The Hook


"The most embarrassing thing in the entire world has just happened to 
you and you know full well that you are going to die very soon."
That's what my higher brain functions told the rest of my body 
immediately following what was, so far, the happiest moment of my 
life . . . but I'm getting ahead of myself.

	The Setup
Perhaps this whole story started when I was five (and a half!) years 
old when I came across a full-page article in the regional newspaper 
about a female bodybuilder from the small town of Wrystany, which was 
actually a couple of hours away from my own home city.  This was the 
first time that I was introduced to the concept of muscular women and 
I remember staring at this hard female figure who was demonstrating 
the power of her arms and back, with the words "Pumping Iron" framed 
around her head.  Through my five year old eyes, she had the big 
bazookas that I remembered liking from when Grandpa first showed me 
the woman named Dolly Parton on a record jacket (and taught me the 
word "bazookas" as a joke).
Even so, in this case, there was something more that held my eyes 
like magnets.  I was riveted to the spot by the crooked and rippling 
lines that accented her bulging, muscular body.  I was amazed by her 
strong but feminine physique that told me that she was much stronger 
that any man ever was.  Now, keep in mind that this was nearly 
fifteen - twenty years ago, when bodybuilding was just kind of 
getting out into the open for women, and she wouldn't be considered 
"big" by today's standards.  Even so, when you're a boy of five, the 
strongest human being in the world is your father, and then Superman 
after him.  When that seemingly infallible concept of biological 
order gets crashed by one weightlifting muscle-model, you have to 
realize that a child's world can be turned upside-down in an instant.  
As I looked in admiration at the definition in a picture of her 
stomach I felt a strange sensation "down there" that I hadn't ever 
felt before and got really freaked out.  I laugh now when I think 
back about how I chucked the whole paper into the garbage like it was 
the hand of evil and tried to put the whole thing out of my mind with 
Lego.
As it turned out, nothing could make me forget about that mental 
image and, over the next ten years, I realized that I still liked 
other women as well and that I wasn't "weird".  Granted they were few 
and far between, but I found more opportunities to see female 
bodybuilders in magazines and on TV.  Once, when I was fourteen, and 
feeling somewhat reflective, I went to the library archives of the 
newspaper and found the article about Miss "Pumping Iron" and found 
her name.  Karen Myers.  It's funny how a little piece of arbitrary 
information like a name can make an anecdote so much more real in 
your memory.  To top it all off, apparently she was a single mother 
of toddlers.  It goes to show you what determined people can do.
I'll share another little irony about myself with you, if you'd like.  
For someone who is so intrigued with muscles and fitness, I hardly 
started out as the most athletically-inclined person in the entire 
world.  To put it another way, I was rather slim.  To put that 
another way, I was so skinny that even if I could catch a football, 
it would run a good chance of taking my arms clean off.  To put that 
in even another way, the football could have just rolled off a 
kitchen table.  Therefore, when I was twelve, I started using the 
weights in the basement that my dad had abandoned just after I was 
born.  After six years of religious use, I still looked slim, but I 
also had some visible muscle mass on me.  Granted, I was still about 
as coordinated as a string symphony of crackheads, but I felt good 
about my self image.
With the exception of my friend Stacy who moved away when I was 
eight, I was never really confident around girls.  I only really felt 
self-possessed when I wrote and took pictures, a passion which led me 
to the facetiously supreme position of chief editor of my highschool 
newspaper and yearbook (which, incidentally, had a staff of five 
students, one of whom was me, three of whom never came to meetings, 
and one of whom was the teacher liaison).  That didn't matter to me, 
though.  I was quite content with the occasional peer recognition 
that I got with a few of my articles.  Also, the times I was working 
on the paper and the book, and the years of watching my "dating" 
friends (through a viewfinder) swerve in and out of emotionally 
destructive relationships like drunk bumper-cars, helped me develop a 
critical eye and an intelligent sense of humor.
With the exception of a few chipped teeth and a car accident the day 
after I got my learner's license, you now pretty much have a handle 
on my entire life, right up to when I was eighteen, when my life got 
turned on its ear again.  And now, onto the real story.

And Now The Real Story
The early morning after graduation, everybody else was at home and 
hung over after a long night of partying, screwing, dancing, and 
contributing to the delinquency of several minors.  Students, 
teachers, janitors, secretaries, everybody.  (Wusses!)  Everybody 
except the big-shot editor who had to layout a story from last night 
and then finish the yearbook's index section.  There were deadlines 
to meet before I could move on to University, you know. (Yawn!)  Back 
when highschool students cared about news, soda came from drugstores 
instead of big red machines, and marching bands performed at pep 
rallies, the student paper editors got a master building key to waltz 
in and work whenever they wanted to.  Ha!  Not the hockey captain, 
not the cheerleading squad, not even the teachers.  For four years, 
my skeleton key made me an undisclosed deity on par with the 
principal and janitor!  That secret key had been forgotten about by 
the school administration, and passed down from editor to editor, 
straight into my personal pocket for my personal use.  With no 
editors or student volunteers jumping on board next year, I was 
contemplating turning the key in . . . or hanging on to it.
Anyways, I was typing and mousing away at my craft when my coffee-
enhanced ears detected rhythmic clangs, bangs, and booms.  Thinking 
it was a group of graduated vandals (more likely future-upgrader 
vandals) who hadn't given up the previous evening's Vita Loca yet, I 
grabbed my camera and followed the sounds to their source.  After a 
few turns down familiar hallways, I found myself staring at the door 
to the school weight room.  As I got closer, I heard definitely-
female giggles.  I knew that the weight room had an outside-door, and 
I surmised that a group of jocks had knocked it down and were trying 
to impress some airhead girls.  The door that I was looking at 
entered into a small shower and change room, which led to the 
weights.
Remembering how well the school bathrooms carried sound, such as the 
sound of a twisted towel snapping me in the butt for example, I was 
careful to open the door quietly.  I gently slid the key into the 
lock, turned it slowly, and held my breath as I heard the faint 
grinding of the deadbolt.  Glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone 
or anything were behind me to make any noise, I got down low and 
pulled the door a half head's width open to peek in.  Seeing that the 
immediate coast was clear, I slipped in and cradled the door closed 
before locking it behind me.  The sound of girls voices and laughter 
was quite apparent now, but I realized that I didn't hear any male 
jock-type grunts.  I crept up to the exit of the change room.  I sat 
on the floor and faced away from the sounds in the other room and 
held my breath.  I leaned my back on the doorframe, popped off the 
lens cap.  I looked around the corner and my eyes nearly came out of 
my head.

All Right . . . The Real Story That You've Been Waiting For
The room was empty of vandals and the outer door was securely 
attached, but I didn't notice for a good ten seconds because all I 
could think about were the awesome female bodies that stood before 
me.  At first I thought there was only one girl and her reflection 
before my dazzled brain understood that I was looking at a pair of 
perfectly identical twins who were facing each other and doing bicep 
curls.  Weights of all kinds were scattered around their feet.  
Matching faces that belonged on models from Madrid were encircled by 
long wisps of curly golden hair that had fallen from the lush locks 
tied above their heads.  One twin had a single ponytail hanging out 
of the back of her head which gave a great view of her ample deltoids 
(each resembling something from a ten-pin bowling alley, only not as 
soft), and the other had two pigtails that showed off the sizable 
strength in her back (that an all terrain vehicle would shy away from 
like a lame puppy).  Being six feet even, myself, I estimated each 
girl to be about five foot ten, and by any facial indication they 
looked like they were my age.  They were smiling at each other and 
were looking intensely into each other's crystal-blue eyes.  Each 
girl had a modified barbell that had what looked like, as near as I 
could count, over fifteen hundred pounds on it, and they were raising 
and lowering them slowly in perfect unison.  They were speaking in 
unison as well.
". . . four hundred and twenty seven, four hundred and twenty eight, 
four hundred and twenty nine . . ."
Their voices were like angel song, regardless of what they were 
saying.  One of the girls started to faintly tremble, but managed to 
get it under control and raise the bar up for 430.  As they continued 
to lift, unaware of my presence, I looked them over in awe.  They 
exchanged looks of competitive defiance as their utterly equaled 
bodies continued on-pace.
They were both wearing grey worn and torn tank tops that looked like 
they were once given to children but now were going to give out at 
any moment.  The printed picture of a husky dog on each tank top was 
deformed from excess stretching.  His ears were warped over the huge 
breasts that stood out from their chests like cannons, with each ear 
bending outwards at the tips, punctuating every groove and feature of 
their prominently extruding nipples.  The husky's face was dented and 
disfigured as it was spread in and out of billowing abdominal muscles 
as though it was smashed all about with an ax.  The wolf-dog's 
formerly menacing glare was wrenched into the faces of two Easter 
bunnies that met with bad highway conditions.
Each tank top was torn under the arms and at the bottom of the low 
neck line.  Their vast lats and colossal tricep and bicep muscles 
stretched the tears under their arms to their maximum, highlighting 
the biggest upper bodies I had ever seen or imagined.  Their hard and 
defined muscles made a fully grown gorilla look like an infant 
monkey, let alone the fact that they put the muscles from the nearby 
posters of so-called "professional male champion bodybuilders" to 
absolute shame.  Those unnatural-looking, steroid-enlarged beef heads 
looked like X-file aliens when compared to the amazons before me.  
The long tears at their necklines gave the consummate view down the 
cleavage of four immense breasts that stiffly held their own shape 
like two pairs of overinflated basketballs hoisted up and away by 
invisible steel jacks. A thin elastic string ran horizontally under 
and through the beautifully widened collar-line of each tank top.  
Peeking out between their breasts were sets of solidly packed 
pectoral muscles that made the profoundly defined spaces between 
their busts start at their collar bone.  Perspiration ran down their 
cleavages which started at two inches deep, and ran to over a foot 
deep.  The sweat on their half-bare chests and arms made their skin 
sparkle like elephantine diamonds.
The tank tops were far too small to cover all of their rippling 
stomachs, framing their deep belly buttons which were set on 
perfectly tanned skin.  Hanging very low on their hips, the girls 
also wore baggy green sweat pants which revealed nothing but 
fantastic size and a pair of thin elastics that clung to the skin at 
the high sides of their waist.  The draw strings were dangling from 
their waists down to their shins, indicating that these were pants 
made with the frighteningly obese exclusively in mind.  I could only 
dream the leg muscles that they were hiding.
I was so hard.
So very hard that it hurt.
Though the girls' faces looked determined but relatively unstrained, 
each pair of bicep muscles looked red-hot with thick vascularity 
running everywhere along the monstrous peaks.  If those arms weren't 
at least a yard around each of their apexes, I was no photographer 
and female-muscle fan.  As I came back to reality, I watched their 
contest come to an amazing end.  I remembered the high-speed camera 
in my hand and brought it up to my face and focused.  One of the 
doubles paused her verbal count and spoke in a gently strained voice.
". . . six hundred seventy-three . . . are you ready to give up 
yet?", asked pigtail?
"Yeah right!  Lets go to seven hundred and then 'go-supergirl'," 
replied ponytail.
"Are you sure?!?  We've never done that past four hundred reps 
before," said pigtail with an intrigued smirk on her face.
"To hell with before," ponytail grinned, "I want my 'go-supergirl' 
now!  And you know how I get if we don't get enough pump!  Remember 
the last time?"
Pigtail laughed at their inside joke.  "I'd have liked to have seen 
the look on the face of whoever it was from the town council that 
finally found that statue!"
"Yeah!" remarked Ponytail.  "It's not everyday you see a public 
eyesore of a three-and-a-half-ton bronze statue depicting a 'town 
founder' and known slave trader go missing, and then mysteriously 
turn up in an abandoned barn attic with its head bent up into its . . 
."
"I remember!  But don't forget, we couldn't have bent that fat bronze 
body in half without each other."
"Someday we'll each be able to do one in each arm, sister!"
"Can't wait.  What are we at now?"
"Nine left."
The two girls counted down to zero and then bent over.  Then they 
quickly stuck the tips of each bar into the hooks of lined-up weights 
on the floor.  I mentally calculated each bar to then weigh around 
three thousand pounds.  Before standing back up, they restored their 
mutual stare.
"Last one to a hundred loses," pronounced ponytail.
". . . And so does the first one to drop a weight or use anything 
less than perfect form", finished pigtail.
Amazingly, they stood back up and began to curl again and again.  
They started to go faster, but not once did the swinging weights 
leave their control.  Faster and faster, their shoulders surged out 
as they kept their elbows from moving back.  Faster and faster, their 
taut biceps bulged out like tidal waves from the end of the world 
until they were doing nearly three reps per second.  Faster and 
faster they pumped until a dull growl began to emanate from their 
smiling lips.  By the last twenty, both girls began to roar like 
terrific lionesses as their arms repeatedly constricted upon 
themselves like exploding and imploding stars.  The last rep was a 
blur.
"Done!" both girls cried out triumphantly.  It took them a second to 
realize that they tied and they exchanged a look of mock resentment 
before going red-faced with laughter.  They gently set the weights 
back down.  Doing a passably recognizable Sean Connery impression, 
ponytail looked at her sister and said, "Hy-landarr, there can BE 
only one," causing them both to fall over in fits of hysterics.  
Lying on their backs, their biceps and tits stuck straight up into 
the air like a mountain range.  Every peak trembled like a 
Californian earthquake.  Slowly, their breathing returned to normal.
"Are we done yet, sis?" asked pigtail.
"I think so.  We did chest and shoulders already, and we did legs 
last night and got them scheduled again for this afternoon.  All 
that's left is cardio.  Do you want the bike or the stair machine 
first?"
I mentally kicked myself and the yearbook index for letting me miss 
the coveted "chest workout".  Roll your eyes if you like because 
there's my ungrateful attitude for you . . . especially after 
witnessing, and shooting, the superhuman display that just took 
place.
"Did you lock the doors?" asked ponytail.
"Yep.  We've got the whole place to ourselves," said pigtail with a 
mischievous smile.
"Good, because I'm getting a little warm."
Without a word, both girls simultaneously reached for the bottoms of 
their tank tops and pulled them up over their heads.  Their massive 
bodies looked unbelievable as they stretched upwards.  Under their 
tank tops, each sister wore a tiny triangle-rio-cup bikini top.  
Pigtail's was white and ponytail's was pink.  Each triangle was no 
more than an inch and a half wide or tall.  The 'cups' hovered over 
their breasts, suspended by erect nipples into sharp, inch-tall 
tents.  Beautiful dark areolas peaked out shamelessly around the tiny 
coverage.  In my soul, I heard a thunderclap when the two vertically 
stretched muscular female forms brought their arms back down, causing 
every inch on their robust physiques to look even thicker.  I felt 
the urge to whip out my blood-engorged dick and stroke myself in 
their honor.
Pigtail was looking at her reflection on the wall with a sullen face.  
Ponytail looked at the two of them over in the mirror and said, 
"except for your long face, you're looking pretty good . . . Really 
good today, April."
Ponytail, April, looked back and smiled.  "Thank you.  You are 
looking incredible yourself.  It's just that it's all for nothing if 
I don't have anyone to appreciate all of my hard work . . . except 
for you, Amy."
My head swam with the knowledge of their names.  I then knew I'd have 
dreams about "April" and "Amy" for the rest of my life.
"I love you sister."
"I love you too."
They leaned forwards and kissed their perfect mouths together, their 
tongues running softly across each others' pearly teeth.  Lingering 
their lips across one another, they jointly ran their fingers toward 
each other's drawstring and pulled their waist bands loose.  Holding 
onto April's waistband, Amy began to lower to her knees, dragging her 
sister's sweats to her ankles.  April's hands caressed the contours 
of Amy's back, shoulders, and head, holding her close.  April was 
wearing what would have been a g-string on an ordinary woman, and 
Amy's tongue and lips teasingly grazed the pink elastic fabric that 
was barely covering her wet pussy.  The subtle stimulation her sister 
gave her was torture to April, who involuntarily closed her eyes, 
partially puckered her lips, clenched her teeth, and faintly hissed 
to herself.  Amy slowly stood, dragging her tongue up her sister's 
torso to her neck and listened to April moan out of want for 
libidinous release.  Then, April repeated her twin's motions so that 
Amy could be carnally punished by the inescapable feeling of her 
sister's breath teasing her skin until Amy's white g-string was also 
completely exposed.  I was exhilarated while I watched as both girls 
had stripped each other of their sweats and that's pretty much when 
my heart stopped.
I have never seen anything alive that one could even dream of 
contrasting against the lower bodies on these girls.  There was 
simply no comparison.  The words I write to you, the reader, could 
never fully explain the legs and asses that I viewed that day.  Each 
quad expanded in every direction like stampeding mustangs being held 
back by a fence of a girl's smooth, young skin.  One thigh on Amy or 
April would easily make one waist on one William Shatner look like a 
bean pole.  Twin asses, divided by flimsy strings of elastic, jutted 
out from the back of their hips like truck tires that bulged 
obscenely each time April took a tiny step, or Amy innocently shifted 
her weight to the opposite foot.  Their calves were certainly diamond 
shaped, but they were nearly as large as their arms, making me feel 
like diamonds were my best friends too.  Each calf looked like it 
could support a body ten times that size, or even a medium-sized 
country, all on its own.  I doubted that there was a hundredth of a 
percentage of fat on all four legs combined.  In fact every channel, 
notch, and flute that ran up and down their legs looked as though it 
were individually carved bottomlessly into stone.  Every simple, 
naive gesture these twins made was amplified a million times by the 
fluctuating magnificent volume of their legs.
I had no choice.  I felt like the only way to start my heart again, 
to save my life, was to take down my pants and quietly masturbate in 
their worship right then and there.  Now if this seems odd to you, 
you should know that I was a virgin at the time.  I'm not now, but 
then I was.  And if you want to hear any more about Amy and April, 
you'll keep your jokes to yourself.
I watched as April mounted the industrial strength exercycle and 
cranked the difficulty nob to full, where most humans couldn't even 
turn the pedals with their hands, en masse.  Amy got on the stair 
climber and turned its resistance up to "full" herself.  With 
pristine, guiltless expressions on their faces, both girls began to 
twist and pulsate to a brisk tempo one could only see.  In a fever, I 
took pictures with my left hand and vigorously "saluted" them with my 
right hand.  I was so euphoric that I didn't even notice when I ran 
out of film.  The girls' sweat was the sweetest scent I had ever 
experienced, and their pheromones began to quickly fill the room.  
Intoxicated with pleasure, my sweaty left hand reached for a wall to 
support my dizzy body, and in so doing dropped the camera.  The whole 
world froze the instant before it hit the ground.
That was the abrupt end of the aforementioned happiest moment of my 
life and the second time that day when my eyes just about bugged out 
of my head.
One thought.
"The most embarrassing thing in the entire world has just happened to 
you and you know full well that you are going to die very soon . . . 
and you are going to die a virgin."
Girls as able and graceful as Amy and April took precisely zero 
seconds to bound across the gym, put on their giant bathrobes, and 
fit their bodies through the locker room door to investigate the 
crash.  Their flawless faces projected a very singular emotion: 
Anger.
And there I was, holding my rapidly softening penis in the only 
comfort it had ever known, my pants around my ankles, my left hand 
pulling a stray towel over my hips, and a camera with a cracked zoom 
lens on the floor.  Now, you may have heard stories about people 
wetting their pants when being caught in the path of a raging bull, 
waiting for impact.  Well, don't believe it, bucko.  I can tell you 
with some certainty that, in similar circumstances at least, each one 
of your bodily processes completely tightens up to the point where 
your entire collection of internal organs feels like a bowl of mixed 
nuts.  Even if these girls weren't homicidal or even violent, it was 
very likely that I was either going to jail, or about to spend the 
rest of my explosively public life wishing I was.  My panicking, 
oxygen-depleted brain flashed through the possibility that these 
girls did indeed have a violent side, and I pictured my remains being 
found in the coop of an abandoned barn after my head had been 
forcefully nestled up to my neck between my arse cheeks.  As I 
suffocated in a liquid film of anxiety that engulfed my head, I hoped 
that the process would entail a relatively quick death.  This is 
where we pretty much started, and I'll never forget what followed.
"How the hell did you get in here, you little bastard?" one asked me.
"Who sent you?  Switzerland?  Canada?" asked the other.
"You had better talk . . . and fast!...Or else one of my arms might 
pop your head off!"
"My legs could cut you in half like tissue paper using no more effort 
than I do to jog, so speak up!"
"You like staring at our freaky muscles, soldierboy?!?"
"Yeah!  Does my big, muscular body make me look deformed military 
property, you small-minded facist?"
My puny, asphyxiated voice had no idea what to say.  I couldn't help 
but think about how big they looked, standing over me.
Noticing where my right hand was, her face went from angry to 
perplexed, and then to surprise.  "He doesn't look like CSIS," said 
April to her sister.
Taking a confused but curious stance, Amy crouched down to my level 
and looked me in the eye.  "What are you doing here?"
I remember thinking, "Don't panic.  You've finally met the most 
beautiful woman in the world and then found out she's twins.  If 
you're smooth, you just might live to see the sunset again."
I remember saying, "D...don't kill me...?  Please!  Don't kill me 
PLEASE."
April got down with Amy, obviously not impressed with my cunning 
small talk.  "Jesus Christ!  Can you kindly tell me what the hell is 
going on here?"
Amy looked surprised at her comment.  "April!  Your language!"
Then, something weird inside me took over.  My left hand reached up 
and smacked April firmly on the cheek, after which I pointed my 
finger in her face and looked at her over the brim of my glasses.  In 
a proudly superior impression of Sean Connery, I quoted Indiana Jones 
and the Last Crusade.
"That'sh for blashfemy . . . . . Hy-landarr."
Then, I looked at the tip of my finger, astonished at the foolishness 
of what I had just done.  For their part, the girls looked just as 
astonished as me, just before they exchanged glances and began to 
crack up.
I guess they realized that I wasn't from what ever the hell they were 
worried about, because in a much more jovial tone, Amy exclaimed, "Oh 
my God!  Are you wacking-off under that towel?"
Unsure as to what tactic to take, I responded, "Honestly?  I was a 
second ago.  Are you two new to the area?"
April squinted curiously, "Uh, yes.  We moved in a week ago while 
everyone was in exams.  Don't change the subject.  How did you get in 
here, and why were you . . . you know . . . masturbating alone in an 
empty smelly locker room.  Honestly."
I took a moment to clear my throat.  Then, I explained who I was and 
what I was doing in the building.  They cautiously told me that this 
was the closest weight room they could use before the rest of their 
furniture and home-exercise stuff was shipped in.  Apparently, the 
school administration had agreed over the phone to rent the weight 
room to them for one Sunday morning, mailed them the outer-door key, 
and the girls assumed that the building was empty.  Then, it was up 
to me to explain why I wasn't wearing pants, and so I figured that if 
I was going to die, I may as well die telling the truth.  I tried 
desperately not to babble nervously.
"Watching you two work out turned me on so much that I couldn't . . 
."
"Watching US?  Why?" Amy asked.
"Uh, blind luck, and because I love muscular women and I can't 
imagine any women in the world as provocative and desirable as you 
two.  I just couldn't let an opportunity like this go by without . . 
. y'know . . . sexually celebrating your, to put it bluntly, 
beautiful, massive, strapping, and womanly physiques," I finished, 
and I felt like an idiot as I heard myself babble like a brook.  I 
didn't know what page of the play-book we were all on, but I never 
would have guessed that it was the one where the two spiritually-
violated goddesses on earth looked like they were going to burst into 
tears of joy.
"Beautiful?"  April's head snapped to attention.  "You think our 
bodies are beautiful?"
Either winning them over or digging myself deeper, I said, "Not to 
put too fine a point on it, but I think you are the most stunning and 
arousing women in the universe and I'll tell the world if you want me 
to."
April and Amy locked eyes, and for a moment it was almost as though 
they were communicating through emotion alone.  With a tilt of their 
enchanting manes of hair, their angelic lips whispered and giggled 
into each other's lovely ears and then turned back to look at me.  
April spoke first
"Its time you knew something about us," she started as they undid 
their bathrobe belts.  "First, we are each nineteen years old."  I 
was in no position to argue, based on the sheer size of the woman 
before me.
Then, Amy spoke as they slid the robes off of their shoulders and 
backs.  "Second, the size, endurance, and flexibility of our muscles 
is 100% all-naturally built from an exercise program started the day 
that we were born."
They opened the fronts of the robes around their chests and played 
with the gigantic, silky smooth bulk of their barely-covered 
mammaries in their hands.
April continued as their arms began to visibly bend and flex under 
the formerly loose robe sleeves.  "Third, we have been chased from 
town to town almost all of our lives.  We have been running from 
different countries' military programs since we were both nine years 
old and were already much stronger than any man could ever aspire to 
be"
The sexy pouting faces that they made were contrasted by the huge 
rolling waves of uncompromising fortified beef underneath their moist 
skin.  The sleeves were nothing compared to their power and the 
sinewy flesh began to immediately tear through both seam and cloth as 
though they were made of water.  The tearing spread all over the once 
slack robes as the girls were liberated by their powerful massive 
muscles.  They were soon stripped down to their tiny bikinis.
"Fourth, after extensive sneakiness, we finally made those 
governments lose interest in us and we decided to settle down here in 
the state where our mother comes from," said Amy as April placed her 
hands behind her head, lifted one leg forward, and crunched and 
grinded her muscle-crammed abs while flexing a double bicep shot.
"Fifthly," continued April, "men are always afraid of us and calling 
us ugly.  Neither of us have ever even been kissed by a boy in all 
the years we were moving around."  Meanwhile, Amy had turned around 
for a rear bicep pose that peaked her mighty muscle like a razor's 
edge.
Amy turned back around.  "In other words," she said, "we've never 
found a man who would have sex with us, and we pledged to each other 
that we wouldn't . . . penetrate each other or ourselves.  We once 
payed a male stripper named 'the massive package' to get naked for 
us, but when we tried to take him, he ran away."  April had giggled 
and thrust her chest out, grabbed a wrist, and did a "most muscular 
pose" that made it look like she had nearly doubled in size.
"Finally," finished April, "We're new in town.  We think you're cute 
and we've never met anyone who we turned on this much.  So we want 
you to be our first, and hopefully only.
I knew it wasn't going to get any better than this.  Wordlessly, I 
took the towel off of my newly re-erected dick.  The cool breeze in 
the locker room felt good against its rigid skin.  Out of modesty, I 
had never shown it to anybody before and I secretly prayed that it 
would be big enough for these two amazons.  The looks on their faces 
told me I was just fine.
"Oh my God!  That puts that little shrink 'massive package' to shame, 
doesn't it, April?"
"Steroid freaks have absolutely nothing on that rocket!  I want that 
inside me so bad, sister," April cried, "and I want it now!"
A hand came up to stop her.  "You'll have to arm wrestle me for first 
thrust," Amy interjected.
They kneeled by the bench I had one leg over, clasped hands and 
started a no-submissions contest that could move mountains.  Big, 
sexy biceps sprouted out at an exponential rate until their breasts 
were actually eclipsed by enlarged arms that couldn't bend anymore.  
After only a half minute, the wooden bench exploded.  Although I was 
knocked up to my feet safely, the girls had a few scrapes.  Noticing 
their hurt faces, I got out the first aid kit.  I carefully put a few 
band-aids across the tiny lacerations on Amy's knee and then kissed 
her whole leg "all better" which made her laugh.  Then I held her 
face and kissed her passionately on her full lips and she started to 
glow.  I saw that April had a good sized splinter in her forearm and 
tears were welling up around the sparkles in her spellbinding eyes 
like a brave child.  I got out a bandage and tweezers, tended to her 
wounds, and then kissed her lips and her tears until she smiled and 
blushed again.  While I was preoccupied, Amy lifted me up, got her 
head under me, and began to caress and suck on my dick while licking 
and nibbling at my sack.  I laid April back and snapped off her 
elastic g-string with my bare hands.  I was surprised to find that 
the teenagers before me, who had the breasts of several women, each 
had shaved their pussy bare.  I felt incredible control as I rubbed 
my face down her deep abs and licked out her moist pussy, making her 
cry out in pleasure.  Loving the feeling of Amy's concentrated mouth 
around my dick, I sucked her sister's clit until she started to buck 
powerfully.  We stayed like that, the three of us tending to each 
other's wounded egos, changing oral positions every once and a while, 
for what felt like hours.  Although we brought each other close, none 
of us had reached orgasm yet.  We held back on purpose so that we 
could make this last as long as possible.  I planned to hold back for 
as long as I possibly could, that day.
Eventually, I stood up and guided them to their feet.  With an 
escorting hand on each rugged, mountainous back, I led them to the 
shower room.  As they entered, I undid the knots of their bikini tops 
behind them which made them giggle and pretend to modestly cross 
their exceptionally muscle-bound arms over their perky tits.  I, 
turned them around and tried with all of my might to budge the walls 
of crossed muscle but I knew I was kidding myself.  Instead, I 
tickled them on the ribs until they relented and allowed me to pluck 
the still-hanging elastic triangles off of their nipples.  I ran my 
hands and face all over their smooth bare boobs and iron abs.  Their 
tits were so firm, they hardly gave more than a quarter inch no 
matter how hard I squeezed.  Even though they were supposed to be the 
most delicate parts of Amy and April's bodies, their nipples were 
stiff like steel spikes in my palms.  I could have easily  hung off 
them, suspending my weight by one dark bullet of ultra-sensitive 
flesh.  Nipples like theirs could cut through brick walls with ease 
so I softly bit down as I sucked them, causing an electrified 
reaction in the girls.  To show their appreciation, they put me in a 
two-sided bearhug that squished my head between four big firm globes 
of hot flesh perched on jagged canyon-sides of rigid might, four 
crushing pythons of unadulterated female power, four uncontrollably 
titanic thighs, and a million ample bulges of hot lead as I tried in 
vain to breathe without permission.
They couldn't keep their hands off my dick as they played with it, 
making their substantial forearm muscles bulge overwhelmingly in all 
directions as they explored in gestures across my throbbing shaft.  I 
laid on the tiles and watched the shower water run in and out of the 
excessive crevices in their rippling skin while they erotically 
kissed and touched each other for my viewing enjoyment.  A single 
drop of water could take years, navigating down all of the 
intractable veins, the deep and obsessive channels, and the 
uncontrollably churning muscle mass of the bodies that lustfully 
melded and disengaged from each other in front of me.  They took out 
each other's hair twists and got very wet, both by shower water and 
each other's arrestingly indecent kisses which traveled up and down 
each other's nude muscular physiques.  Instinctively, I realized that 
I didn't need to look at bandages to know which twin I was looking 
at.  I was never unsure who was who as they gyrated their amazingly 
flexible naked bodies in front of me.  Their muscles tensed and 
pulsated in unison to a soundless beat which they posed and danced 
to, swaying their hips and tits mere inches from my grasp.  Any 
impulse to stand and take was quelled by one look at the blinding 
radiance of muscular power that these girls emanated.  The dance 
became more vigorous as they started to move faster, the powerful 
carnal beat making them flex suggestively like out of erotic desire.  
They used their brawn and their beauty to immodestly compete for my 
attentions.  In the end, I could have never chosen one sister over 
the other, and that was how the three of us wanted it.  After they 
were sure that I was as hard and big as they wanted me, they 
descended on my horny, helpless body.
Personally, the most amazing sight I can imagine is when two pairs of 
silky-smooth, immensely muscle-bloated legs, like the ones attached 
to these girls bend down and spread around me.  I watched eagerly as 
April guided her satiny tight pussy down my dick and begin to rise 
and fall on top of me.  At the same time, I sat Amy on my face where 
she and her sister could watch each other cum for the first time.  I 
began to eat out Amy's soft pussy between her panoramically concrete 
leg muscles, not licking gently like before, but devouring.  We were 
performing a combination of "making love" and "hard-core fucking".  
Being so excited, both girls started to orgasm after only a few 
minutes.  I had them change places and I continued thrusting into Amy 
while I ate out April.  The girls kissed and fondled each other's 
arms and breasts as they climaxed again.  Abs and backs would spasm 
over and over, and the girls would continue to switch places each 
time they both came, and we would continue pounding at each other.  
Eventually, it became a contest as all three of us wanted to know 
which sister I would explode inside.  Personally, I felt and smelt 
sweet sweat and girljuice pour all over me and I didn't want to stop 
just yet.  After eight orgasms each, the twins  euphorically begged 
me between thrusts to finish because the carnal pounding growing 
inside of them was too much.  I told them that I would consider it 
after they hit ten.
"What?  And have all the fun?" Amy said as they both started to stand 
up.
"You think we can't make you cum?" April finished?
The twin amazons then proceeded to overpower me and manhandle my body 
until I had fucked every deep muscular crease on their bodies.  They 
squeezed my penis in their big biceps, and pumped my dick up between 
their monsterous glutes.  Still, I was determined to make these 
muscle women shatter on the inside from the pleasure I dealt them.  I 
coaxed Amy to lie flat back on the bench press rack and asked April 
to hold her legs back up by her head.  I got down on my knees and 
entered her, grinding the head of my cock against the top of her 
pussy.  With her legs back, I could penetrate her as deeply as the 
whole length of my dick.  When I found her g-spot, I pounded against 
it for half an hour until sparks almost came out of her ears.  After 
letting her rest, she helped me do the same thing to April.  It felt 
so good that both girls saw lights and cried out of pleasure.
Finally, Amy held me up while April fucked my dick with her tits.  
Seeing that I was unable to hold back for very much longer, Amy said 
something that kissed every mental semblance of control goodbye for 
the day.
"You like how big we are?  Well guess what.  We're actually sixteen 
years old, not nineteen, and we have no intention of staying this 
size.  In four years when we are fully grown, we will be a foot 
taller and twice as muscular as we are now . . . and if you can 
handle that, than you can have us all to yourself."  Hearing all 
that, I felt a force yank my insides down, and I began to shoot my 
seed like a shotgun all over April's smiling face and muscular tits.  
Seeing that I wasn't stopping, Amy turned me around so I could cum 
the last of my long orgasm on her tits and abs too.  I was set down 
to watch as my pair of giant soul-mates rubbed my cum into their tits 
and played with each other's nipples before licking all of the hot 
juices off our bodies.
As time went on, I would move in with two extremely blessed and 
hardworking twin girls to their condo which was just down the hall 
from their mother's suite, giving us privacy for training, studying, 
and sex.  (Incidentally, I was lucky to find that the daughters 
didn't mind sharing me with their ageless single mother . . . but 
that is another story.)  We would wind up living very comfortably off 
of government money from five different countries (provided I didn't 
ask questions)  while I pursued my ordinarily financially unstable 
dream of being a freelance reporter.
But back in the shower room, as I watched my new girlfriends run 
their tongues along each other's rocky creases, gratefully cleaning 
every drop of my cum, I had to ask one thing.
"You know I just realized that I don't even know your last name or 
where you live.  Where did you come from?  Originally, I mean.  
Didn't you say your mom lived around here?"
"Our names are Amy and April Myers.  Our mom, Karen, gave birth to us 
at Saint Anne's Hospital in Wrystany."
It goes to show you indeed.  Maybe the paper can live without me.  
I've got a determined life to lead.