ASHLEY'S LITTLE TOY
By Plowjack - written for DTM / Amy's Conquest



*** The Below is an extended segment from this story, written for us by
Legendary author, Plowjack, whose other amazing Amazon stories

can be found in his own Bookshelf, right here on Diana The Valkyrie!

For the Full Story of "Ashley's Little Toy", please visit our Member's Section
at Amy's Conquest (www.amysconquest.com), OR purchase it

on its own on our AC site.

Thanks all, and as always, hope you Enjoy! ***

Ashley pulled hard on the tongs with her left arm, bending the sheet of iron
just the right few inches. Working quickly, she finished her weld, and doused
the torch. Nice - the extra curve gave just the right 'sweep' to the
sculpture. She would probably call the piece done - and that meant payday.
Ashley liked payday!

She hooked the lift chains to the carefully-hidden lift-points and considered
the winch-switch. Nah. She gripped the clean steel chain in her left hand and
reached high with her right, pulling against the weight of the five-foot steel
sculpture. Nothing much happened.

"OK, bitch," the 5'10" artist growled, and pulled harder. An observer would
have seen her smooth back, shoulders and arms swell with hard muscle, as she
hoisted the piece into the air and held it while the swing calmed, hooking the
chain into the winch to hold it. Steadying the piece, she applied her weight
to slowly lower it to the big flat dolly on the floor. With another heave she
rolled it into a corner.

"There bitch!" she growled harder, and made a hulk-flex at it, showing her
teeth.

Laughing, she pulled off the thick leather apron and headed in to her house,
out the door of her shop and studio into her basement, past the weights. She
stopped for a round at the heavy bag, pounding it bare-fisted until it swung,
then stopping it with her thick hips. "Ashley wins," she growled - her
personal motto - and she headed into the shower, dropping her clothes behind
her.

Emerging wet and clean she was still feeling all muscle-y, and she posed into
the weight-area mirror.

Her glamour pose still looked good, she thought. At 30 she had a flat,
muscular belly, but more padding on her powerful ass and thighs than once
before. She flexed her thighs and there was no missing the thick muscles, and
her abs popped nicely. Her D-cup bosom was still round and firm, with slabs of
muscle behind her tits. She loved where her arms were at - relaxed she looked
smooth, maybe even soft, though obviously thick. She flexed her arms and
chest, looking bigger, then raised her arms and hit the double-bicep shot, her
baseball peaks looking like the biggest rock in a bag of stones. Chuckling,
she humped her pussy forward hard a few times.

"Ashley wins, boys ... "

**********

The Shire was one of the oldest taverns still in business in the little
boutique town of Coventry. Far from trendy, it had been named in 1965, when
pretty much nobody but the founder, Margery, had read "Lord of the Rings". She
built a round front door, and opened for second breakfast, and was still in
business 30 years later.

Mick Boggs was a sophomore, just about to turn 21, and he had little trouble
drinking in most bars despite being not quite legal. 6'2" tall, he was built
broad in the shoulders and hairy in the face. Really he kept a trim beard and
dressed simply, but in jeans and a work-shirt it amused him to be taken for a
tough guy, since he was really a bookworm, who had never seen the inside of a
gym. Who cared? He had sold a few stories, finished (if not sold) his first
novel, and had an energetic social life of music and gaming. Tonight he meant
to drink, and maybe go home with a girl. Two of his exes were in the bar -
Moira, the diminutive, huge-busted redhead and tall, blonde, muscular Alex
(Alexandra, but known as 'Big Al') the school field-hockey star. He might make
a move for Moira - she liked him, and she was soft and sweet as a bowl of
icing. A night with Big Al tended to leave bruises ... which he kind-of liked
... but she was scary.

He had arrived early, and had a couple of beers by the time a tall, thick
redhead made her way in the door and across to the bar. She looked tall and
broad, but very curvy, in a pair of tight, heavy denim jeans and a small
cap-sleeve top, all black. Worn Docs and a heavy leather belt, she looked
kinda ... tough. Mick watched her.

"Hey, Ashley!" Alex, his ex, called, and the two greeted on another with hugs
- obviously friends. Good, he thought, keep Alex busy. He scanned the room as
he finished a beer.

"Hey Mickey," he heard behind him, and here comes Alexandra with the red-head,
who she introduces as Ashley.

"Talk to my friend, Mickey," the big blonde said, friendly and bubbly.

"Mickey, Ashley has been working too hard. Have a drink and chat with her.
Ashley, Mickey's just a nice guy ... try to relax ... " and off she went,
returning to her table of friends.

"Uh, hi Mickey," Ashley said, giving him a simple smile. She looked amused,
but they both knew it was hard to turn Big Al down.

"Mick," he said, and extended a hand. Ashley's hands were white and
well-manicured, but her grip was firm, and her smile became more genuine, "So,
may I buy you a ... "

"Beer," she said indicating the bottle she had, something dark and local ...
very nice.

He brought back four bottles.

"This stuff is just fine a little warmer, and it's gonna get crowded," he
said, and she took a long pull at the first one.

"Just a nice guy," he said with a smirk, "great recommendation."

"Well, you seem nice," she said, with a smile.

Mick was impressed with the redhead. She seemed a bit overweight - her arms
were huge, and he wondered whether there was muscle involved. Her chest was
equally big, with a deep cleavage above the curve of her breasts. She was a
big girl - probably almost 6 feet tall - but she looked curvy and sweet.

She killed the first round before he finished his first beer.

"Maybe don't try to keep up with me, though, Mickey," she said, winking, "I'm
a bottomless pit."

"Oh, I'm probably up to it," he laughed, and killed his second beer in two
gulps.

Ashley bought the next round, and included shots of whisky, to Mick's delight.
His kind of woman, he thought. They loosened up, chatted, and discovered that
each was an artist. Mick found himself warming to the woman as they talked
about their process, the frustrations of bringing something from idea to
materialization. They chatted and drank, and she laughed at his humor, adding
plenty of her own.

"But, at least it gives me plenty of exercise," she commented, after a
discussion of her struggle for inspiration. She had told him that she was a
sculptor. Mick laughed.

"Yeah, lots of carpal-tunnel exercise, and hours at the keyboard," he said,
"but, what kind of sculpting gives you exercise?"

"Ironwork, baby," she said smiling, and gave her right arm a little flex.

Ashley was enjoying Mickey. He was cute (she liked hairy) and obviously smart,
and she thought he found her cute as well. That was a big plus - some guys
just wrote her off as 'fat' - she liked the focused attention he gave when she
took a nice deep breath. He was insightful about his art, and she enjoyed
their conversation. When the topic came up, she flexed her arm without
thinking.

Oops ... was it too soon? Mickey obviously wasn't a jock ... maybe he wouldn't
be all shrivelled by the sight of the orange-sized ball that popped with just
a little flex. She found it funny to watch some college football guy get all
shy and quiet, or else become loud and insulting. Sometimes she found it funny
to kick their asses, but she didn't feel that way about Mickey - he seemed
nice.

Oh, look at that. His motor-mouth had ground to a halt, but his mouth was open
as he took in the sight of her arm. She knew that look too - he liked what he
saw. He made a vague gesture as if to touch her arm, but she picked up her
beer and raised the bottle, keeping her arm a little flexed.

"To art, then," she said, and they both drank a long hit from the bottles. The
moment seemed to pass, but Mickey was, if anything, more attentive and flirty.

In time they joined the table with Alex and other friends, now mildly
lubricated. Big Al insisted on Mickey sitting next to her on the bench, and
Mick didn't usually say no to her ... just a habit, he'd have said. He was
delighted when Ashley squeezed in next to him, bumping the row over with her
big (big ... ) hips.

"Make room, girls," she said, as Alex moved over "and boys of course," she
said, patting Mick's thigh. Mick was squished for a moment between the two big
women, until Al moved over, bumping little Moira over in turn.

"Gee, maybe Mickey's in trouble," Moira chirped, "he's sitting with two exes
and a date ... "

"Hey, no trouble here," Ashley laughed, drinking, "Cute friends of Big Al's
are friends of mine."

"Ooo, she thinks you're cute, Mickey," Moira said, "My God, you still blush
like that ... "

"See, Ashley ... pretty ... " Alexandra said, patting Mick's cheek.

"Hey don't," Mick said reflexively, and pushed her hand away. Moira gasped,
and watched as Al's hand caught Mick's wrist in a swift grasp.

"Don't," Mick growled, but he seemed unable to stop the woman from pressing
his hand down onto the table., "ow ... don't ... "

"Aw, don't hurt him," Ashley said, and put her arm around his shoulders.

Mickey was humiliated. Of course Alexandra was stronger than he was. She was a
varsity athlete, her hot body rippling with lean muscle. It was mean of her to
bend his arm down like this. He pulled against her grip ... helpless, of
course. The only thing he could ever do ... he gave up, and let her squeeze
his wrist to the table. As usual, surrendering made him hot, and his cock
started to swell in his jeans.

Ashley and Big Al were old friends, who saw each other often at the gym. Now
Ashley grinned evilly and squeezed Mick against her side. She remembered
comments Al had made during her affair with the man.

"Let him go, Al, it's not fair. Look how big and strong you are" Ashley said,
sounding serious, and she grabbed his forearm and pulled. He was surprised
when the blonde let him go.

"Oh I know, Ashley. Mickey's such a little softy. Mick, have you ever beaten
me at arm-wrestling?"

"Say no, Mickey," Moira laughed. Ashley watched the young man blush deep red
again. Al was right - he was really pretty.

Mick was unable to speak, as the girls teased him in front of Ashley. He
mumbled a little trying to protest, but he knew the answer. No, he had never
beaten Alexandra ... at much of anything.

He was thrilled when Ashley put both arms around him and hugged him to her.
Her grip was commanding, and she kept his forearm in her hand, pressing it
into her chest between her breasts. He felt both pinned and embraced ... which
produced a full erection.

"Is that nice, Mickey," she said quietly, and smiled as he muttered yes.

"But really, Mick, you can't beat Big Al?"

"No," he said, quietly.

"I'm not surprised. Alexandra is such a big bully ... look at her arms - she's
obviously too strong for you. Can I kiss you, little Mickey?" Saying the last
quietly, she assumed his assent and he responded sweetly to her kiss, as she
pulled his head down to her lips.

"Little Mickey ... my, my, Ashley - he'll follow you like a puppy now," Moira
said, "I'm built like a marshmallow and he used to beg me to pin him. But the
thing is I think Ashley and Big Al should arm-wrestle!"

Mick had indeed reached a puppy-like state of delight and submission. He
surrendered into Ashley's grip, and she made a little pleased sound as she
tightened him into her, pressing his face into hers with her left hand, her
left arm cradling his back. Under the table her right hand caressed his thigh
and then quickly slid up his hard cock, pausing for a moment to straighten it
out in his pants.

"Aw, that's nice," she whispered, and kissed him again. Then she put her arm
on the table.

"Have we ever given it a go, Al?" she asked, wiggling her thick, short-nailed
fingers.

"Why no, sweetie, I don't think so," the blonde answered. She put her elbow on
the table and flexed. Her arm burst into a thick mass of cable-like, steely
muscle, wrapped around a lemon-sized biceps. Two more flexes and it swelled
bigger, producing a thick vein crawling over the top of a craggy peak.

They were attracting attention in the bar now, and Moira stood up and started
announcing the "fight of the century". "Place yer bets" she laughed, and it
looked like some people might really do it.

"Nice arm, string-bean," Ashley grinned, and flexed her right arm. She was
ginger-pale where Al was bronzed, but her arm seemed bigger than Al's. She
flexed and her biceps rolled up into an orange-sized, round ball, triceps
hardening thick. She wasn't veiny or lean, but another flex made her arm seem
like a huge ball of solid muscle, forearm like a pillar.

"Looks big, but soft, ginger-pie," Big Al smirked, "Come on, then."

Moira set their hands, and arranged their other hands at the elbow.

"Three, two, one, go," she shouted, and a burst of noise went up from the
two-dozen or so spectators.

Watchers could see a bit of shaking between their hands, but the powerful arms
were almost stock-steady. Mick watched as the women's arms swelled and
hardened - especially Alexandra's. He knew she was used to winning, and any
trace of fun had vanished from her face as she bore down on the redhead's
grip. Ashley's arm was huge, her biceps swelling as she held the other woman
motionless.

"Goddamn," Al muttered, and she started to throw her shoulders into the pull.

Mick felt Ashley's big left arm pull him in tighter, her body straight and
tense, but she turned her head and kissed him hard, still holding her own
steadily. The crowd laughed a little, and Al started looking angry, and
pulling hard and sharp against Ashley.

"She's not strong enough, sweet thing," she whispered to him, as Al began to
show desperation, "I'm gonna end this. Ashley wins, sweetie."

Mick watched as Ashley's arm swelled further - she hadn't been using all her
strength! Any sense of softness vanished, and a thick vein popped across her
tall muscle. Her forearm became a bundle of rods and cables, and Big Al's
hard, thinner arm moved steadily away from center.

"Dude, you're strong," Ashley grunted, "nobody holds me up like this."

"Dammit," the blonde muttered, but a second later her arm was slammed to the
table, with a feminine little gasp of pain from the tough blonde.

Moira was announcing "Da Winnah!" and seemed to be collecting money,
especially from a big, unhappy-looking frat type.

Ashley tousled Mick's hair and said, "and I win the pretty brunette!" She
kissed Mick hard again to the sound of hoots and cheers from the bar.

"Ooh, are you alright," Ashley asked, sounding genuinely concerned for her
friend. She reached over and massaged Al's shoulder and arm, and the blonde
patted her hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Alex said, rubbing her arm as well, "Dam, girl, you're the
frackin' hulk! I know you aren't a jock, but I know you lift way heavy ... so
strong ... " She rubbed her arm again as her voice trailed off.

"Ironwork, baby," she said, and flexed her right arm again, still hard and
pumped, "I'm gonna feel that, Al ... "

"I'm gonna be in a sling, I think ... " Al responded, still cradling her arm.

"Oh I hope not, baby," Ashley responded, and called for another round of
shots, "time for scotch therapy."

"Hey I know ... now Ashley and Mickey should arm-wrestle," Moira shouted, well
loosened-up. She handed Ashley a nice fold of cash, which went into a pants
pocket.

"Yeah right ... "

"Oh, don't be silly ... " Mick and Ashley said at the same moment, then
laughed together.

She kissed him quickly. Ashley had been crushing Mick against her side through
the whole match, now she released him, smiling. A row of multiple shots
appeared and when Ashley downed her first Mick was unable to keep himself from
gripping her big arm.

"Gods, it's so h ... hard, y ... you're amazing," he stuttered, and she
laughed, "you want me to try to beat that?"

"That's not even the muscle, sweetie. Here, I know you want to feel this," she
said, and flexed her right arm again. Her pumped biceps sprang to a
mountainous peak, arm seeming to double its thickness with a single flex. Mick
nearly threw himself against her arm, both hands squeezing.

"Wow," he said, and squeezed harder, as she flexed again, "wow ... ".

"Squeeze hard, dude, you won't hurt me ... yeah ... ha, you're obviously a
writer," she laughed, and handed him another shot.

"Here, sweet thing. I'll put my hand on the table, and you hold it down ... "

"Well ... maybe ... " he said, but she lifted his right arm freely, despite
any effort of his, and without the slightest appearance of a flex. Two hands,
she said, and she had to apply a little strength to flop his arms around like
ropes.

As she bent his elbow Ashley reached out and squeezed his biceps.

"Ow," he said, after he swallowed, rubbing his arm.

"Sorry, Mick, I squeezed too hard ... you're kinda soft," she wrapped her big
hand around his upper arm and squeezed more gently, her thumb over his biceps.

"Flex, honey," she said, and Mick felt warmed by her use of the affectionate
name. He was so excited now, even as he felt like hiding from the eyes of the
bar full of people. There was certainly snickering going on; 'lucky little
guy'; 'She looks like she could ... '. Mick flexed his arm, but it felt like
his small, undeveloped biceps was constricted by Ashley's thumb.

"Heh, is there something there? It's so little, I can almost feel it, Mickey,"
she said, winking at the girls, "flex harder. Aw Mickey, it's like a twinkie,"
she laughed. "My goodness, his little arm ... just soft"; he flexed again and
she felt a little strip of muscle firm up under her thumb. She compressed it
easily ... soft as pastry.

"Ow, that's too hard," he whined, and she immediately released him, stroking
his arm.

"Yes, that's my little wimp," Al said, chuckling, "I hope you like weak little
boys, Ashley."

"Now, don't be a bully Al. I'm sorry sweetie ... I'll have to be careful with
little Mickey, but he's very cute. Guys don't have to have muscles for me,
Alexandra ... apparently for you either."

"He is cute, and we have had some fun" Al said, more pleasantly, "Mick had
better keep you happy ... you could crush him like a beer can."

"Sitting right here, ladies. I can give a good account of myself, my dears, as
you have both admitted."

"Oh, I'm sure he's up to a little tumble, aren't you, Mick?"

She reached down under the table and gently touched his crotch. Discovering
that he was hard she once again wrapped him in one arm.

"That's nice, Mickey," she cooed, stroking his length, "nice ... " she cooed
again. "Oh yes, Mickey's all ready for fun," Ashley said, smiling, as she
finished the last shot.

Ashley thought the look on Mickey's face was just darling. Of course she liked
weak men ... she liked sex with men, and almost anybody was weaker than Ashley
- so, she had ways of making it clear that she was the strong one ... the
winner. Mick was blushing continuously, his lips pouty, but his eyes were
fixed on her; he couldn't take them off her arms and chest. He had surrendered
to her kisses completely, and she was certain that she could make a sweet
little fuck-toy out of him.

"Aw, I wanted that," Mick whined, laughing.

"Oh you wanted that," she answered, voice mocking, "You wanted that? Come
here, twinkie," she growled. She put her hand under his butt, and he whooped
when she lifted him onto her thighs. Sitting a head taller than her she pulled
him down onto her chest, gathering him tight in her arms and kissing him
again. Mick felt like he had become smaller, cuddled in huge arms against her
big chest. She didn't object when he cupped and kneaded her breast, and he
moaned quietly as he nuzzled her neck.

Moira and Al had been chatting, mainly ignoring them, now they laughed and
clinked glasses.

"OK, you two are cute as hell, but it's time to get a room," Moira said.

"Mickey, my studio is just around the corner. You wanna come to my house?"

Mickey wanted nothing more than that. "Gee, this is sudden ... will you feel
safe?"

They both laughed out loud.

"Well, come on then, cupcake," she said, and scooted out from under him,
standing. While he was seated, looking up at her, she stepped toward him and
flexed her chest and shoulders. "I said come on," she growled, extending her
hand.

" ... ok" he said quietly, but he looked up at her from his seat like a
drowning man looking at a rope. He took her hand and she pulled him up from
the bench.

"Come on then, big boy," she smiled, looking up at him a few inches taller
than her.

Mick was amused, and maybe humiliated, by a small round of applause and couple
of whistles as they left the bar.

"She'll make hamburger out ... " "He'd better do as ... " he heard laughter as
they went out the back door.

Night had fallen, and the summer air was still warm.

"This alley is quicker," Ashley said, stopping to hold his hands, "Mickey, I
hope you really want to come home with me ... I can be kind of ...
overbearing."

Mickey burst out laughing, "Uh huh ... you could twist me in half, Ashley ...
overbearing ... ha! Yes, Ashley - you're gorgeous ... what a body!"

He gently cupped her big round bosom, taking a chance. Chuckling, she grabbed
the back of his head and pulled his face down into her chest.

"Kiss'em, baby," she said, and he kissed the round firm tops of her breast.

"Good boy," she said, lifting his head and kissing him, "I want you to kiss
whatever I tell you to kiss. Is that OK with you, little Mickey?"

"Sure!" he said enthusiastically.

"Good boy, now come on ... "

"OK, assholes," they heard as they passed through a dark section of the
back-ways, "You cost me a lot of money, and I want it back."

The frat guy from the bar stood in their way, looking like 6'4" of pissed-off.
In cargo shorts and a polo he looked well-muscled but a little paunchy.

"Look at this, the fatty and the faggot," he sneered, stepping up toward Mick,
"That had to be a set-up. This fat bitch couldn't beat Big Al with a 2 x 4.
Now gimme back my money"

Ashley stepped between fratboy and Mick, as Mick squeaked and stepped
backward.

"Fuck off, dude," she said, "you made a bet and you lost. Don't be a baby."

"Bitch ... " he growled, and used his right hand to try to simply push Ashley
out of his way. He towered over the redhead, but his casual shove failed to
move her, in fact throwing him off-balance. She threw a fast, hard punch into
his right shoulder, knocking him off balance and making him stumble to the
ground, holding his arm.

" ... touch me, you asswipe," she said, and made to pull Mick past him.

Mick was terrified. He had never been punched since his school bully-victim
days, and he figured this asshole could pretty much knock his head off. He
squeaked and backed away, but then Ashley stood straight and wide in front of
him. My gods, she'd ... and then the guy was on the ground, and Ashley had
Mick's wrist and was guiding them around the swearing idiot.

Just as they were passing the fratboy reached and grabbed Ashley's left wrist.

"Oh, asshole," she muttered, "stay back Mickey."

She flipped her wrist and grasped his wrist in turn, and began to twist his
arm. He fought her, and Mick saw ropey muscles pop as he resisted. No use, in
five seconds she was twisting his arm until he groaned, and pressing it to the
street.

"You big fuckin' wimp," she growled, and drove a hard punch into his biceps.
He sounded frightened when he yelled, and Mick watched the hard anger in her
face as she drove that fist (powered by that arm ... ) into the man's belly,
once, then again.

"I oughta fuckin liquefy you, you lump of meat, but I've got something better
to do," she said, standing, giving his arm another twist, which made him howl
even as he began to retch. "Keep your hands to yourself, pansy-boy".

"Come on Mickey," she said, "he's not getting up for a while; we might as well
be gone."

Mickey kept up with her, and Ashley, of course, was exhilarated and nearly
soaking her panties. Beating a big, 'tough' guy like that with her fists
always made her just creamy ... she supposed that made her kind of a pervert.

"Ashley ... mi ... miss Ashley," Mick was saying, and she slowed a little
after turning a couple of corners.

"What, honey? Are you OK?" she looked up at him (tall drink o'milk) and he
looked a little scared, uneasy.

"Y ... you're hurting my wrist," he said, sounding meek and timid. She
realized that she had been nearly dragging him by a reflexively hard grip. His
hand was white and cool as she released it, but brought it to her lips.

"Oh I'm sorry, sweetie ... things got a little adrenaline-y," she said,
kissing his fingers and massaging the blood back to his hand.

"Yeah they did ... I didn't even notice until my hand went totally numb a
minute ago. Ashley, you ... you ... pounded that huge guy ... you're ... " He
was babbling as she gathered him into her arms, standing there in a
side-street.

"I'm the strongest, Mickey," she said, and got her arm under his butt. She
scooped him up to cradle him in her arms, and set off walking again.

"Oh Ashley," he said incoherently.

"I know, boy," she said, carrying him effortlessly the last couple of blocks
to a big, roll-up door in the side of an industrial brick pile. She sat him
gently on his feet, patted his ass and kissed him, then pulled a ring of keys
from a pocket, to unlock the door.

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