The Abduction 
By Worshipper
Part 2



I told the guys to leave. Then I approached her slowly with my heart 
beating like a bass drum. Very slowly I brought my hand up to her left 
bicep. With the tips of my fingers I traced a line from her wrist to the 
inside of her elbow and paused. The bicep was mountainous. I began to 
traverse it. Unflexed, there was no peak, of course, but that huge mound 
rose upwards nonetheless. At the top I paused and let the rest of my 
hand cup her magnificent muscle. Almost overcome with heightened lust I 
got closer and began to whisper gentle kisses into her bulging flesh, 
roaming my lips across what seemed a vast expanse. After a while I 
started to kiss more passionately and to lick and suck, then to press my 
mouth against her rock-hard bicep. I began to groan softly. 

"Sounds like you're enjoying yourself." 

I flung myself back and fell to the floor. Rena was eyeing me and 
grinning sarcastically, if a bit lopsidedly. 

"What the hell did you give me to put me to sleep? It must have been 
damn strong." 

I haven't described what Rena looks like except for her magnificent 
muscles--probably because I am so obsessed by them, even now. No, 
especially now. But one of the really striking things is her beauty: 
shoulder-length auburn hair, penetratingly blue eyes, and, surprising 
for one whose body fat must otherwise measure in the low single digits, 
well-proportioned breasts. (They happen to be real; my researchers had 
provided me with photos of her development since her early teens.) 

Now she was conscious, albeit far from completely alert. As I awkwardly 
struggled to get up I found myself unable to wrest my gaze from her 
stare, but eventually my eyes strayed to other areas of her reviving 
physique. She was beginning to strain against the wrist cuffs, producing 
shocks of pleasure in me as I watched her biceps expand (expand!) beyond 
their unflexed size. With each motion the peak formed, hardened, and 
seemed to leap upwards. Then it subsided. And I was very aware that she 
was as yet far from full strength. Moreover, with her arms mostly 
outstretched, a true flex was impossible. 

"My god you're incredible." The words escaped my lips unbidden. "I... 
I'm so glad you're here." 

"Good grief, it's not as if I had any choice." She yawned and massively 
stretched both arms and legs, pushing against the cuffs. Her quads 
surged outwards as though pumped from within and the striations 
deepened, creating a dramatic play of light and shadow on her thighs. 

"I'm very sorry Rena, Ms. Danvers, but I really had no choice. I hope 
you're not too uncomfortable. I have wanted to meet you for a long time, 
but everyone knows that you refuse to do muscle worship sessions, that 
you only wrestle. I have no interest in wrestling." 

"Look at me." Her voice was stern and impossible to ignore. She was 
intent for a few moments and then laughed. "You're a liar," she said. 
"You're just too afraid to wrestle me. And you're all pumped up like a 
male bodybuilder. I crush guys like you before breakfast." 

Her words were scornful but accompanied by an ironic grin. "Well, you'd 
better get your touching--your "worshiping"--in now before I wake up and 
rip these things out of the wall." I hesitated. "Seriously, do it now. I 
swear I won't hurt you. Yet. I may even get a kick out of seeing you 
humiliate yourself." 

"Then why don't you do muscle worship sessions?" 

"Because I hate the idea of taking money without working for it." 

I tried to ignore my fear as I appoached her. 

"Start from the bottom." 

I can't imagine why I obeyed her, but I didn't question it for a second, 
even though my palms ached to cup her biceps, now a good inch or more 
larger after the partial flexing and stretching allowed by the cuffs. 

"Massage me with oil from the legs up." 

My heart skipped a beat. Oiling her was a fantasy come true--I had 
placed a bottle of oil on a table she couldn't have seen--and I realized 
that the suspense of working my way towards those huge arms would be a 
treat. 

"Aren't you the eager beaver." I must have walked back to the table 
faster than I thought. I grabbed the oil and came towards her. "You'd 
better slow down Bud. I like my massages thorough." 

I began, as she had asked, with her lower legs. Her calf muscles weren't 
really as large as most men's thighs, but they seemed enormous in my 
hands and the hardness was amazing. Her right calf muscle jutted out a 
good inch past my hands as they encircled her leg just below. Sliding 
them up and over meant turning two very sharp angles. In the middle I 
felt a deep, ridged triangle of steel. 

As I pressed my fingers against the unyielding muscle my own hardness 
was becoming uncomfortable; I'd been unbearably aroused for hours now. 
My god... I realized that several hours actually had passed since we 
last had drugged her. She must be almost wide awake. I looked up, past 
her voluptuously muscled abdominal area, over her breasts, and saw her 
looking down, amused. I knew it was impossible for anyone to break out 
of these restraints. And yet... 

As I began to massage her thigh my nervousness increased. Somehow she 
knew. 

"What's up doc? Getting scared? Think I can tear this thing out?" 

As she spoke, the thigh I was holding hardened and grew unbelievably. I 
looked down at the cuff anxiously but was relieved to see that it didn't 
budge. 

"Why did you call me doc?" I asked, ignoring the awful content of her 
other questions and trying to sound brave. "My name is Smyth, Fred 
Smyth." 

"Thanks for the intro Freddy, but we both know it's bullshit. Smith, 
Smyth, I'll find out your name eventually." She paused. "What do you 
think of my thighs? There you are, almost between them. Why not put your 
head where I can do some damage?" 

On my knees, I was positioned with my eyes just about level with her 
panties. They were black, as was her bra. A bit of fluffy reddish brown 
hair curled out the side. I lowered my gaze to the spot on the wall 
between her upper legs. My head could fit, and, afterall, her legs were 
securely fastened, but each of her flexes was so huge, so powerful: 
would the space between her legs be enough? 

"You're probaby right." 

What the hell? I hadn't said anything! What was I right about? 

"This would hurt." With that, the distance between her thighs narrowed 
fast as the muscle fibers trembled and thickened at an unimaginable 
rate. If my head had been there--if a brick had been there!--it would 
have been crushed. 

Rena's laughter woke me from my frightened reverie and I hurriedly 
stood. She was so beautiful, and now I was face to face with her. We 
were roughly the same height and her eyes were locked on mine even as 
her wide smile crinkled their corners. "Aren't you going to massage my 
abs?" 

I got back to work, gulping in air as she flexed her stomach muscles. 
"Think you could hurt me here?" she whispered and giggled. 

"Rena, please don't make me do that. I really *do* know how to box and 
if I punched you you would be hurt." Saying this, I felt confident for 
the first time that day. I had hired professionals to teach me to box 
and even they were impressed by the strength of my blows. I'd been 
boxing for ten years. 

"Do it Freddie." 

We argued back and forth for several minutes, but in the end I took a 
towel, wiped the oil from her stomach and from my hands. 

I stood before her. "Ready?" 

"Do it." 

I punched at about half strength. 

"Is that all?" 

"Please Rena, don't make me..." 

"Do it" she interupted. 

I punched harder. My hand felt like I was punching the wall next to her. 
She just grinned. 

"C'mon Freddy, give it your best shot. This time maybe I'll even flex." 

Oh god. She was right. I realized that I'd been punching her unflexed 
abs. Now on her stomach appeared countless ridges--bands of iron. I 
became truly afraid. 

"Punch me Freddy, full strength, now." 

I reached back and let loose with all of the force others had found so 
hellish. It was as though I was in slow motion: I saw my hand zeroing in 
on her ridged abs, and saw my fist make contact, then time sped up as I 
felt an explosion of pain that began in my fist and shot through my arm. 

I must have screamed. "Shush Freddy, you'll wake the neighbors." She 
didn't know that she was in the basement of a mansion miles from any 
other homes. But that's not what I was thinking as tears sprang to my 
eyes. "No, it isn't broken," I thought as I flexed my fingers and looked 
up at this goddess of muscle. 

"Good thing it's not broken Fred. You haven't felt my biceps yet, at 
least not since I've been awake to flex for you. C'mon." 

I got up from where I had fallen and again stood before her. As she 
began to pull against the cuffs, the mound of muscle of each arm shot 
upwards and peaks began to form. But she stopped and the peaks 
disappeared. 

"You know Freddy," good grief, she sounded almost coquettish, "I don't 
think any massage is complete if it ignores my breasts, do you?" 

I must have looked stunned. 

"You can do it Freddy. Take off my bra." 

It was fastened in back and, restraints or no, I wasn't going to get 
that close. At the back of the room was one of my desks; inside were 
scissors. 

"Oooh, aren't you imaginative!" she said as I approached with them. 

My hand trembled slightly as I inserted one blade behind the material 
and cut through. The two halves lay covering her breasts, each bit of 
fabric held back by a prominent nipple. 

"You can do it Freddy." 

I gently pulled the black fabric away. She arched her back and the bra 
fell to the floor. Very rounded breasts stood out and her nipples rose 
to greet me. 

"Suck them Freddy." 

Heedless of the danger of closeness, I couldn't stop myself from moving 
my head to her chest and doing as she asked.