at Alanna that night and wanted badly to beat her, mainly so that I
could impress her.

Something clicked that night, and I have never looked back. Now I have
confidence and contentment I had never known. Further, I have the unqualified
love of another person. I have Sarah to thank. Watching her race to the finish
was a thing of beauty. She was going faster on her bike than I have ever seen
anyone go. The woman is as strong as any man, powerful, confident, and
beautiful to boot. Richard is a lucky man, but if I am going to be fair, a lot
of her success is probably due to the unwavering support she gets at home.
She's a lucky woman, too.

Sarah

In the coming weeks we purchased an older mansion in the main part of the old
town. We quietly built up the walls and planted ivy along the cast iron fence
to keep the place looking private. The trees were already stately, and the
building had, despite its old beauty, never attracted much attention.
Meanwhile, as quietly as possible, we started interior renovations. We built a
series of small apartments; some were designed for a single woman and some for
women with up to three small children. Brittany supervised the internal
affairs of the shelter, and I oversaw the creation of a gym with up-to-date
equipment as well as ample areas for tae-kwon do and other martial arts, which
were also proven benefits to people who had been abused. It seemed to take
forever to finish, but before we knew it, people had moved in.

I had ample opportunities to utilize my new costume and car. For the most part
my size and strength scared people enough that they backed off, and evidence
suggested that it had a chastening effect on those who met me. There seemed to
be very little recidivism.

I rarely had to resort to violence. The closest I came was a time when I was
called to the campus again. I entered the campus to find a few girls at a
fraternity party had been drugged and were being raped by multiple ass holes
in the house. I peeked in the upstairs window to see what was going on and
then went to the door. For effect, I ripped it off its hinges and went inside.
My sheer size made maneuvering indoors very difficult, but it also scared the
hell out of the brothers who were involved in the rape, and they all ran
outside to two cars that were parked facing each other.

They ran to their cars and were planning to drive away to safety. At this
point, I grabbed the front bumper of each car. I held one with my left and one
with my right, and lifted the front of each car off the ground. Neither car
could go anywhere. If some of them had been smart enough to run from the cars,
someone might have gotten away, but they revved the engines louder and louder
and then decided to wait me out.

"She'll get tired soon," a few of them shouted. Evidently, they did not know
me well. I decided to flip each car in the air and have it land on its roof.
Then it wouldn't go anywhere.

"You thought I would get tired! That's how tired I am." They started coming at
me with softball bats and golf clubs that were in their cars. As they swung
their weapons, I grabbed them and broke them in half or crushed them. Then I
started grabbing the kids and tying them up with some zip ties I had
conveniently carried with me."

I left them piled on top of each other, zip tied together feet. legs, hands
etc.. They were unable to get out and/or move, but they could see me. I stared
at them, made sure they were watching, and struck a most muscular pose and a
double biceps pose while grunting/screaming a guttural complaint. I felt my
Kevlar vest stretching and tearing, although I wanted to stop just to protect
this expensive part of the uniform, a part of me was amazed and turned on by
the fact that I was still able to grow by flexing. I kept going.

The vest kept making tearing sounds and then totally popped, and even the
triple thick spandex material stretched to its limits. I saw a reflection in
the second floor window of the nearby dorm. My shoulders were proportionally
so wide, that the V-shaped taper was greater than ever. My delts were rounder
and bigger and yet more striated than they had been. My chest muscles stood
out underneath my substantial boobs, so much so that I could have suffocated a
large man between the pecs, let alone the breasts, and my biceps were like
volcanic mountains ready to explode. I flexed and unflexed the biceps,
watching them rise and fall a foot or so with each change. The veins, which
had looked like garden hoses, now looked like two inch water pipers, but they
throbbed as they sent blood to the growing muscles. Even I was amazed.

"Holy, mother of God!" one of the frat boys yelled. "That is one hell of a lot
of scary woman!"

For good measure I picked up their cars, one by one, and crushed each one into
a ball of metal. I dropped them next to the pile of men. "This must be what
you meant when you said you had balls of iron earlier"

Before I left, I also left a note explaining that the boys had been caught in
the act of raping a girl. Amazonika, who was so appalled by the gang rape they
were committing in the fraternity house, was moved to action and subdued them.

I then ran to my car and left campus as quickly as I had come. The entire
operation took less than ten minutes. Usually they took longer. I discovered
that my muscles were strong enough to withstand certain types of bullets, and
that my hands were quick enough to catch them sometimes. In one case, I was
being shot at and caught the bullets. I gravely injured the perpetrator when I
threw them back at him nearly as fast as he had shot them at me. I guess, as
long as my motives were pure and I remained pure of heart, my superpowers were
even greater than simply being strong. It was nice to know.

That night, Richard and I decided to celebrate these victories over the bad
guys in the best way we knew how. I teased him, as I always did, and got the
same reaction. I sat in front of him and reached out with my long tongue,
wrapping it around his penis and squeezing it tightly; meanwhile he caressed
my nipples and then cupped my breasts, pushing them upwards in a way that
enhanced their look. He lightly rubbed my thighs, outside and then inside,
tickling them with the tips of his fingers before coming to rest on my vulva,
which he massaged like the experienced lover he was. Soon, I was in heaven,
and he was approaching Nirvanah. I stood astride his hips and slowly slid my
womanhood over his manhood, taking my time to let him enjoy it and to turn the
possible pain into pleasure. Then he tipped is head back, clenched his muscles
and gave a loud groan. He pumped more semen into me than he ever had, and I
wondered why, in all our past episodes, none of the little sperm had made
their way into one of my eggs. A few weeks later, I had proof that this time
one of them had. It put a little bit of a crimp into my newfound avocation,
but it was worth it when nine months later, 9 pound 13 oz. Joy Latella was
born. I began to wonder if her size was a harbinger of future things, but I
had other things to worry about.

I came home from riding the exercise bicycle at the gym one day and looked at
my son. Something seemed different about him He was bigger or something. That
is when my fourteen-year old Joey said, "Mom, I've had this funny feeling each
of the last four mornings."

"What kind of funny feeling?" I asked.

"Kind of a warm and tingly feeling, and my muscles kind of hurt a little. Then
it goes away."

"Well, as long as it goes away, ... but we should keep an eye on it."

"By the way," he said. "I have been using your special ice cubes in my morning
smoothie every day. They are really good."

"Joey!" I shouted at him, and then thought the better of it. "Joey," I said in
a lower tone. What made you think you could have one of those. They are for
special occasions. I think they might be the cause of your funny feelings."
Then I thought of something. "Joey, what is your max on bench and on squat?"

"Oh, about 160 in the bench for one rep and I can squat with a big plate, a
forty-five, on each end of the bar."

"Let's go downstairs and test those, "I said. "I think you may be a lot
stronger than you think."

We went downstairs and tried it out. Sure enough, he toyed with his max for
each of the lifts, and more than doubled his bench press, surpassing what his
father had lifted in college.

"What happened?" he asked, incredulous. Did you put fake weights in here or
something?"

"Nope," and I told him most of the story, leaving out the part about what the
serum was made from. "You are now a super-fast and super strong kid."

"Cool! I am going to kick ass in football next year."

"I'm sorry, you can't do that. You can only use your new super strength for
good purposes. You can develop it more and more and will get even stronger
just through hard work, but you can never play football with the other kids
your age. It wouldn't be right." He hung his head, disappointed but knowing I
was right.

"Well, if I can't play football, I can join you in your crusades against
rapists and wife beaters, can't I? ... I can do that can't I?"

I was proud of him. "Of course you can, honey. That is what the pure of heart
would do." I watched him as he smiled. "Yeah, I'll be Joey, the boy avenger."

We would have to work on the name, but I liked the idea. I really liked it.

(To be continued)