A Housewife Changes continued - Part Six - The Lessons of Texas

In this episode Sarah conquers a few challenges, and comes up with plans to carry out her goals, gets even stronger and has a lot of sex.

Sarah

The next day is arms, chest and back day at the gym, so I eat a health
breakfast in the buffet, going back for more after Richard leaves for his
business meeting. Again, I relax with the paper and another cup of coffee in
order to let things digest. I am going to split today's workout, part of it
will be in the morning and part in the afternoon. With all the supersets I do,
It is hard to get things done quickly. I find, though, that either the
creatine, the little pills, the amount I eat, the supplements I take or just
my god given genetics allows me to recover faster than most people. I can work
each body part hard three times a week and sometimes more.

Today I feel really good, the best I have felt in weeks. Don't get me wrong, I
always look forward to working out; every day I approach it with excitement
because I know I am doing something good for my body. However, there is still
the fact that I have to move all that metal around, and it is very heavy. Some
days are better than others. Today is one of the best ever.

When I get to the gym, the man mountain is nowhere to be seen, but I begin my
workout. Rather than starting with bench, which I almost always do, I start
with back. I do lat pulldowns. Upright and seated rows. Side lat raises, front
hammer raises, And variety of other exercises designed to build the size,
symmetry, and flexibility of the back muscles. I love the feeling in the
middle of a group of sets when the muscles feel a little bit inflexible but
strong, because that is the result of blood rushing to them to feed them with
oxygen. The breakdown of the muscle tissue always leads, with proper rest and
flushing out of the lactic acid, to the building of bigger and stronger muscle
tissue. I reach that point in my fourth superset of seated rows, and look at
myself in the mirror to see the bulge of my lats.

After I do the shrugs, I notice with pride that my trapezius muscles have
swelled up in much the same way. The net effect is to energize me and make me
seek greater gains in the other areas I am working on that day.

After I work my back, it is time for a little cardio. I look all around the
gym and still don't see my challenger, So I take a break for some supplements
and a little food and start to attack my chest. Once again, I am feeling
better than ever, so I take the chance and begin my pyramid workout, not at
225 but at 275. From there, I will go to 325 and then to 395. Doing eight reps
and then removing twenty pounds quickly to superset at a slightly lighter
weight. I am feeling so good that when I reach 395 and finish my reps, I
decide to challenge myself. The big guy, whom I still haven't seen did 425
yesterday. I am going to put four plates on the end of each bar, four big ones
of 45 pounds each, and then a twenty-five, just to see if I can do it. I get a
few onlookers to agree to spot me; they are happy to do so, because they have
been ogling me for the past hour. I remove the weight from the cradle, grip it
tightly and bring it down to my chest. At first, it does not want to move as I
press it upwards, but gradually I push it all the way up, and then I feel a
rush of adrenalin. I do not rack it at that point; I bring it down to my chest
and do another rep and then another. I do not stop until I have pressed it up
eight times. I finally rack the bar. I have done eight good reps with 425. I
could have done that with one hand as Amazonika, but this was all me.

I continue through the rest of my workout. Nothing else is as impressive as
that bench display, but I am pretty well beat when I am done. At this point, I
learn that my opponent has arrived and did some cardio and some warming up.
Today he did no hard workout, as he wanted to save his energy for the match.
"Bastard!" I thought. I wish I could skip out on the challenge as he did
yesterday, but that would be seen as weak, so I agree to begin in fifteen
minutes. I retire to the locker room for a few moments. My arms are lke
rubber, because I had a tough arm workout after the back and chest. They look
engorged and huge. They are striated and the vein going over the top is
prominent. I know I look great; I am just worried I will be too tired to mount
any kind of attack or defense.

He comes out full of bravado and says, "You willing to put your money where
your mouth is little lady?" I look at him and flex, as if to say, "Don't call
me little lady." He is not intimidated. "I take that as a no. What? Are you
afraid of losing? I have a thousand dollars on the table says you can't win
two out of three against me. In fact, I doubt you'll even take one."

I hesitate. I have worked my ass off today and I am exhausted, but this man's
boastfulness is tiresome. "I'll do better than that. I'll take your thousand
and add in dinner tonight at the Big Texan steak house," I said. Then, turning
to all the onlookers, "I'll take any of your bets. If he wins, I pay you; if I
win, you donate the amount you bet to a charity of my choosing." The guys who
spotted me know how strong I am, but they like the idea of either winning
money or watching this asshole get shut up. Soon, there is a kitty of
promisory notes totaling $10,000. This is the beginning of my fund for the
abused women's shelter.

This gym has an official heavy duty arm-wrestling table. I gather, the man
mountain, whose name is Jim "Biggie" Van Houten, has been the gym champion
more often than not over the past ten years. I am exhausted, but I have a lot
on the line. I grab my handle and put my right arm up. He does the same. We
lock arms and the match begins. He starts to push, and he pushes hard, hoping
to take me down right away and intimidate me, but I am ready for him.
Surprisingly to me, he does not budge my arm. He grunts and tries again.
Still, no movement. "Hmm, I am thinking. Is he toying with me?" But I don't
think so, and I muster my energy and push hard. Bang down he goes. The crowd
goes wild. Twenty-five seconds into the match, and he has gone down once. Now
all I have to do is beat him one more time.

The second time, he decides on a different tactic. He will wait me out and get
me tired. So I decide to end it as quickly as I can. I feel him out for about
five seconds, and then I push hard. This time he does not move quite so
easily. I notice his eyes have a determined look, and his mountainous arm is
swelling to a huge size. I decide to play a defensive game for a moment, to
make him think he can win, he pushes my arm back; it goes down, down, to
within inches of the pad. I sense a feeling of overconfidence in him and I
feed that by putting on a look of fear. "What's wrong?" he asks. Are you too
tired from the first match?" Then he makes like he is going to end it, and as
he gathers himself for a final push I mount my counter attack. He is quickly
up at parallel and heading down. I don't stop this progress until he is down
all the way,. And then I pick his hand up and slam it down again for good
measure."

I turn with a smile and say "Y'all can make those checks out to Amazonika's
Home for Battered Women. You've been so hospitable." Then I turn to my
opponent and say. "I'll see you for steak tonight. Is 7:00 ok? but don't
worry, I hear that anyone who finishes the Big Texan in less than an hour
doesn't have to pay for it. I plan to finish it just like I finished you.
Quickly. Oh, and Biggie. Bring your wife; I'm bringing my husband"

Richard

After I left Sarah at the hotel this morning, I walked to my meeting. It was a
nice day, and I wanted to take in the sights and the smells of the town of
Amarillo. It is not a big city, but it's growing, and growth is a good thing
in business. We had a successful meeting and ironed out all the important
details. Latella Enterprises was going to be doing business in Amarillo. I was
buoyant when I returned to the hotel.

Sarah was there too with a huge smile on her face looking like a million
bucks. "I take it things went well for you, Richard. I can tell by that
shit-eating grin on your face. Things went well for me too. I got the first
eleven thousand dollars of donations to the Battered Women's shelter."

"Congatulations," I said, though I knew something odd had happened, because
Sarah never uses terms like "shit-eating" for any reason. Tell me about it.

"Oh, this man named Biggie Van Houten made the mistake of challenging me in
arm-wrestling. There were a few side wagers, and well, I made a bunch of them
with bystanders and with Biggie. If he won, I would pay, if I won, they would
help fund the charity of my choice. The battered women's shelter made out very
well thank you. It was two out of three, and well, I only needed two rounds.
Not only that; we are going out for the best steak in Texas, and he's paying
for dinner tonight."

"Biggie" Van Houten. That name sounds familiar. Oh yes, one of the pain people
at the company that just bought our product is named Van Houten, an older
fellow. Perhaps this is his son. Well, that would be too many coincidences in
one month. You keep on physically dominating the people I work with or their
relatives, and I won't have any clients or workers left."

"On a hunch, I had him bring his wife. I would not be surprised if she suffers
in that home, suffers in a way that I am trying to end. He did not seem like a
pleasant sort of guy. A little underhanded, a little sly, and definitely full
of himself. ... I don't know, it was just a hunch. I hope I am wrong.

"I hope so too. His dad was a great guy. An old fashioned man's man, but a
quality person. I am surprised the son is so different." Soon we were dressed
and ready to go to the Big Texan Steakhouse in Amarillo Texas, featuring the
72 oz. Big Texan sirloin steak. They have other things to eat than just steak,
and they have many smaller options than the Big Texan. However, that is what
they are famous for. If you can finish it in less than an hour, it's on the
house, but if you don't, it is a costly choice for dinner. Knowing Sarah, she
was going to try the Big Texan, and knowing her, she was going to finish it in
well less than an hour.

We arrived and waited for Biggie and his wife to show up. Soon a huge man
sauntered in the door with a petite 5'6" blonde trailing behind him. She
walked with pride and confidence and did not look anything like an abused
wife. Sarah noticed the same thing.

"My hunch may have been wrong. It looks like she's healthy and happy," I
whispered as they approached.

"Hi, Sarah," he said, though it sounded more like Haah. "This is my wife 'Lady
Bug.' Her parents were huge fans of former President Lyndon Johnson, so they
named her after his wife, ... sort of. Lady Bug rather than Lady Bird, but you
get the point. We Texans sometimes give our kids funny names.

"I'm Richard," I said, "and you know Sarah obviously. I understand you made a
generous donation to her fund for a battered women's shelter."

"You did that?" Lady Bird asked him. "How nice, that must be because of your
sister and that horrible man she is married to.

"Well, no, It's because I lost a bet, but when I heard what the charity was, I
was happy about it," he said to her. Then he looked at us and said, "My sister
made an unfortunate choice in husbands. She pays on a monthly basis. I try to
scare him with my size and everything, but he always has his shotguns handy
when I am around. And my sister, she don't complain much, but I know what's
happening and I know she's unhappy about it."

I glanced at Richard, and he just shook his head imperceptibly. My eyes said
"Why not?" His look said, wrong time and place.

We ordered; the food came, and once again I was competing with Biggie. This
time, having totally misjudged his character, I was less intent on beating
him. The record for eating one of these steaks used to be about half an hour.
In this day and age of over eating and food shows like Man vs Food and the
Nathans Original hot dog eating contest, the times have come down. One skinny
woman of 120 pounds at three of them in one sitting and finished in twenty
minutes. I planned to finish just one.

When our food came, Biggie and I both dove in. We had to make a pretense of
eating politely, and we had to chew so we did not choke, but we were both
eating like soldiers who hadn't seen food in three days. I smiled at him
knowing that we both were competing to win, but now that I had heard his
story, I really didn't want to. As it turned out, we ate at about the same
pace, and after around 23 minutes we simultaneously took our last bites and
put our forks down on the table.

"Biggie, that was a good steak," my wife crowed.

"It sure was, but it is in the past tense now. Both of 'em are. I'm happy to
pick up the tab tonight. Four of us ate for the price of one plate of fried
chicken and one 20 oz porterhouse steak."

I said, "I am celebrating too. My company swung a deal with a major
manufacturing company in Amarillo."

"Not Johnson, Smith and VanHouten by any chance?" Biggie exclaimed.

"The same," I said. "I suppose you are related to the Van Houten on the
letterhead.

"That's my pop," he said. "So you're the hot shot manufacturer of robots from
the puny little state of New York?"

"Yes I am. It's a small world. We will be back in town occasionally to
instruct people on the uses of the robots and to service them occasionally, so
you haven't seen the end of us."

"And when I come to town with my husband, it would be a pleasure to workout
with you, Biggie," I said. Then I whispered surreptitiously, "I may even have
a friend who could help your sister with her little problem. It was because of
women like her all over this country that I made it my goal to end spousal
abuse." We shook hands, and as we left the restaurant, I had a newfound
respect for the man whom I was ready to hate.

When we got back to the hotel I decided it was time to rub my wife's back. I
slowly removed her clothes and lay her down on the bed face first. I started
at the neck and massaged her traps, then all her back muscles. Then her
shoulders and arms. Pretty soon, a simple backrub was not going to be enough,
and what we did do, we did gently and calmly and lovingly until we once more
fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, I awoke to see him staring at me. He reached over to pull me
closer, kissing me softly on the lips, the cheeks, the forehead, and around
the eyes. He pulls the sheet down and kisses my nipples and all around my
tits, making me feel every inch the woman. He lightly nips the tip of one of
my tits, and then starts to massage them with his free hand. When he rolls on
his back, the sheets form a tent under his huge penis, and I reach under and
grab it, using it as a lever to turn him towards me again. He strokes my face
with his hands and then proceeds to caress my shoulders, arms, and hips. He
follows the outer contours of my legs, and massages my feet before tickling
the inside of my legs and arriving at the focus of my sexual sensitivity.

Then he kisses my abs and pelvis and then my vulva. He brings me close to
climax between his fingers, lips and tongue, and then he stops, momentarily,
to increase my anticipation. Then he licks again. He finds my clit and
massages it gently with his lips. Then he grabs my prodigious butt and makes
as if he will roughly force himself inside my vulva, but he stops, gently
rubbing the tip of his monster against me until I am overwhelmed with
sensations. I shiver up and down my spine. Then he slows down.

Finally, he starts to press his his cock into my vagina, slowly, oh so slowly.
It is so big that I hurt, but he senses this before it happens and gently
withdraws. He enters ever so slightly more this time, and then he withdraws to
massage my whole sexual area with the tip of his erection. Finally, when my
whole vagina is dripping wet, or seemingly so, he enters and gently, oh so
gently, pushes himself inside. Rocking back and forth, we reach our climax at
almost the same moment. Our lips are joined, Our hips are joined, and our
bodies totally entwined as if we are one, and that is how I feel. He has
touched me in ways that only he can do. I look at his face, and I see the face
of love. This is what God is to me, unconditional love that is returned and
shared. We have ended the previous night this way and started today. It is an
indelible memory of our time in Amarillo. I am relaxed, fulfilled, and happy.

Alanna Hussell

I start calling people about the bike races for charity. Most of them are
interested. They suggest looking for sponsors, and I realize that my boss
would be the perfect target. Both Sarah and I could approach him for
sponsorship. I also call the local bike shops, and they agree to donate some
loot or a gift card to the winners of the various age groups.

Then it hits me, people do not know the first things about Sarah, she is my
secret weapon. If I plan a fifteen-mile loop with a long hill in it and
require each person to do it twice, we could have a sixty-mile tag team relay
race. I could require an extra-large race entry fee and justify it by
promising a winner's share going to every team, male or female, that could
beat the two of us. I could even promise the winner's share to any all-female
team within twenty minutes of our time. The numers can be worked out, but this
competition looks like something that will work.

Of course, we would decline any of the victory loot, so even the teams that
did not beat us would receive some winnings. That ought to generate some
interest, but the big enticement would be the large cash prize given to anyone
who beat us. I am not as good as the best men in the region, but I'm damn
close. That could frighten some of them; But they don't know shit about my
secret weapon.

I'm so excited I could wet my pants. She is so fucking fast on that bike now,
and I wonder how good she could get if I trained her really hard secretly.
This plan could generate many thousands of dollars, and if we get sponsorship
in the right amount, we could really make a lot for our shelter.

Richard

On our flight home I sit in stunned silence, thinking back to the incredible
sex we had each of the last two nights and this morning. Having a wife who was
nearly perfect in every way become the physical woman of my dreams has given
me a whole new lease on life. I no longer have to fantasize about muscular
women; I no longer have to dream about what it would be like to have sex with
them. It is my reality.

I no longer have to deal with a wife who is unhappy in her work. I always
loved talking to Sarah, but in the last years before she left the advertising
firm, it became repetitive. She constantly complained about her bosses, her
co-workers, and the work she had to do. Now, she looks forward to each day.
She is so happy and so content with her life that it took me a while to
convince her she could take a day off from working out in order to fly home
and then have family time when we got there on Sunday afternoon.

On the plane, we talked about her plans.

"Richard, can I talk to you about something?

"You already are, my love, and who am I to stop you?"

"You know what I mean, but well, I love the work I am doing, and I think it is
going to make a difference in the lives of people and in preventing further
abuse, but it won't be the same as when I went over to Stan's house and
prevented him from maiming or even killing his wife. The only thing that
bothers me is that our plan doesn't do anything about the people who are being
battered right now. Is there a way we can empower some of them , and I mean
now, not in the future?"

"Well, I could rub cream on myself and have sex with all of them, but that
might be difficult. I'm not sure I can get aroused without you there."

"My muscles do come in useful for that."

"Your muscles and the fact that I have always worshipped the ground you walk
on. Hmm," and then he started chuckling and then he laughed. "We could have a
Caribbean or Hawaiian luau with various drinks, including various types of
Pina Coladas, with specialty ones for battered wives we knew about."

He said it with a smile on his face and yet I knew he was more than
half-serious.

"Just think of the fun we could have getting the ingredients."

"I know you are half kidding, but you're half serious too. It sounds kind-of
gross, but if they don't know what they are drinking, and it tastes just like
Pina colada, then it IS a Pina colada," I said. "And yes, it would be fun
gathering the ingredients."

Richard thought it might be a good idea to check with the little man in the
potion shop to see if the idea would work. How long would the power of the
"serum" last? Would it work? Etc. I agreed this was an idea.

"You know," Richard said, we could even arrange an impromptu arm-wrestling
contest afterwards with all the people invited, from the weakest to the
strongest, participating in an elimination contest. If we did it after the
Pina coladas, we could have some surprising results that might go a long way
towards improving harmonious relations in the homes. Just a thought."

"It's a brilliant thought; I don't know what I would do without you." So we
promised each other to make plans for this almost as soon as we got home. The
ticklish part was finding people we knew who were caught in abusive
relationships that they couldn't, or for some reason didn't want to, escape.

Sarah

I was lost in thought as the flight continued. Richard read a book on the
making of Hamilton, the Musical, and I stared out the window thinking about
the whirlwind that had been the last eight months. Although I had always
picked up muscle easily, I was surprised at how easily I had picked it up this
time. Midsummer a year ago I had been 5'10" and had weighed around 140 to 145
pounds. Now I was 6' 2", (well that was somewhat fluky), and I weighed close
to 240 pounds. That was more than I had dreamed of, and I was really proud of
it. A part of me wanted to keep pushing my limits, to see how much pure muscle
and strength I could gain. Although some of my gains were due to the magical
serum emanating from Richard's loins after he rubbed the special cream over
his private parts, but most of it was due to my own hard work and my research
into supplements and diet. I was particularly proud of that fact.

On the other hand, life was difficult for a woman, even a perfectly
proportioned woman, if she was built as I now was built. Further, it was
getting tiresome to see the stares from people as we walked through airports
or did the grocery shopping. I really did not want to let it bother me, and,
in fact, I had begun wearing clothes to emphasize these traits rather than to
hide them. Today, for instance, instead of the oversized sweaters and loose
long skirts I used to wear, I was wearing a form fitting navy blue dress with
a low back and a low front with small straps from between the breasts, which
went around my neck. This allowed for freedom of movement. It held my boobs in
while allowing my wide shoulders to spread out and my huge bulging arms to
move about unimpeded. It was tight around the buttocks and legs, and went a
little past midthigh.

Unfortunately, it meant that Richard had to keep his mind in his book in order
to refrain from embarrassing himself. When I put the dress on in the hotel, he
said, "My God! Sarah. Do you want me to ruin my trousers in public."

"You might ruin your pants," I said. "But your reputation would be enhanced."
He laughed, but I knew he did not want renown in the local press as the
'well-endowed entrepreneurial multi-millionaire.' So I wore a shawl and walked
behind him most of the time in the airport. However, as we walked from the
desk to the gate, I noticed a lot of men needing to sit down and put their
brief cases or newspapers or books over their laps. It made me feel powerful.
It made me feel good.

However, despite this power and the way it made me feel, I decided that I was
going to push the limits for no more than six weeks more. I wanted to reach
250 or more and be able to set records in a few more of the lifts, and then I
wanted to get lean, to concentrate on endurance rather than pure power, maybe
bring the weight down to 210 or so, which at my height would be less
obtrusive. It might also aid in the bike races, which would be coming up in a
few months. But before then I was going to keep pushing and see what heights
of size and strength I could reach. The beauty of this was I could continue
eating a lot. I enjoyed feeding my appetite, and I got a huge kick out of
eating far more than the big men around me ate. Another month of that would
make me happy. Essentially, then, I wanted to get as big and as strong as
possible in the next six weeks, and then I would start getting lean. Today was
my enforced day off. Tomorrow I would start in earnest.

Richard

The day after we got home, I stopped at the potion shop and spoke to the
little man about the effects of the cream on third party recipients. He gave
me one of his obtuse answers. "Only the truly pure of heart can make the
serum." He said, "and only those in need can benefit from the elixir of love."
I guess he wasn't really being obtuse, but he did not directly answer the
question.

I asked him if the effects would diminish if we kept the semen/serum over a
length of time and would it help if we froze it after harvesting it, so to
speak. "The cold will not diminish the effects and might help in the
decorative distribution of the serum.

When I brought the news back to Sarah, she was pleased, and we decided to
package and freeze the magic serum in perfect doses of four tablespoons." So
we bought small cupcake liners and bought some extra cupcake pans. This would
be how we established a dose. Four tablespoons of serum in each miniature
cupcake, and we could grind these up in the blender with some actual Pina
Colada mix when we needed it.

To my chagrin, Sarah was not in a huge hurry to get started on harvesting the
serum, but two weeks after we got home from Texas, we packed the kids off for
a weekend with their friends, and we had ourselves the greatest weekend of sex
ever. Well, at least from my point of view. We weren't sure how much serum we
needed, but we decided in the interests of my trousers to get as much of it
this weekend as we could so that we wouldn't need to apply the serum again.

We had renovated our basement to accommodate for the growth of her body. A
large section of it extended under our patio, and we punched a wide class
encase gazebo type structure up through the ceiling that raised the height of
the ceiling to twenty feet. It also allowed sunlight into the basement room.
We installed a hydraulic lift, and part of the glass structure was designed to
fold back so that Amazonika the Avenger of the Abused could emerge from her
secret basement hideaway and save future victims of abuse. We were planning an
added garage with a custom vehicle and other things, but more on that later.
Suffice it to say, there was plenty of room in this basement for Amazonika to
emerge comfortably.

Sarah began the weekend on Friday evening with a huge meal to give me energy.
Secretly, I think she just wanted to keep eating and feeding that growing body
of hers. Really all I needed to give me energy was the sight of my wife
dancing for me. This time she did something she had not done in a while. She
took off her robe slowly and focused my attention on her huge tits. She leaned
forward and cupped the underside of each boob. Then she squeezed them forward
and together. Soon she leaned over me and tickled my erection with her
dangling breasts. Then, grabbing her breasts again, she massaged my dick with
the soft inside of her huge bulbous mounds of beauty. As I was nearing
ejaculation, she cooled it off and looked at me and said. I plan to take this
first dose of serum tonight. It should be my last. I want to grow to about
fifteen feet in height and proportional measurements for the rest of my body.

We had actually discussed this briefly, as we wanted to measure her for a
working costume for Amazonika, because we had plans for Amazonika to play a
super hero role in the future, defending women wherever they were being
bullied or abused.

With that, she teased me with a most muscular pose that focused on her huge
and striated pecs. They were so rounded and thick that a man could lose sight
of his hand in the space between them. When I inserted my fingers into the
space between them, the muscle rose above the knuckles and covered part of my
hand. The amount of movement she could generate in her tits merely by flexing
one side and then the other was extraordinary. It looked like she was doing
her own personal version of the wave, but her body was standing absolutely
still; it was the smallest of muscle contractions that caused this incredibly
sexy movement, and it brought me to the edge of orgasm.

Suddenly she pulled back and said, "Fuck!" an unusual word from her mout.
"You've gotten so big I almost didn't notice we haven't even used the cream;
that would have defeated the whole purpose of this exercise."

"Well, not the whole purpose," I said with a wink.

"Yeah, well a big part. Now you think cold thoughts for a moment. Think of
your grandmother naked."

"My grandmother was pretty hot in her youth," I teased her chuckling.

"Well then think of an ice bath." That cooled me off. Momentarily she came to
me with a handful of the cream and slathered it over my large but somewhat
less excited erection. Then she wiped her hands on a towel and went back to
work. Or was it play. Whatever it was, it worked quickly.

Once again she stood stock still, her feet planted on the floor, seemingly
doing nothing while she was actually flexing and relaxing her pecs,
alternating between right and left. The muscular part of her chest rose and
fell, and the fleshier part waved and gyrated. The effect was amazing, and she
noticed.

My God! She said, I hope I can get my mouth over that monster. I looked down
and indeed my dick was longer and a bit fatter. I leaned over and licked the
tip, easily. Then she leaned over, and with her long tongue, massages the
whole shaft and tickled my balls. I got closer and closer to climax. When she
placed her lips over my erect penis, it brought me even closer. Then she
massaged the main part of the shaft and I exploded into her mouth. Squirt
after squirt of muscular growth serum squirted into her mouth and went down
her gullet. She saved the last few handfuls for her chest.

"I can't forget these puppies," she said.

"Honey, I think those are full grown dogs." Then she winked and walked over to
the newly renovated part of our basement for the inevitable growth that was
going to come. No sooner was she standing under the new glazed portion of the
ceiling than her growth began. It seemed as if it ought to be accompanied by a
sound track of steel scraping against steel and stretching beyond its
capability of being stretched, but the growth occurred naturally and without
pain, other than the inevitable momentary pain of the initial seizure. The
muscles popped and stretched to immense size, and her body reached new heights
both literally and figuratively.

When the growth stopped, she sidled over to the new bench designed for her,
and grabbing a full Olympic weight bar, loaded with 535 pounds, in each hand,
she proceeded to do a set of fifteen dumbbell presses and then a set of ten
flyes. The she sat up and did alternating one-armed curls without stopping for
what seemed like ages. She also donned a specially designed backpack with 600
pounds of weight on it and then did 100 push-ups.

Then, keeping her backpack on, she lifted the two Olympic bars to her
shoulder, and holding them in place like two little dumbbells, performed
twenty deep squats as if she was simply squatting her body weight. Then she
put these things away and looked at me.

"I think I'm strong enough to fight crime," she said, and winked. "Let's
measure me and get back to having fun.

First, I got a ruler and a pencil, then she went over to the wall and picked
me up so I could see the top of her head and her shoulders and mark those
spots on the wall. Then she measured her neck, her chest in various places,
her shoulders, the width of her back while doing a lat spread, her waist and
so on. The numbers were so large as to render them meaningless to the average
person. Suffice it to say, she overshot her intended height by a few feet and
ended up being the same height as the famous statue of David, which will
provide a good reference point for what she looked like.

Her height, like that of the statue, was 17 feet, but her build made David
look like a skinny little boy. Her shoulders were considerably wider and
bigger, and her chest was much deeper. If Michelangelo had designed a statue
of the greatest Amazon warrior, he would have undershot her reality by a wide
margin. Her arms were the same length as those of the statue, but filled with
two and a half times as much brawn, and yet they hung down without brushing
her torso, because of the width of those shoulders. Her waist was about the
same as David's, but whereas he had an undefined, though clearly muscular,
look, her muscles formed ridges with depth to them, a washboard that would
destroy all but the toughest fabrics. Those abs ascended to a chest that was
deep and muscular but was also capped by beach ball sized breasts of perfect
symmetry and shape. At every turn, she was bigger and brawnier and more
symmetrical than the famous muscular statue.

After a few minutes, I had ample measurements to submit to a tailor to make
her outfit for Amazonika, and soon we were back to the intended purpose of the
evening and the entire rest of the weekend. We got right to it, and it didn't
take long to get me aroused. In fact, I had been in a state of excitement the
whole time I measured her incredible body. Really, you could have cast her in
bronze and placed her in front of the women's Hall of Fame in nearby Seneca
Falls, but it would have projected a very different and more modern image that
Susan B. Anthony or Elizabeth Cady Stanton would have wanted.

She leaned over and flicked my now seventeen-inch monster with her tongue and
then, gently with her right hand and arm, lifted my whole body up to her
pelvis so that I could enter my erection into her vagina. As Amazonica, she
could easily handle all seventeen inches and more. Then, she squeezed lightly
on and off with her pelvic floor muscles and soon I was about to explode. She
pulled me out at just the right moment and pumped with her left hand while
using a large pitcher to capture the valuable jiz. I was astounded at the
amount. Each pump was nearly a quarter of a cup, and I kept squirting until
the two quart pitcher was more than a quarter filled.

She held it up and smiled. "I'll give you a moment to recover while I meditate
and bring myself back to normal," she said.

"You will never be normal," I pointed out. "But normal is highly overrated."
She smiled at my comment, which, even though it was meant in levity, had a lot
of truth to it.

"I'm a little stiff" she said, "from yesterday's workout." Then she stretched
her arms over her head, and she arched her back in that unintentionally sexy
way that made every muscle ripple and made her boobs stand out. Immediately, I
was erect again.

"I guess you don't need rest yet," she said with a smile, and went back to
work. In moments, we had a two-quart pitcher that was more than half-full.
This time, I relaxed for some moments while she meditated. We had a fun
weekend, and somehow the fact that it was a duty did ot lessen our enjoyment.
By the end, we had procured five gallons of serum. At four tablespoons per
dose, even though some folks might need more than one dose, we knew we had
enough to last a while.

"Only five gallons, are you sure that's enough?" I joked. "Don't you think we
need to do this next weekend?"

"Oh, we don't need to use that as an excuse to have a lot of sex," she said.
And then she winked and smiled while she walked away.

I am one very lucky guy, I thought to myself. Yes I am. (to be continued)