Trouble at the Big Arm Gym By The Gov To the author of all those stories about the Big Arm Gym: I really like your stories and I truly envy your ability to attract and romance a veritable bevy of incredibly muscular women like none I've ever seen. But take heed! This, my friend, could happen to YOU! Trouble at the Big Arm Gym I'm hardly a body builder. Until three weeks ago, I'd never set foot inside a gym, and the only thing I'd ever pumped was gas into my '93 Volvo. But I just couldn't resist that pick-up game of softball at our annual company picnic, and came away with a torn rotator cuff. After the surgery, I was put on a fairly rigorous schedule of physical therapy that involved light lifting at a local gym. Unfortunately, my job requires some overnight travel, and tonight was one of those nights. Fortunately, many gyms allow visitors to pay a one-time fee for the use of their facilities, so my rehab would continue unabated. Or so I thought. "Hello" I said to the receptionist, a perky young lady I guessed to be a high school cheerleader. "My name is Mark Winslow. I called earlier." "Oh, hi Mr. Winslow" she cut in with a tone of voice that told me something was definitely wrong. "I wish I'd had your number at your hotel. You see, I'm really new here, and, well, I um. well you see, Thursday nights are. I mean." "She means that we're very sorry, but we can't honor your reservation." The woman who had so mercifully finished the receptionist's sentence was a slight, elderly Asian woman who turned out to be the owner of the establishment, the Big Arm Gym. "We've managed to attract a very select group of women who train here at specific times. Tanya here mistakenly booked you at such a time. Part of the arrangement with our women is that no men are allowed in during the workouts. The only exception is a photographer I keep on retainer who they all seem to like. "It was my mistake" she continued, "Let me offer you a free two- week pass for the inconvenience." She was clearly in a bind and was trying to do the right thing, but so was I. "Look, I'm from out of town and I'm going through rehab. I really need this workout if my arm is going to heal properly. The doctor was real insistent about it. Heck, I'll wear a blindfold if it will help." The old woman broke into a warm smile. "I guess under the circumstances we can take you in. My name's Amanda. Will you need any special equipment?" "No, just point me to the lightest set of dumbbells you have. And I really appreciate this. I promise to keep my eyes on my business. Unless you want to take me up on the blindfold idea!" "That won't be necessary, but I must prepare you. These are women like you've never seen." Amanda's eyes suddenly glanced to the side. "Oh, hi Charlene, Trudy! I hope you don't mind, but we've got company tonight!" I turned to see two large women. Two very large women. Each was dressed in bulky sweats, looked to be a bit over six feet tall, and appeared to be nearly as wide! Charlene, a blond, smiled at me and gave me a wink. Despite her obvious weight, she had a dazzling smile and was quite beautiful indeed. Trudy, a brunette, was a bit taller and kept her mouth closed in her smile, but it was accentuated with a quick raising of her right eyebrow. She too was quite attractive. They turned and walked into the locker room, with a confident gait that belied any weight problem. Amanda gave me a towel and a locker key and pointed me to the men's locker room. "If you need anything, just ask one of the women. Like I say, they're a very special group, but don't be intimidated. They're really all quite nice. It will probably be pretty crowded. Our photographer is going to be in for our first group shoot! Oh, hi Suzanne!" The last comment was directed to a tall redhead, again in bulky sweats, again of abnormal size and beauty. Suzanne gave Amanda a funny "what's he doing here" kind of look. Amanda just smiled. "This is Mark Winslow, a special guest of mine." At that, Suzanne smiled at me and welcomed me to the Big Arm Gym. I was already changed and ready for my workout. The specific exercises weren't really designed to work up a sweat, so I had no real need for a towel, a locker, or anything but the light weight set. I went straight into the workout room. For the moment I was the only one in there. After a couple of minutes of stretching, I was joined by Charlene and Trudy still in their sweats. They started stretching showing a flexibility reserved for competitive gymnasts, hardly what I expected from a pair of behemoths. I continued until a couple of minutes later, Charlene's sweats came off. Amanda's preparation was inadequate to say the least. Like I say, I'm a "newbie" when it comes to gyms, but in my short experience I've come to know what a world-class physique is. Tom Fenler at my local gym is such a competitor, and he's most proud of his 22 inch "guns" as he calls them. Fully flexed, they were about as big as Charlene's forearm! Charlene would utterly dwarf any body-builder in any men's heavyweight division. She turned to face me and went into a double biceps pose that left me breathless. Her body seemed to swell and solidify into a rock-hard mass and veins popped out everywhere. Her spandex bra was put to the test as her pecs pushed her more-than-ample breasts up and forward creating cleavage that left no doubt that despite her size, Charlene was all woman. Her abs rendered the term "six-pack" an understatement. As she bent her arms to the 90 degree angle, two mountains erupted that made Fenler's look like cooked spaghetti. They had to be well over thirty inches each! At my local gym, there are some women who lift weights but fall more into the fitness model category. While they are quite attractive, Charlene was something else altogether. I was aroused, to say the least. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash and scattered laughter. As my eyes began to recover, I realized the point of Charlene's exhibition was to have the newly arrived photographer take a quick photo of me reacting to my first sight of a Big Arm Gym woman. Amanda, trying to recover from hysterical laughter, put her hand on my good shoulder. "That should make some souvenir. I TOLD you I had a special clientele coming tonight! For some reason, this gym attracts the biggest, strongest, most incredibly muscular women in the world. They don't compete publicly but any of them would blow away the competition anywhere they went." I glanced around the room to see that there were now several women, each with muscles that defied description. If I'd felt that muscularity was the province of men, that notion was now utterly destroyed. And if I'd had any idea that a muscular woman was unattractive, well, that was by now a thing of the past also. But a promise is a promise, and I really did have a workout to do. It was hard to concentrate, though, with every new woman entering the gym, a new standard of muscularity seemed to be achieved. Every exercise, every movement, every minor twitch from every body in the gym (except mine, of course!) resulted in a sudden eruption of muscle that dwarfed that of any I'd ever seen or imagined. Somehow, I pressed on. About 15 minutes into my workout, the photographer (I never did get his name) came to my area to take some light readings. He apologized for what he called the "jaw- drop shot" but we both agreed it was a great idea under the circumstances. Before the conversation could continue, however, one of the women in a quiet voice leaned over to him and said, "Will I see you after the shoot?" The photographer's eyes widened as a look of panic came across his face. Under his breath, he started "I told you never to." but was cut off by another mountain-muscled Amazon who quietly but sternly informed the first, "I don't think you're seeing ANYONE tonight! Certainly not MY man!" In a voice so low I think only I heard him, the photographer said, "Oh, SHIT! I knew this group shoot was a bad idea!" Voices began to rise and others joined in. "He's MINE!!" "NO, HE'S MINE!!!" These seemingly sweet ladies were suddenly turning incredibly sour! With the speed of a Roger Clemens fastball, a large medicine ball narrowly missed my head and crashed through the far wall. What kind of power would it take to do that? I suspect the same as it would take to swing a barbell laden with over a thousand pounds like a baseball bat. The woman performing this feat missed her target (the Amazon who had just thrown the medicine ball at her) by just a few inches and the weight ripped through a support pillar like a karate master would chop through a single pine board! Her intended victim responded by picking up an entire weight machine and throwing it her assailant who deflected it into a bank of lockers, which crumpled like tinfoil. While the sight of the 25 or so muscular beauties going at it was erotic beyond belief, the photographer ran by and said "We'd better get out of here. NOW!" There was good sense in that. I had most of my belongings with me, but he left all his equipment behind. We ran out the front door just as a loud crash signaled the beginning of the collapse of the gym's roof. As we saw the walls begin to cave in, I asked my fellow escapee, "so you were dating some of the women in there?" "Well, all of them actually. I learned long ago that most men are more than a little intimidated by a thirty-plus inch arm, so these women seemed to be quite willing to return my affections. You simply have no idea how great sex with these she-hulks can be. They all promised not to mention anything, but I should have known that one would eventually talk. I guess I just got carried away. And before I get carried away in a body bag, I'd best run like hell and never return! Like they say, 'hell hath no fury like a muscle-babe spurned'! Nice meeting you, Mark!" With that, the photographer for the Big Arm Gym was gone, and was within seconds being pursued by the mob of very angry muscle-bound women emerging from the now demolished gym. One stopped when she got to me. "You were the other guy at the gym?" She was about six foot five and was seemingly the most muscular of the bunch. Muscle after muscle after glorious muscle bulged out of her ever-so-tight workout suit. I was awestruck. "Uh. um. yeah.I guess so." I so wanted to impress her, but my God, she was enormous. "Don't be nervous! I won't bite!" she laughed. Then with a wink she added, "Unless you want me to! You act like you've never seen a girl with a 45 inch biceps before!" With that, she flexed her arm and slabs of striated muscles seemed to leap forth from her upper arm. She kept repeating the flexing movement, each time sending the peaking mass to greater heights than before. Striation after striation, vein after vein, the definition and bulk kept taking on greater proportion. "WOW!" I finally blurted out, simply unable to contain myself. She took my hand and placed it on top of the unearthly mass. It was like iron and jumped up and down as she began to flex and relax in rapid succession. She then took me in her massive arms and stuck her tongue down my throat in a kiss that made me feel like I'd never been kissed before. It was an experience like no other. "My name is Yvonne. It looks like as soon as the gym is rebuilt, we'll need a new photographer. Do you take pictures?" "I could learn." I replied.