The Farm Girl
by Alpesco
I start working for Rebecca 


Tall, slim and rawboned in her jeans and sleeveless shirt, Becca was two
inches taller than me at six feet. She was blonde, with mid-length hair, a
narrow waist and wide shoulders. but where I weighed a solid 200 pounds, she
was a good deal slimmer. I guessed she was a rangy 150 to 170 pounds of bone
and lean, hard muscle. Her face was good looking, and topped with tousled
blonde hair.

"Time to get the feed in store, Josh," she said.

I nodded. "Yes, Miss Rebecca." This was going to be my first task. The 25
year-old Rebecca ran this big farm virtually alone since she inherited it six
years ago from her Uncle. I had just started work as part-time hand. Me and my
grandfather were staying in a cabin two miles away that belonged to the farm,
and I was to come in two or three days a week to help out. At busy times
Rebecca hired a few migrant workers, but that was it. We were starting with a
tough job, moving sixty, one hundred pound sacks of animal feed up to their
storage platform in the barn.

I bent to pick up a bag of feed. It felt astonishingly heavy it was. The
hundred pounds was bulky dead weight, and hard to hold. I was already sweating
as I carried it up to the empty area on the raised platform and dumped it in
position. Becca however was already ahead of me. Her rangy arms burrowed under
the big sack, then lifted it like it was a pillow, raising it smoothly up to
shoulder height. I noticed the solid biceps swelling as they took the weight.
She swung it round onto one shoulder, and then strode past me into the barn,
up the ten steps to the platform and slammed the sack into place.

Rebecca almost seemed to enjoy the work. I was startled by how strong this
tall young woman was to tote such a heavy weight so easily. As she turned to
face me, she stretched her arms upward, then spread them out wide. She had
enormous reach. Her arms seemed long even for her six foot body, and it seemed
that they were powerful too.

Apart from her much younger brother and sister, she was alone on this farm. So
she obviously had to do a lot of heavy work, moving equipment, manhandling
livestock, and throwing around sacks like these. As I turned to follow her,
she was already out in the yard swinging another of those heavy sacks up into
her arms.

I hurried to try to keep pace with her, but I hated this. Left to myself I'd
have taken all morning to move the sacks, but I had to try to work at
Rebecca's pace, and she didn't seem to tire. The sacks seemed to get heavier
and heavier as we went on. Soon Becca was on her 15th sack, and I was only
carrying my 9th. I was sweating in the dusty heat, my shirt wringing wet as
Becca strode briskly past me. I couldn't see a sign of sweat on her yet,
though her shirt had come loose enough for me to glimpse a defined gridiron of
abdominal muscles as they emerged from the waistline of her jeans.

How did this girl carry these weights so easily? She was no more than 170
pounds, and I was 200, but I found it a real struggle to keep up with her.

'You're falling behind, Josh," she said, taking another sack into her long,
muscular arms.

"I'm sorry," I gasped. "I'm not used to this, and you're ten years younger
than me."

As I carried my 16th sack up the ramp, Becca was on her 30th. She stopped at
the top and watched me carry my hundred pound sack up, and set it inplace. I
was gasping for breath, and sweating, my face red. "You need to work on your
fitness, Josh," she said. "Tell you what. You stay here and wait. I'll carry
up the last four sacks and you can stack them."

I nodded thankfully, leaning on the rail for support as I waited for Becca to
bring in the first of the grain sacks. To my surprise I saw the twenty five
year-old stride in with one sack held over each shoulder. I whistled. She was
carrying two hundred pounds and she was walking up the ramp, her back
straight, as if the sacks were filled with foam rubber! She stopped in front
of me, standing her full six feet - and she wasn't even breathing hard!

I tried not to show what an effort it was to lift the first sack off her left
shoulder and place it on the pile. With the second, I gave a louder grunt of
effort.

"I never expected you to carry two sacks at once," I said.

"It's not too hard," she smiled,"You just have to get the balance right." She
returned a minute later with the last two sacks, dropping both neatly in place
without my help. "Now I think we'll have some coffee."

The kitchen of the ranch house had one wall of bare bricks above the old
fireplace. A long steel bar ran most of its length, close to the ceiling,
nearly nine feet up, supported on sturdy brackets, Becca nodded to me to boil
water for the coffee as she stretched her bare arms out wide. She had some
wingspan. Her arms looked like they extended over six feet six, from fingertip
to fingertip.

Stretching her arms upward, she gripped the bar, and began to do a series of
slow pull-ups. "I do at least thirty of these, each morning and evening," she
said, not even slightly breathless as her long arms flexed, drawing her chin
smoothly up through three feet until it was well above the steel bar. She
halted herself at the top for a moment, then she lowered her body again to
full hang.

"Sis is good at those," Harry, her nine year-old young brother walked into the
room as the six-footer continued to pump her whole body smoothly up and down.
Lisa, her seven year-old sister came in to watch. I found myself staring at
the chunky muscles of Rebecca's arms and shoulders as they bunched, rippled
and swelled.

"That's thirty!" she said as she hung loosely from the bar. But instead of
dropping back to her feet, she just let go with her left hand and let her body
hang from her right, swinging round a third of a turn from the wall, so she
could see us. "Now I'll try a few singles," she said.

With that her right arm transformed into a range of muscle as it began to flex
once more. I watched the muscles harden and swell along her arm, as
incredibly, it began to draw her whole bodyweight back upward! The bicep grew
and hardened as it drew her body back up toward the bar, continuing to
contract until her chin was once again level with the bar. She stopped herself
there, then raised her free arm up into a brief flex to match the arm
supporting her.

"That's so cool, big sis!" Harry said, clearly impressed as Becca held the
pose.

"Theres not many people can do this," she said. She repeated the single-arm
chin three more times, keeping her left arm flexed. Harry and Lisa clapped. I
tried to figure out how strong my boss's arm must be to enable her to do that.

At last she dropped to the floor to take her cup of newly brewed coffee.

"Try it," she said to me.

I stepped up to the bar, but struggled to do even one chin. "My arms are tired
from that lifting," I said.

"You need to build up your arm strength."

"I'm a heavy weight to lift,"I smiled. "A lot heavier than you."

"Oh?" Rebecca said, raising an eyebrow. "Let's see," She beckoned me toward
her.

"No.

"You don't disobey me." Rebecca's voice was suddenly very steely. "That's the
number one rule on this property."

"I'll have to be going out,"

"Okay Josh." Her big arm stretched out and caught me round the body. It was
startlingly strong and stopped me dead. I pushed against it, but was surprised
that I couldn't move. She adjusted her body, and her other arm swept beneath
my legs, it lifted, and suddenly I was hoisted up in the air, being carried in
her arms like a kid!

I tried to get down, but her arms were so strong! They were like iron. She
turned and carried me across the kitchen with both the kids watching and
laughing. I could barely believe it. She weighed considerably less than me.
But she was carrying my two hundred pounds with apparent ease. She took me out
through the kitchen door and onto the porch. I couldn't do anything to fight
her strong grip. Her arms clasped me firmly enough to hold my body next to
immobile. My struggles only made her tighten her grip even more, rolling my
body up against her shoulders so that I was being carried sideways-on.

"Put me down!" I cried. But she ignored me. I couldn't free myself. I could
hardly move. All I could see, looking down over her shoulder, were her long
legs far beneath me. as she strode down the steps and out across the yard, the
children still trailing behind us.

I could see we were approaching the main cattle barn. Here Rebecca stopped.
She turned and held me over a run of slurry. "Who's the boss here, Josh?" she
asked.

"You are!" I said urgently. "Please don't drop me."

"Okay," she grinned, moving me from above the slurry to a pile of hay.
Suddenly her arms relaxed beneath me, and I fell heavily into the hay.

"We need to brand a calf now, Josh," she said to me. "You'll need to get a
fire going." She nodded toward a brazier. "Take it over to the corral."

I did as she ordered. Running around inside the corral, was a stocky bullock
calf whose head came up to the height of my chest. Rebecca placed her hands on
the top rail of the five foot wooden fence and vaulted smoothly over it into
the corral. She picked up a looped rope, and threw it around its neck. Then,
as I watched, she began to reel it in. The calf resisted and tried to draw
away, but Becca held firm, leaning away from the calf, her long legs braced as
she fought it. I watched the long muscles snake and ripple along her arms as
she pulled. The calf tried to resist, tearing against the rope, bucking, and
trying to pull its body away. But Becca never gave it any slack. When the
young bullock tried to pull away, she braced herself against it, not giving an
inch, then, when it tired, and its struggles eased, she reeled it in.

I watched the solid deltoids of her shoulders flaring and rippling as the
young animal was drawn steadily toward her. I was surprised how firmly she
reeled it in. The calf was a lot heavier than she was, It probably weighed 300
pounds but that didn't help it at all. It was loose-limbed and immature, where
Rebecca's hundred and seventy pounds were solid bone and muscle. The calf
tried to resist, but Becca just braced herself against its struggles, then
reeled it in once it tired. Her arms could clearly pull with enormous force. I
whistled as the young bullock staggered and then stumbled toward her.

Once the calf was within reach, Sarah dropped the rope and threw her arms
around its head and neck, linking them firmly about its muzzle. "I've got him
now," she called. Her arms hardened, tightening their grip around the calf's
head, so that it couldn't move. Then she began to twist with her strong arms,
forcing the calf's head up and around.

She braced her legs, throwing all of her bodyweight into the turning pressure,
wrenching the calf's nose upward and twisting its head around. The young
bullock struggled fiercely to break free, but the tall young woman's arms were
like steel. Once she'd set them rigid, the bellowing calf could not budge them
a fraction of an inch.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," Becca grinned. "He's trying to fight me, but he's starting to tire."
The calf's head was horizontal now. " I'm going to put on a little more
pressure.." The muscles on her arms defined even more starkly. I saw the calf
stagger sideways.This girl was really strong. It's head was pointing almost
directly upward now. The calf stumbled again as it tried to stay upright, its
neck under enormous pressure. The tall blonde gave a soft grunt of effort, and
suddenly the calf lost its balance completely, crashing to the ground with
Rebecca on top of it.

The calf struggled to rise, but she kept its head in a vice-tight grip, her
corded arms continued to apply the pressure as she moved her legs across its
body, clamping them across its front legs. Its back legs still thrashed
helplessly.

"Shall I tie it now?" I asked.

"No. Wait till it stops fighting." Her arms tightened yet again, applying
still more pressure. The calf's struggles weakened immediately. "Hush," she
said, "calm down." But the tall twenty five year old held it in an iron grip
until it was fully subdued, maintaining the fierce pressure on its neck until
it gave up struggling and lay completely still.

"Okay!" she yelled to to me.

Becca waited a few more moments, her arms still applying their crushing grip,
until she was sure the animal was fully uncnscious, then she released her
grip, standing tall and stepping back. The 300 pound bullock just lay there,
motionless.

"Sis sure is strong," Harry said, looking on. I had to agree with him.

I came forward with a long iron from the brazier, and handed it to her. She
bent, and applied the brand. "There. It didn't feel a thing," she said.

The newly-branded bullock lay there for some minutes as its flesh steamed and
cooled. Then it slowly began to come round. A couple more minutes and it had
stumbled to its feet and ran off round the far side of the corral.

"You're real strong, sis," said Lisa

"Sure am," Becca said. "But Its hot work." She strode into the house, picked
up a full carton of milk and drained it down in one long gulp.

I soon found that Rebecca had a mean appetite. At lunch Rebecca sat down in
front of a 16 ounce steak. "So long as I keep working," she said, "I don't put
on an ounce of weight apart from my muscles, which just keep on getting
harder." She reached across the table and I could see her tanned muscles
flickering. "I need a lot of protein and fuel, " she added. "I must eat around
fifteen pounds of meat or fish most weeks - that's just for me. The kids don't
eat nearly that much. But I need the energy, wrestling calves and wrangling
livestock."

"You could have been injured by that calf." I said.

"I wasn't in any danger," she shook out her blonde mass of hair. "I know what
I'm doing. The calf may be bigger than me, but its neck isn't stronger than
these." She spread her long arms wide. "I could have snapped its neck if I'd
wanted to. I've done it before."

"You broke a calf's neck?"

"Once, when I was eighteen. It's not a lot more difficult than taking the
animal down. An injured bullock started to panic while I was holding it down.
There were kids around. I already had its head in my arms. I had to make a
quick choice. So I just put in one big twist. There was a crack, and then no
more resistance. I'm more than strong enough."

"To break its neck?" I said.

"Sure." Rebecca strode outside, and walked toward a line of fencing. She bent
and wrapped her arms around a four inch by two inch beam of wood that stuck
out almost two feet from the end of the fence. Gripping it tight in her arms,
she twisted, applying upward pressure. I began to hear a cracking from the
wood as she increased the pressure. The cracking and tearing sounds grew
louder as she continued to twist, and her dense muscles hardened. I saw the
beam end begin to move. Then there was a dull screaming crack as the four by
two broke.and tore off. "There!" she said, straightening with the broken-off
beam-end in her arms. She handed the piece of wood to me. "No calf's neck is
stronger than that."

I looked at Rebecca with new respect. She was not only ten years younger than
me, and a lot better looking, but she was also amazingly strong.