Angel of Salvation
by Spoonmaster - written for DTM / Amy's Conquest



*** The Below is an extended segment from this story, written for us by the
Awesomely talented Spoonmaster, whose other stories you can read here on Diana The
Valkyrie and on amazonlove.org.

For the Full Story of "Angel Of Salvation", please visit our Member's Section at
Amy's Conquest (www.amysconquest.com). Thanks all, and as always, hope you
Enjoy! ***

********************


Four years! Four years since I'd left Westlake. I thought when I left that I'd
never return; I certainly never wanted to return. I had bad memories from this
place. Sure there were good ones too, but the bad were much more recent, and
much, much stronger. I stopped my car in front of the sign that said# Welcome to
Westlake. For a long while I seriously considered turning around, but in the end
I really had no choice. A twenty-two year old man who just graduated college
with no job experience didn't exactly have a lot of choices in where he worked,
and the family connection gave me an opportunity that really was too good to
pass up. So ever so reluctantly, I put the car back in drive and headed on to my
new home.

The second floor, one bedroom condo wasn't all that big, but then at five feet
eight inches tall, I wasn't either, and the price was right. It was a relatively
easy move. I didn't really have much in the way of furniture. A desk, a dresser
and a bed were all donated by my parents. A couch, a few folding chairs and an
odd assortment of tables all came from Goodwill and looked it, but again the
price was right. The only piece of furniture I already owned, a weight set, was
thrown in the corner, where it sat mocking me. I really thought I could get
bigger and stronger, at least strong enough to defend myself, but this body was
just meant to be a hundred fifty pounds of skin, bones and beer gut. I really
should throw the thing in the trash, but I keep telling myself that I'll start
working out again. Now that I'm back, the need to get stronger is greater than
ever.

All and all, I was fine with my meagre dwelling. It might be humble, but it was
mine, and I'd be able to afford some better stuff once I started getting some
pay-checks. For now, what I had would do.

It only took me a couple of days to find a place for everything. Besides my
parents, no one came calling and that was fine with me, there was no one else I
wanted to see. The future is what I was most interested in. It was time to bury
the past. I decided to make that my motto:# live for the moment. It seemed like
it would be a great way for me to carry on. It lasted until the doorbell rang on
my third day back. My outlook on life was about to change in ways I could never
have expected.

I assumed it was my parents, as far as I knew they were the only ones who knew I
was in town. So I was surprised to open the door to find a beautiful woman
looking back at me. She was a couple inches shorter than me, with dirty blonde
hair that fell in waves to the middle of her back and framed a gorgeous, tanned
face. High cheekbones set against a small mouth with lush red lips, slightly
opened to reveal gleaming white teeth. A thin nose led up to deep brown eyes
that seemed to glisten with excitement. Long lashes and well-trimmed eyebrows
gave her an elegant look.

She wore a pink hoodie that was unzipped low enough to display an impressive
amount of cleavage. The rest of the top was too baggy to tell much what her body
looked like, but the short jean-shorts she was wearing displayed well-muscled
thighs and nicely-toned calves wrapped in silky-smooth skin.

The twinkle in her eye and warmth of her smile enhanced her natural beauty. I
was so entranced by her beauty; it took me a moment to realize I was staring. I
could feel my face redden as I shook myself from my stupor. I finally get a
smoking-hot neighbor and all I can do is gawk at her like some buffoon! Great
first impression.

"Uh, hi. How... uh... how are you... uh, doing?" Yeah, that was much better.

She just stood there, with an expectant look on her face. I stared back, trying
and failing to keep my eyes from dropping down to her inviting cleavage. Her
breasts must have been huge. What the hell was she waiting for? Oh. "Oh, I'm...
I'm sorry. My name is Ethan Hill. Would you like to come in?"

Her grin widened even further as she followed me into my condo. "I know who you
are, silly. Don't tell me you don't remember me!"

I gave her another once over. Her thighs flexed with power as she made her way
into my living room. When she sat, she crossed her legs, causing the muscle of
her calf to bulge out to the side. She bent over slightly, giving me an even
better look at her amazing cleavage. There was no way I###d# ever# forget a body
like that! But that voice... that voice# did# sound strangely familiar. I tore my
gaze from her body and brought it back up to her face, a face that pretty stayed
with a guy. I could recall the face of every model I###d seen on TV, and this face
was at least as pretty, maybe even more, especially those eyes. The way they
twinkled, like gazing into the stars... that twinkle! There was something so
familiar about... I# did# know her! I was suddenly sure of it! I closed my eyes,
tried to shut out the incredible vision of her beauty, and concentrated on her
voice. I played back what she just said in my mind. Funny, she sounded just
like...

My eyes shot open, getting wider and wider as I stared at the woman in front of
me. "Erica!"

Her whole face lit up at the sound of her name. "It's me! How could you have
forgotten me?" She said with a bit of a pout. "Though in your defense, I do look
a little different."

********************

A little different? That was the understatement of the decade.

The Erica Hayward that moved into my neighborhood with her family when I was in
middle school bore little resemblance to the dazzling coed sitting before me.
The Erica Hayward I grew up with never put highlights in her hair, and she wore
glasses. The eyes were the same color, and that same twinkle was there, but
Erica never smiled that wide, at least not often, and she certainly wasn't
anywhere near as fit as the woman crossing her powerfully toned thighs on my
sofa

Erica Hayward was fat, or at the very least overweight, when we were in middle
school. Not that I cared all that much. I never had much luck getting along with
women, and the fact that Erica even talked to me, let alone seemed to enjoy my
company, made her more appealing to me than any other woman I knew.

You see, I'm a bona-fide nerd. I like Star Trek and Star Wars, I play computers
games and role-playing games, I collect comic books and action figures, and I
read sci-fi and fantasy novels. I've never been good at sports, and quite
honestly, could care less about any of them. I was never interested in fashion;
most of my shirts bore designs reflecting my interests. And I had trouble
relating to people outside the scope of my interests. As a result, I got made
fun of in school. I got made fun of quite a lot.

Erica didn't share many of my interests, but she was a fat girl in a society
that shunned the obese, and so she lived with the same burden of solitude that I
did. Not that Erica was ugly. If you could see past the extra weight, you could
tell that she was pretty. Her eyes had always been enticing, and her mirth was
contagious. But more than that, she was such a good person. She was so kind to
me, and was just about the only person outside of my family that made me feel
good about being myself. It wasn't long at all before we became fast friends.

Our friendship began to evolve when puberty hit. Like most guys I loved big
boobs, and while Erica's girth gave her sizeable breasts for as long as I knew
her, puberty pushed her past the limits of ridiculous. Suddenly this girl who
was my best friend grew an incredible set of tits I simply found intoxicating. I
fell head over heels.

By some strange twist of fate, she also found me attractive, though I can't
understand why. I never thought I was all that good looking, but Erica at least
pretended she was attracted to me. So we started making out. It didn't take long
before making out turned into dating.

At first it was wonderful. I never thought of myself as the kind of guy who
would have a girlfriend, and so I looked at every day as a miracle, and Erica
seemed to feel the same way. But mine was never to be a life of happiness, and
so it was only a matter of time before my happiness was crushed. The crusher was
Biff.

Terrance Hayward was Erica's older brother, but everyone called him Biff. While
Erica seemed to have waded in the shallow end of the gene pool, Biff hit the
genetic jackpot. He was tall, handsome, strong, muscular, and just smart enough
to get by. He was a natural born athlete good at every sport he tried, which
made him the coolest kid in school. All the prettiest girls in school fawned
over Biff to get him to notice them, while all the coolest guys did whatever was
necessary to stay on his good side. He was king of his domain. He knew it, and
he relished it.

Initially, this was no big deal to me. Biff teased me for sure, especially once
I started dating his sister, but no more than anyone else, in fact a little
less. Truth was, we were so far out of his league that we were beneath his
notice, and from time to time, he even seemed happy his sister found someone.
All that changed when Biff went to college.

In high school, Biff was by far the biggest and strongest kid not just in our
school, but in the whole county. His size and strength allowed him to dominate
in sports without much effort, especially in football, where he was somewhat of
a local legend.

In college however, everyone was the biggest and strongest from their hometown.
Only many of these other athletes had also spent years working on technique and
the mental aspect of their game, two things Biff had never bothered with.
Suddenly the star athlete was just another bench warmer. Biff was sure it was
all just a fluke. He was way too arrogant to ever think himself culpable, and
made no effort to improve himself, thinking that once the seniors left, he'd be
promoted. The coaches noticed his lack of improvement and he didn't even make
the team his second year.

That started his downward spiral. Getting kicked off the team cost him his
smoking hot girlfriend, who was clearly hoping to hitch a ride on a meal ticket.
He also lost his scholarship, and most of his friends, who were all as
materialistic as Biff was. Faced with a loneliness he'd never experienced in his
entire life, he sought solace with the natural crutch of the lonely: alcohol.
The decent into alcoholism was swift and only served to enhance the worst of his
traits. It also caused him to neglect school entirely. The next semester he
flunked out. Disgraced, he moved back home with his parents, a bitter, angry
man.

It was my senior year in high school, Erica was a couple of years younger than
me, and was just starting her Sophomore year. Things were going great between
the two of us, which angered Biff immensely. He couldn't believe that his fat,
ugly sister was dating someone while he was alone. Erica and I became the object
of his wrath.

Over those last couple of years, dating Erica had emboldened me in ways I had
never thought possible. I no longer cared much what anyone thought of me, except
for Erica of course. Like I said, she made me happy to be who I was, and for the
first time in my life I actually had a bit of pride. I started taking offense to
people making fun of Erica, which both endeared her even more to me, and earned
me grudging respect from a decent amount of the student body. So when Biff came
home and started treating Erica like total shit, I stood up for her. Biff was
not as amused with my bravado as other people were.

At first he was just more belligerent. He made sure it was clear that he
wouldn't be taking any shit from Erica or me. In hindsight, I should have seen
that as a warning, but at the time I thought he was all bark. When the bite
came, it was a terrible thing to behold.

At first it was just a push here, or a trip there. I was smart enough to not
fight back. Biff was almost twice my size, and probably close to four times my
strength. At the same time, I had begun to think it was my duty to defend
Erica's honor, and Biff knew how to push my buttons. I tried to stand up to him,
show him I wasn't afraid, show him I wasn't going to let him be mean to Erica.
And for a while, I thought I was at least holding my own. Then one day, I took
it too far.

I don't know what happened. I guess Biff was either in a bad mood, or drunk, or
both, but he came at me that day. His parents were out of town, and he was
laying into Erica particularly hard, calling her the worst names you can call a
woman, on top of every word for fat imaginable. Erica was crying, trying to
leave the house, but Biff wouldn't let her. When I finally showed up, he was
raising his hand like he was going to slap her.

Biff was often belligerent, but he had never been violent, toward his sister at
least. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he had never hit his sister that gave
me the courage to intervene. I stood before Erica, telling Biff to back away,
feeling so brave, like a true hero, and a little excited. Sticking up for Erica
often earned me a "special reward", and I was feeling especially randy.

Unfortunately, I only thought I knew Biff. I misjudged him, and now I was going
to pay. He hit me. He hit me hard. I had been hit before; bullies often hit
weaker kids to make themselves feel better, but never like this before. He was
so strong; it was like he swung a mallet at my gut. My body crumpled to the
ground. I sucked in for air that wouldn't come, and fought the urge to throw up
everywhere.

I could hear Erica crying, but I couldn't move to do anything about it, and
probably wouldn't have done anything if I could move. For the first time in my
life I felt true terror. I always wanted to think of myself as a brave man,
someone who would sacrifice himself to save the woman he loved. The last couple
of years of standing up for Erica had made me believe that lie. But lying there
on the ground at Biff's feet, made me realize what a coward I was. I would have
done anything to make the pain stop, I would have hit Erica myself if it would
have helped. And I felt no remorse, or shame at the thought. Looking back on it
now, I realize how pathetic I was, but at that moment it was the furthest thing
from my mind. At that moment, all that existed was the pain.

Biff was just getting started. He kicked me while I was curled up on the floor,
pulled me back to my feet and punched me in my face. He picked me up, with
frightening ease, and literally threw me across the room. I was howling in pain,
begging him to stop hurting me, promising to do anything he wanted.
Unfortunately, this gave Biff a terrible idea.

He left the room, with me writhing on the ground. Erica rushed up to me, trying
to help me up to leave, but I was in so much pain, and furious with her. This
was all her fault! I wouldn't be in this predicament if it weren###t for her.
Between sobs, I yelled at her to get away from me, which made her cry even more.
Then Biff came back.

He brought a camcorder with him and wore a sadistic smile, which sent further
tremors down my spine. He told me he'd stop beating me up as long as I did
exactly what he said. The next twenty minutes were the worst moments of my life.
He made me strip down naked, while filming it, and then made me do all kinds of
horrible degrading things; shoving various things up my butt, eating disgusting
things, crawling around making animal sounds, whacking off. He filmed it all. I
cried the whole time, but never once thought of disobeying. My whole body was in
agony, and I was willing to do whatever it took to stop the pain.

Finally, Biff tired of his game, and went to upload his video on the Internet.
Erica was sobbing. She had watched the whole thing from the corner. She moved to
comfort me, trying to tell me that it was going to be all right, but I hardly
heard a word she said. I was so terrified that Biff might come back down that I
grabbed my clothes, ran out the door to my car naked, and then sped away as fast
as my car would go. It was a wonder I didn't get in an accident.

Biff posted the video he'd made online and spammed out emails to everyone at
school with the web link. The website took it down after just one day, but the
damage was already done. Going back to school, seeing the way everyone looked at
me, knowing what they saw me do, was almost more than I could bear. No one knew
what to say, so they said nothing, and I was glad they didn###t. I never wanted to
talk to anyone again.

Putting the video online turned out to be a stupid move for Biff. He was dumb
enough to put himself on camera, mostly laughing at the things he was making me
do, and verbally threatening to beat me up and kill me. It was more than enough;
Biff was arrested, tried and convicted on assault, battery, and a dozen other
things. He was sentenced right before I graduated. It felt good that he was
behind bars, but his incarceration did little to lessen the humiliation I felt
everyday going to school.

But the worst was with Erica. Naturally, she felt terrible about the whole
thing, and wanted to try to make it up to me, but I was so irrationally mad at
her. If I so much as thought of her name, the entire event with Biff would play
out so vividly in my mind that I would wind up curled on the floor in actual
pain. The first time she approached me after the incident, I got so mad I
screamed at her until she left me alone. Shortly after that, I transferred to
another school. I didn't see Erica much after that.

The worst part was, I still loved her of course. I missed her so much when she
wasn't with me, but the mere sight of her sent me into psychotic episodes that I
simply couldn't control. I just wound up being miserable all the time.

I was initially going to pick a college close to home, so that I could spend
more time with Erica, but after my encounter with Biff, I chose a college on the
other side of the country. It was a relief to get out of town, away from all
those bad memories. After four years of college, and enough hours of therapy to
qualify for a rewards program, I was doing much better. The incident was still
with me, it will always be with me, but it didn't control my life the way it
once did.

**********************

Except now Erica was sitting in my living room. The color drained from my face
as I realized who she was. All thoughts of her beauty left my mind, replaced by
the indelible image of the beating I had suffered at her brother's hands. My
throat dried up and my heart started pounding as terror seized my body. I closed
my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to get my emotions under control.

I turned away from her, unable to even look at her. "What are you doing here?"
My voice was shaking, and only partially with fear. There was also shame, a deep
shame at the way I treated her after the incident. I had no right to blame her
for my problems, but I did anyway. There was little doubt in my mind that she
must hate me.# 

There was a pause. When she spoke again, the playfulness was gone from her
voice, replaced by uncertainty. "I... I wanted to see you."

I turned around slowly, forcing myself to look at her. For a second I didn't
understand, and then it dawned on me, the way she was dressed, what she was
undoubtedly wearing underneath that hoodie. "I know why you're here. You want to
show me how beautiful you've become. You wanted me to see what I'm missing out
in because I'm such a coward. That's fine. I suppose I deserve that. But you
should know that as much as you might hate and revile me, it's nothing compared
to how much I hate and revile myself."

Erica's eyes started to well up in tears. "I don't hate you, Ethan, I love you.
And I'm so sorry for what happened, it was all my fault. Let me make it up to
you, let me try to make things right between us."

Make it up to me? I thought she was going to be furious at me, or at least make
me jealous that she looked so good, but make it up to me? Once again I noticed
her outfit, how bare her legs were, and what she must be hiding underneath that
hoodie. Her hand was up near the zipper. A few minutes ago, when I thought she
was a complete stranger, I would have been delighted at the thought of intimate
contact with such a beautiful creature. But now, seeing her look at me with
those seductive eyes, I felt my blood begin to boil, and not from passion.# 

"You came here to have sex with me!? I got my ass kicked and publicly humiliated
in front of everyone I know and you think a little hop in the sack is going to
make everything all better!?

###I couldn't breathe without it hurting for three months! It took over a year of
therapy until I could close my eyes without seeing and feeling your brother
kicking my ass, and you think because you lost a little weight you could saunter
in here, give me a blow job and make everything all right! What the hell is
wrong with you! He ruined my life! How the hell can you just... Get the fuck out
of here!" I was screaming so loud the windows were shaking. Blood was pounding
in my ears and my eyes were getting blurry as my body trembled with rage.

Erica was clearly envisioning a different conversation. Her tanned skin turned
pale, and her eyes widened with surprise. But she stood up and planted her feet
squarely on the ground like she was taking root. She talked in a quiet, soothing
voice one would use with a crying child. "Calm down, Ethan. Just stop... Take a
breath and stop." Her voice quivered with uncertainty, but her eyes were steady
and her posture rigid. She wasn't going to back down despite whatever misgiving
she might be feeling.

"Look, I can't imagine what you must have gone through, and this is coming from
a person who was the subject of scorn and ridicule for most of her life. And I
felt terrible, I still feel terrible. Not a day goes by that I don't think about
what happened, and not a day goes by that I don't feel guilty because it
happened to you while you were defending me. That makes it my fault, and I've
felt guilty every day since. I need to make it up to you, Ethan. And yes, I
thought that having sex with me might make you feel better. Believe me, Ethan,
I've learned how to make a man's toes curl without even touching him." Her voice
was gaining strength and resolve. She even managed a seductive tone. "And when I
do touch a man, I can make him feel sensations he didn't even know existed."

I gulped loudly at that last part and felt my anger slightly abate. No one had
ever said anything like that to me before, not even Erica when we used to date.

"But I didn't come here just for sex, Ethan. You protected me, and not just
against Biff. You stood up for me against a lot of people. And the one time you
needed me the most, I just cowered in the corner like some coward. You deserved
more than that, you earned more than that. I realized that I had no right to
expect you to protect me. It's not your job to protect me."

Her words hurt just as much as any of Biff's punches. Well... "It was my job to
protect you, Erica. You think I didn't want to protect you? You think I wouldn't
do anything to be able to stand up to your brother, or anyone else who wants to
hurt you... but I can't, Erica, I can't beat him, I can't beat anyone." My eyes
started to tear up. "And I wanted to be that guy for you, the guy that loves you
so much that he's willing to die for you, because I love you, Erica, I've always
loved you."

Saying it brought back all the pain and the loneliness. For a moment I couldn't
speak, but I had to go on. "But I'm not that guy. I don't want to get beat up, I
don't want to get hurt." I could feel tears rolling down my cheek, and didn't
stop them. I should be crying like a baby. It seemed fitting. "I'm sorry. You
deserve a guy who'll defend you, but I can't... I'm just too scared."

Erica's eyes welled up, but she didn't cry. She took a couple of long deep
breaths before she went on. "You are wonderful in so many different ways. You're
the only person I ever met that made me feel like I was fine the way I was. You
gave me pride, which is something I never felt before I met you.

"And so what if you're not a fighter. Not everyone is big and strong, not
everyone is built to be able to protect people. And it's okay to be afraid of a
guy like Biff, anyone with the sense that God gave a pistachio would be afraid
of a guy like Biff. But being afraid doesn't change all the ways that you are a
wonderful person. You went through hell, all because of me. No one should have
to go through that, and not a day goes by that I don't wish that there was
something I could do to make it up to you."

Another couple of deep breaths. But this time she wasn't fighting back tears.
There was a fire in her eyes, a rage I had never seen from her before. I took a
step back in spite of myself.

"Well, the time for wishing is over." She reached up and grabbed the zipper of
her hoodie. "I'm going to make it up to you, in the only way I know how."

She pulled down the zipper. As she did, her huge tits seemed to expand further
and further to epic proportions. As Erica shrugged out of the hoodie I couldn't
help but stare; they were simply magnificent, straining the white sports bra she
wore beneath to its limits. For a moment, I forgot my remembered fear and pain.
Instead, I recalled how, big, soft and smooth her breasts were, how wonderful
they were to feel, how much I loved to suck on them. Despite Biff's omnipresent
threat, I yearned to envelop myself in the vast expanse of her cleavage.

Unfortunately, it was only a fleeting moment. The very thought of physical
contact with this woman I still loved brought back the phantom pain of my brutal
beating. I loved sex as much as the next guy, but sometimes it simply wasn't
worth it. "I'm sorry Erica, but sex isn't going to make things better." I felt
dejected saying it. "In fact, in this case, it may make things worse."

The impish grin she wore when I opened my door was back. "I'm not talking about
sex Ethan, though I like where your head's at. I'm talking about these." She
dropped the garment and raised her arms out to her sides.

For the first time since she removed her hoodie, I tore my eyes from her chest,
and was surprised to see her flexing her biceps. Even more surprising was how
big those biceps were. Two impressive peaks of muscle rose up from her toned,
buff arms. They weren't huge, but they were definitely much bigger than you'd
expect to see on a girl. One of my hands wandered up to my own meagre bicep.
There was little doubt in my mind that the muscle I was looking at was bigger
than my own, probably by a good bit, despite my slight height advantage.

And it wasn't just her biceps. The bulge under her arm hinted to an equally
impressive triceps. Her shoulders were broad and solidly built, and her back
flared out from a narrow waist that showed the outline of a solid six-pack.
Coupled with her powerfully-built legs that bulged as she rose to her toes,
Erica cut a pretty impressive image.

"Wow, Erica. You look amazing," I said under my breath. I was more than just a
little impressed by her physique. I had collected a lot of comic books over the
years, and I discovered that I found buff, powerful women very arousing. More
than a few of my comics featured Supergirl, Wonder Woman, Power Girl, She Hulk,
and whatever other various super-strong superheroines I could find. With Erica's
buff physique, huge chest and blonde hair, she looked like she was ripped from
the pages of a Power Girl comic. Quite frankly, I had never been so aroused by a
woman in my life.

Of course, as buff as she looked, she still would be dwarfed by Biff. And Biff
wasn't just big; he was strong as an ox. The guy won local bench press contests!
And while Erica was undoubtedly stronger than me, there was simply no way she
could ever hold a candle to her brother.

That thought was hard to hold on to. Erica was treating me to an impromptu
flexing session, and I was awe inspired by her incredible physique. She relaxed
and flexed her arms several times. I watched in hypnotic fascination every time
the biceps grew and inflated into the solid baseball-sized rock on her arm. She
turned around, still flexing her biceps, and brought her back into play. Holy
shit! I never knew people had so many different muscles on their back, and every
one was prominently etched in a grand tapestry of power and strength. And I
couldn't believe how wide her back had gotten. It was so damned broad I wondered
if I could even get my arms around her!

She turned to the side and lowered her arms. Incredibly thick triceps popped out
of her arm in a perfect horseshoe shape. My god they were huge! They looked
bigger than her biceps. Not only that, but as she flexed, her breasts rose up on
her chest and hardened right before my eyes. Jesus, she had muscle everywhere.

She turned back to the front. Suddenly the faint outline of abs turned into a
rigid cobblestone wall of solid muscle. And it wasn't just her abs; her obliques
were etched in bold relief as well. Her entire abdomen looked as solid as a
brick wall.

Then she stuck out a leg. The thick, toned thigh I had noticed before, separated
into a vast array of incredibly sculpted muscle that looked as solid as an oak
tree. Damn, her thighs looked like they were even bigger than her waist! Two
perfect, diamond shaped calves completed her powerful set of legs.

My attention was brought back up as Erica saved the best for last. First one
then the other, her huge breasts lifted up and solidified into solid-looking
masses of muscle. Erica started bouncing her tits up and down one at a time, or
both at once. I was completely mesmerized by the hypnotic display. She bounced
her mighty tits up and down forever. I just stared the whole time, entranced by
her hypnotic bosom.

Finally, she brought her arms back up to a double biceps flex. Her biceps
actually looked bigger than when her posing routine started. "You see, Biff
isn't the only Hayward with muscle now. I know you can't protect me, and I truly
don't care. Besides, it doesn't matter any more, because from now on, I'm gonna
be the one protecting you!"

For a while I could only stare. She looked incredible, my fantasy woman made
flesh. But then I came back to reality. As powerful and awesome as she looked,
it truly would be a fantasy to think she had any chance of standing up to Biff.
"Erica, you look awesome, you truly do. I can't believe how much you've changed.
But compared to Biff? Even if he was half as strong as he used to be, he'd still
be more than you and I could handle combined." I felt dejected.

Erica relaxed her body, but maintained a smug confidence that belied her words.
"Oh, Biff is hardly half as strong as he used to be, in fact, he's bigger and
stronger than ever. Apparently he spent his whole time in jail working out, and
has hardly put his weights down since getting out. He's so strong, he just beat
the world record in the bench press."

My heart sank further and further with each word. Like Biff needed to be
stronger. And now that he was... Wait a damn second! "Did you just say Biff was
out of jail!? He was supposed to in jail for years!" I didn't need this job. I
could live anywhere. I had a degree right? Who wouldn't want me? I could move to
Europe.

I was mumbling so much in my head; it took me a moment to realize that Erica was
talking to me. "Believe it or not, he got out early for good behavior. But I'm
telling you that you don't have to worry about him any more. I'll protect you
from Biff."

She sounded so confident, was she crazy. "Are you kidding!?# You're telling me
that he's the strongest man in the world! That doesn't bode well for a guy with
a bad temper who thinks I'm responsible for putting him in prison. He told me
he'd kill me if he ever saw me again, and I really have no reason not to take
him at his word. And while I admire your confidence and appreciate all the hard
work you must have put into changing your body, unless you've become a master of
karate, or developed your own Ironman body armor, I don't see how you can hope
to protect me from him."

She wore the broadest smile, like she found the whole thing amusing. Maybe she
was crazy! "As a matter of fact, not only do I have a fourth degree black belt
in karate, I have a fourth degree black belt in jujitsu. But I'd hardly need
either to handle Biff." The way she said it made the very thought sound
ridiculous. "And as for armor." She put her hands on her hips and flexed. Her
entire body hardened into a seemingly impenetrable mass of rock-hard muscle.
"This is the only armor I'll ever need."

Just looking at her insane definition and muscle tone almost made me believe
that she could handle Biff, or whatever else could possibly get thrown my way.
Almost. "Erica, there's no doubt you look strong, but Biff is huge. He###s got to
be five times stronger than me, if not more. And Biff's not the kind of guy to
take it easy on you just because you're his sister."

Erica gave me a patient, loving look. God I just wanted to dive into her arms,
but not so much that I wanted to get my ass kicked. "I'm strong enough to handle
my brother. And I understand that you don't believe me. If I were in your shoes,
I wouldn't believe me either. And I'm absolutely not going to expect you to take
my word for it. Instead, how about this. I'll prove to you, beyond the shadow of
a doubt, that I'm more than a match for Biff. If I can't, then I'll leave and
you'll never see me again. If I can, then we get back together, and I'll make
sure I make it up to you for all the pain and suffering my brother -- and
everyone else -- has ever caused you."

I swallowed hard at that last statement. The way she lightly ran her hand over
her breast as she spoke left little doubt how she planned to "make it up to me",
a prospect that excited me immensely. Erica and I had our fair share of sex
while we were dating, and I thought it was wonderful back then. But in my
wildest dreams I never imagined having sex with such a woman as gorgeous as the
one Erica had become. On top of that, if she was half as powerful as she claimed
to be, she'd fulfil fantasies I'd never thought possible. How could I say no?

"All right, if you put it that way...### Truth was, beyond the fact that Erica had
turned herself into a total babe, I did still love her. Missing her was one of
the things that had kept me perpetually depressed over the last four years.
Knowing she'd be here and I'd never be able to see her was one of the things
that made coming back home so hard. My heart yearned for her to prove she could
do what I knew in my head to be impossible. "So, how do you propose we do this?"

She put her finger up to her chin and started tapping it as she looked around my
sparse apartment. Suddenly her eyes lit up. "Well, how about this. You said you
think Biff is five or six times stronger than you right?"

"Yeah, if I had to guess, I'd say somewhere around there."

"Okay, and do you think I'm stronger than you?" She flexed her biceps again, in
case I forgot how buff she'd become.

"Well, you clearly look stronger than me, and I was never much of an athlete, so
yeah, I'd be surprised if you weren't stronger than me."

Her face lit up at the admission. "Perfect. So, how much stronger than you do
you think I am."

Now I had to think about that for a moment. There really wasn't any doubt that
Erica was stronger than me, but that wasn't exactly a huge hurdle. One of the
reasons my parents bought me a weight set is because I was too embarrassed to
work out at a gym. Sure enough, when I started lifting at home, the weights I
could handle were pathetic, and after months of training as best as I could,
they didn't get much better. Still I did have a little height advantage, though
the more I looked at her body, the more I wasn't sure whether or not I had a
weight advantage. "I don't know, maybe twice as strong?"

Erica either didn't care for my lack of conviction, or was upset at my lack of
faith in her strength. Either way I got a bit of a condescending look before it
melted away, replaced once more by that dazzling smile. "Okay, why don't we
start with testing that, to see if I am indeed twice as strong as you." She
headed over to my weight bench and put her hands on her hips, looking over my
set up. It was actually a pretty decent set up. My parents are well off and they
hoped that having an expensive weight set would inspire me to use it. The dust
collecting on most of the plates spoke to how well that strategy panned out.
"So, how much can you lift?" She asked.

I could only shrug. It had been years since I touched a weight. Besides, I was
more than a little embarrassed to tell her what I remember lifting. "I honestly
don't know."

The smile she gave me this time had a little mischievousness to it. "Well let###s
find out then." She took a bar that was bent in several different places and put
a pair of weights on it. The twenty-five pound weight discs she added were
bigger than what I used to use. I gulped so loudly I'd be shocked if she didn't
hear me.

"All right, this looks like a standard fifteen-pound bar, so this would be
sixty-five pounds, a pretty decent starting weight for curls. Now why don't you
come over here and show me what you got."

I could feel my face redden from embarrassment as I got a sinking feeling I knew
where this was going. Though if we were going to find out how much stronger than
me she was, I suppose knowing how strong I am was pretty relevant. So with great
reluctance, I walked up to the barbell and heaved it up off the ground.

My god it was heavy! I got it up to my waist, but as I felt the weight of the
thing pulling down on my arms, I had little hope that I'd be able to curl so
much. Still, I gave it the good ole college try. I took a couple of deep breaths
and heaved up on the barbell with all of my might. To my credit, my arms did
move, and I probably got the barbell about a third of the way up, but it was not
going any further. A decent starting weight? Maybe for the Incredible Hulk!

"Oh wait!" Erica said. "I almost forgot, when you're lifting heavy weights you
should always use a spotter." She moved to stand right in front of me, and
placed two fingers from each hand on the bar outside of my hands. "I'm sorry,
that was my bad, I should know better. Now why don't you try that again."

Her broad grin told me that she was up to something, but I couldn't for the life
of me figure out what. So I decided to play along. I took another couple of deep
breaths, tensed my arms, and with a loud grunt pulled up on the weight with all
of my might.

This time the barbell moved quite easily. The same bar I couldn't get halfway up
just a moment ago felt like a light warm-up weight. I looked at Erica, who
smiled at me pleasantly. There was no indication she was exerting any force on
the barbell at all, hell she only had four fingers on it, and her biceps looked
completely relaxed, how much force could she be putting on it? Nonetheless, she
was clearly supporting a better part of the weight, and with minimal effort.
Maybe she was stronger than I thought.

"You see," she said in an encouraging tone. "All you needed was a little spot.
You wanna do a couple of reps?"

"Sure." Of course using a spotter would never make this much difference, though
I'd never used a spotter before, since I did all of my workouts in private. The
truth was, I was a little excited to see where this was going. Erica said she
was going to lift twice what I could lift, and if she was going to help me lift
more than I could on my own, maybe she was stronger than she looked. I lowered
the weight back to my waist and curled it back up again. It was so easy, I did a
whole bunch of reps. I could hardly keep the smile from my face. Despite the
fact that I knew Erica was doing a good part of the work, there was a bit of me
that imagined that I was doing it all myself. It felt pretty cool to be so
strong.

"All right, that seems too easy for you. How about we add a little more weight?"
When the bar got back down to my waist, she took her fingers away. The increase
of weight was so sudden and surprising, I nearly dropped the bar. I quickly set
it down, so that Erica wouldn't notice, but she was already off retrieving more
weights.

She came back with another pair of twenty-fives and put one on each side.
"There; 115 pounds. That should be enough to make you work for it." She motioned
for me to grab the bar.

She had to know that I couldn't even lift the lighter weight on my own, let
alone this heavier barbell. What was she playing at? Still, I was curious to see
where this was going, so I reached down and pulled up on the weight.

Holy fuck! It was heavy as shit. Jesus, it felt like my arms were going to fall
off. It was all I could do to keep from dropping it. I could feel the blood
rushing to my head and arms, and soon, my whole body was shaking. No way I was
curling this!

I was just about to drop it back on the floor, when suddenly Erica was there.
Again she slipped two fingers from either hand under the bar and suddenly the
overwhelming weight became completely manageable. I gave Erica a look of
amazement. She still gave no sign that she was exerting any force at all. Her
body seemed totally relaxed, and she still wore a lazy smile on her face, but
there was no denying that she was supporting most of the weight. Just how strong
was she?


**********

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