Muscling in on my life
By woodsy
Dreamgirls can be (self)made as well as born

I never knew Rachel would become so important part of my life, but fate 
is funny sometimes.  It all started when I met her in an airport one 
morning.  I was coming off of a busted engagement which lasted over a 
year, only to blow up in my face.  She looked so shy and na‹ve sitting 
there, a girl from Alabama who had never been anywhere before, and now 
she was about to fly to Europe on the same flight as I was, off to 
discover strange new cities.  She was a rather large girl, tall and 
weighing about 300lbs.  If she weren't so heavy, you might have noticed 
her full, sensual lips and her thick curly hair, bright as a bonfire. 

Since I did not know anyone on this flight, I made conversation any way 
and with anyone I could.  I guess I saw Rachel as a lost soul who could 
use a compliment, and would welcome any flirtations.  For some reason I 
took an instant liking to her and she to me.  During the long wait for 
the flight and then on the 8-hour flight itself we talked about our 
pasts and about what we would do in Germany once we got there.  Neither 
of us had been there before, but I had at least studied the language for 
a long time, so she decided she might want to stay close to me while 
we're there.  It turned out that we were both on our ways to the same 
study program.  She seemed to like me quite a bit and seemed gleeful 
that we would be able to see each other whenever we wanted.  I was glad 
to know I had a friend in a strange place, but kept asking myself 
questions.  Will she slow me down or cramp my style once we get there?  
If other cute Fr„uleins see us together, won't Rachel scare them away?  
Am I going to be stuck with her in the end?  She was sweet, but she was 
so heavy that I didn't really want her as a girlfriend.  It's not so 
much that I'm superficial, but a girl who lets herself get that big 
might have some self-esteem issues.  

These concerns subsided over time.  It turned out that Rachel may not 
have traveled much, but she studied art history and guided me through 
the many art museums and galleries throughout Europe in the coming 
weeks.  I helped her out by teaching her some German, French and Spanish 
as we traveled.  I even tried to impress her by ordering food in the 
waiter's native tongue every time we entered a new country.  Sure I only 
spoke a few phrases of Czech, Hungary and Italian, but I kept her 
guessing and made her think I was more worldly than I was.  I admitted 
it coyly, but she thought I was just being modest.  Although I didn't 
find her physically attractive, we had a wonderful platonic relationship 
for our first month together.  That started to change after a trip to 
Berlin.  

Several of us students took a trip together to Berlin where I expected 
to find some strange and exotic things to do and found them.  We missed 
the love parade by 2 weeks, but we did get a chance to take in the 
nightlife.  Most of the students were content to swill beer at the pubs, 
but I wanted to up the ante, so I suggested the Erotic Museum as 
basically a dare.  I threatened to go by myself when Rachel stunned me 
and offered to come with me.  I hoped a big group would go just for 
laughs, but I was glad not to go alone, since I'd have felt like a 
pervert.  The museum actually took a solemn approach to the history of 
erotica around the world, so the whole experience didn't feel so dirty.  
Rachel took me aback when we looked at some bondage equipment, though. 

"You see that rack there?  That's where the victim sprawls out and takes 
a flogging.  The person who likes getting whipped or beaten is what we 
call a pain slut," she explained.  "You see, the person lays out like 
that, it looks like they're getting dominated, but actually the person 
getting beaten is in control."  `We'? I thought to myself.  What did she 
mean by that? 

I tried to keep cool as best I could.  "You know what I've wondered, 
though, is that people who like to go to dominatrixes aren't really 
freaks necessarily.  I think it's just that they gradually need more and 
more stimulation to get excited, until eventually they need something 
really extreme, like to get dominated and wear elaborate costumes."  I 
offered that as my best food for thought and she seemed to agree. 

"You're mostly right.  You don't want to beat somebody out of the blue 
because you'll hurt them.  You have to work them up slowly.   I didn't 
know how to tell you this before because I didn't think you'd 
understand, but I am a dominatrix in training.  Now that you've come to 
a museum like this and could look at everything maturely, I think I can 
tell you.  I work at a dungeon in Tennessee where they indulge all sorts 
of fantasies.  I think you'd like it," she smiled.  I couldn't believe 
she said that.  Here this girl I thought was so shy and innocent was.a 
dominatrix?  No, it can't be.  But maybe it is.  As we left that museum 
and for the next few days, she explained to me how she trains new men.  
All I could do was listen. 

For the next week as we traveled through Germany I must have let down my 
guard.  I had always harbored a secret fantasy about strong, muscular 
women who are bigger and stronger than me.  I thought I hid this fantasy 
pretty well all my life and on this trip, but every time we passed by a 
billboard for West cigarettes, which featured a massive female 
bodybuilder, I couldn't help but look.  Rachel must have noticed this at 
least once and she corned me.  "All right, this may sound weird, but do 
guys find that attractive?" she asked, pointing to the bodybuilder.  All 
I could answer, sheepishly, was "Well, sssssome guys get really turned 
on by that kind of thing." 

"Interesting." 

"What do you mean?" I asked 

"So what is it that turns guys on?" 

"Oh, well I wouldn't know, but I guess it's the hard, shiny, curvaceous 
shape of big muscles, or the feel of a tight firm body that some men 
like." 

"Some men like, say, you?"  She was onto me.  I was busted. 

"Wellllllll, maybe a little..." She glared at me as if she didn't think 
I was telling the whole truth.  "or maybe a lot." 

"Hmmmm.  I'll have to remember that." 

The next weekend was much like a storybook romantic episode.  We took a 
long train trip to Italy and as we fell asleep, she playfully kissed my 
ears as I nudged and tickled her.  She then sucked on my fingers and 
nibbled at my ear.  I gradually got the idea that she wanted to be more 
than just playful.  When we arrived in Florence we found a room and 
settled in.  Before I could suggest what to do next, Rachel tugged me 
toward the bed where she had already started to undress.  She proceeded 
to kiss every part of my body.  As much as I tried to fight it, I let 
her.  The fact that I had not had sex in over 2 months by that point 
combined with her eagerness made me give in.  The next thing I knew I 
leaned into her and stroked her clitoris and kissed her everywhere from 
her face to her navel.  I pinned down her hands to lick her, but before 
I could start, she moaned and closed her eyes as if she were coming.  I 
didn't know what was happening, but since it made her feel so good I 
continued.  She had more orgasms than I'd ever imagined a woman can 
have, and I still hadn't even penetrated her! 

I then lay on my back and she went down on me to suck.  Damn if she 
didn't know how to do everything right.  Before I came she asked if she 
could feel me inside her.  Before I could think I answered yes.  She 
rubbed up and down on me with perfect force and I pulled myself out 
before I shot enough to make her choke.  I was exhausted, but still had 
some questions that I could now think clearly enough to ask. 

"So," I said between breaths, "does this mean we're.an item now or 
something?" 

"Not exactly.  I am still living with my boyfriend back home and I don't 
plan to leave him yet, but we can still have fun together in the 
meantime."  I was relieved that we hadn't just consummated a bigger 
commitment but confused.  I also wanted to ask her about what had just 
happened. 

"When you were moaning before like that, were you actually having 
orgasms?  Were you just faking for me?" 

"No," she panted.  "I get off whenever somebody pins me down helpless.  
When you hold my hands and arms down where I can't move them it just 
drives me so crazy I get an orgasm." 

"Is this part of your bondage fetish or something?" 

"Yes.  I love being wrapped tightly or bound.  I like having tight 
things on me, like high heels and corsets.  In fact I'd wear heels more 
often except my boyfriend doesn't like it.  Since I'm 6 feet barefoot, I 
stand 6'4" in heels, so I tower over him.  There are also some zones on 
my body that are really sensitive, so if you suck or bite them it gets 
me off." 

"Really, like where?" 

"Like if you bite the back of my head, or suck on my breasts, I lose 
control."  The breast thing wasn't surprising, since I had known other 
women who like that too, but the biting was new to me. 

Later that night she came to my bed and we made love all over again.  
This time I stroked her and licked her down below as I usually do during 
foreplay, but I hit every other region she told me about too, just to 
see how many orgasms she could have before she got sore or tired, but 
she showed me she was full of all sorts of surprises.  She either never 
got tired, she was faking, or she was just insatiable.  On the train 
trip back to Germany she said she was not tired because she had so much 
pent up sexual energy.  Although she was living with a man, she said he 
did not find her attractive anymore because of the weight she had put on 
in the last 2 years.  She had always been chubby, but had gotten as fat 
as she was recently after a bout with depression.  I couldn't help but 
feel sorry for her as she told me her story through tears.  She started 
feeling better as I grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back 
with one hand.  She smiled and said through her clenched teeth, "You 
like to torture me, don't you?"  I smirked and nodded.  "Oh, I would 
just love to dominate you sometime."  That thought excited me a little 
bit. 


2 months later we were both back in the states, when I my phone rang.  
Rachel's name came up on the caller Id and I picked it up, surprised to 
hear from her.  She was sobbing and hyperventilating so much that I 
could hardly understand her.  I finally calmed her down enough for her 
to tell me what was wrong. 

"It's Bill," she said between sobs.  She and her boyfriend must have had 
some kind of fight.  "He said he doesn't want to live with me anymore 
and he's throwing me out of the house."  

"Well, do you have a place to live?" 

"Yes, but you just don't understand.  He said he never really loved me 
and now he wants me out of his life."  After an hour on the phone she 
calmed down to where the shock wore off and her mood changed to anger 
toward Bill.  "But I'm gonna move on.  I'm not letting him get me down, 
because that's just what he wants." 

"That's the spirit," I said.  "So are you going to be okay for the 
night?" 

"Yes, I think so.  It was great to hear your voice again, though.  Thank 
you for listening to me.  You're a great friend."  I hung up right after 
that.  It turned out that my assessment about her having possible self-
esteem issues were dismissive but true.  

Even though I didn't really want to be more than her friend anymore, I 
wanted to make sure she would be okay.  I agreed to help her move into 
her new apartment.  I noticed that had some dumbbells in one of the 
boxes that I carried.  They were only small 5lb weights that you usually 
see on sale at K-mart but I was still surprised to see Rachel having 
anything to do with exercise.  I teased, "Got a killer workout tonight?"  
She didn't think it was so funny, though. 

"Those were Bill's, but I'm taking them with me.  He hasn't used them in 
years and I have plans."  I finished helping her move and went home.  
Months went by and I e-mailed her every once in a while if I found 
something funny, but other than that I didn't think much about her.  

One day I happened to see her in town while I was out for a jog.  Since 
I hadn't seen her in a while I stopped to talk to her.  She gave me a 
hug.  "Since when do you run?" 

"For about 5 years I guess I've been running 3 or 4 miles a day, but I 
miss a day sometimes." 

"Do you run marathons or anything?" 

"No, I just like the feeling I get after a workout.  I love being 
physically exhausted." 

"You know, I think you'd like that dungeon in Tennessee where I work.  
We have some clients who like to be exhausted."  That felt almost weird 
when she said it.  I politely declined, but I did take her up on her 
offer to give me a ride home after we talked for a while.  It was almost 
time for me to go to work and I didn't think I could run home in time to 
shower and drive in.  On the way to my house I noticed she had some more 
weights in her back seat.  This time it was a pair of 35lb dumbbells and 
a biceps curl bar with no weights on it.  I got a little bit excited at 
the thought that Rachel might be working out, but I couldn't see any 
change in her.  It was early winter and she had a long coat on.  

She walked me to my door and I briefly invited her in.  I noticed I left 
one of my female bodybuilding magazines on the floor in plain view, so 
as quickly and nonchalantly as I could I kicked it under the couch 
before Rachel could see it.  I saw her eyes move in my direction, so I 
think she saw what I did and what I kicked out of the way.  She didn't 
say anything, but I felt sheepish and changed the subject before she 
could ask me any embarrassing questions.  She left with a mysterious 
grin on her face, which I didn't like, but I let it go.  After all, if 
she is a dominatrix in training, surely she's heard of stranger fetishes 
than muscular women.  

A year later my phone rang at work and a woman was on the other end.  I 
could not recognize it right away, but after she offered some hints, I 
realized it was Rachel.  We talked for almost an hour and caught up on 
what was new in each of our lives.  I had been dating in the last year, 
but wasn't in the middle of any relationship at this time.  She just 
ended another relationship with a younger man she had been living with 
for the last year or so. 

"So, are you still going to your dungeon anymore?" I joked to make some 
conversation. 

"No, not really.  I haven't gone there lately.  I used to go there all 
the time mostly to get my fix while I was living with Bill.  He was 
rarely interested in sex, so I needed to get some action other ways." 

"Speaking of Bill, what ever happened to him?"  I asked. 

"Oh, not much.  I paid him a visit just last month to tell him a few 
things I always wanted to say.  I showed up wearing 5-inch heels just to 
piss him off and a new dress.  Let's just say I finally got my revenge 
on him for the lousy way he treated me." 

"Whaddaya mean?" 

"Well, it's a long story.  I've changed a lot since you last saw me, and 
it sure surprised him."  What did she mean? 

"What, did you shave your head and pierce everything on your face or 
something?"  I couldn't imagine what was so different that he'd be so 
surprised. 

"Not exactly, but it's almost that extreme."  If she hadn't been to her 
dungeon in a while, maybe she meant she's settled down and gone dead 
straight.  That would be pretty surprising.  "Say, if you're not doing 
anything this weekend, do you want to go out and get a drink or go 
dancing?" she asked.  

"Okay, why not." 

"Great, come over to my place around nine on Saturday."  That was pretty 
forward, I thought, but I had nothing better to do, so what the hell. 

That Saturday, I showed up at her apartment right on time, so as not to 
keep a woman waiting.  I brought a bottle of her favorite ros‚ wine and 
knocked on her door.  There was no answer after a minute and noise  
coming from the other side of the door.  Maybe I had the wrong 
apartment.  After all, it had been over a year since I'd been to her 
place.  I looked around for any touches that were distinctly hers.  I 
didn't find anything incriminating, but I did find a note down at my 
feet.  I opened it up and read it. 

Dear Alan, The door is unlocked.  Come on in.  I am in the room in the 
back and to your right.  Love, Rachel 

At first I thought this is some kind of game, but then I thought maybe 
she couldn't hear me knock from that far back, so I opened the door and 
walked in.  As I walked through the foyer I noticed a room to my right.  
It was a home gym with a full rack of free weights, an olympic bench 
with a bar loaded to over 300lbs, a chinup bar, and a treadmill.  Surely 
they couldn't be Rachel's.  They must belong to her ex who just moved 
out.  "I'm in here, Alan," I heard her call.  Strangely her lights were 
out in the room she was calling from.  I hesitated as I walked through.  

"Hello?" I called. 

"Don't turn on the light.  Just come in, take off your coat and shoes 
and sit down on the bed."  I could now hear that she was in the bathroom 
off of this room.  She must not be ready and doesn't want me to see her 
until she is, I thought. 

"That's a nice gym in the front room," I said.  "You'll have to let me 
use it sometime."  

"Oh, don't worry honey.  Pretty soon you'll get to do all kinds of 
things over here when you want to." 

"Well thank you in advance I guess."  

"No, thank YOU," she responded. 

"You're welcome, but I don't know for what." 

"Because, you've opened up a whole new world of pleasure for me.  
Remember how you told me that `some' find muscles sexy?  Well, you were 
right.  When I saw you running I decided to try exercise and found that 
I liked it.  I started walking for an hour everyday on the treadmill and 
liked it so much that I ran for an hour.  And I started lifting weights.  
My last boyfriend showed me how to lift and train." 

"You mean, those weights are all yours?"  

"Every one of `em.  I don't usually bench the 320 that you saw on the 
bar, though.  I warm up with that, but then I add on another 30lbs for 
the real workout.  Then I do 50 pull ups on the bar.  It takes me about 
3 hours a day to work out as much as I want, and those supplements 
aren't cheap, but it's all worth it." 

"Supplements?" 

"Yes, dear.  And tonight you're going to tell me if you think it's all 
worth it."  She turned on the track lights in the room and walked out of 
the bathroom.  I could only see her silhouette, but she did look 
different.  

"Have you lost weight?" was all I could come up with.  

She laughed, "No silly.  Actually I weigh the same as I did when you 
first met me.  I still weigh 295, but as you know, muscle is heavier 
than fat, so it all looks tighter.  But tell me if it feels tighter 
too."  I was speechless.  As she walked into the light, I saw that she 
was wearing a skin-tight black leather costume with metal studs 
accentuating the contours of her new muscles.  She must have been 
wearing 6 inch stiletto heels, which more than made her point.  Her 
midriff was bare to reveal grooves in her abdomen.  Her arms were bare 
and must have measured 26 inches.  Her thighs, already big and strong, 
shed away the layer of fat that had previously covered them, now 
revealing deep striations in the quadriceps.   Her shoulders seemed to 
spread 4 feet wide, and her lats tapered down to a narrow waist, then to 
round, wide hips.  Her hard, muscular neck looked majestic with her long 
red hair falling onto it.  The leather cups on the bustier framed her 
firm, muscular pectorals, with a thin layer of soft breast tissue over 
them. 

I timidly approached her.  "Can I touch you?" 

"You'd better, or I'll have to make you."  I only got more excited.  I 
knew it would be useless to try to hold both of her wrists in one hand 
now, so I caressed her biceps, then her back muscles in my hands as I 
kissed and licked every surface of her bare skin.  I even bit the back 
of her head as I remembered she liked the first time.  She came to her 
first orgasm as we fell onto the bed.  "My turn now," she said.  This 
time, she pinned my arms down and I was helpless to move, so I just let 
her take over.  She licked me up and down and finally sucked me off.  
Before I could burst, she squeezed my member tightly and said, "Oh no 
you don't, not yet."  She let me squirt, then slid her vagina onto me 
like a sheath onto a knife.  Just when I thought I blew everything I 
had, I burst again.  I was sore but in heaven. 

She stood up and walked to my side of the bed.  She lifted me up into 
her arms as if I were a teddy bear.  "Do you like me like this?" 

"Rachel, I liked you even before." I answered. 

"I know you did, sweetie.  That's what makes you so special.  There are 
probably a lot of guys who would want me if they saw what I looked like 
now, but you wanted me even when I looked my worst.  I want you to be 
with me for as long as I say.  You know I need to be pleasured several 
times a day, so don't make me break out the whip." 

"Anything you say, babe."  

There are worse fates than becoming your dreamgirl's boy toy. 

THE END