THE BRIDGE
By GG 



The boat went down quickly - not surprising - it must have been a huge 
bomb. I was naked in my bunk, then found myself clinging to this chunk 
of wreckage, the cold water trying to make my powerful muscles seize up 
after a few minutes. I was not going to let that happen so I kicked 
furiously towards the tiny row of lights which marked the shore line. I 
wish I hadn't anchored so far out in the bay. My nipples were like 
bullets with the cold. 

After a half-hour it was getting light. I must have been about 300 yards 
off then; very early Sunday morning which was good. The sight of a 6'2" 
naked blonde bodybuilder walking out of the sea might have caused a 
fuss: not that I would have given a shit. My only thought was revenge. I 
was going to break that little wimp's neck as soon as I got back. He 
said that if I fought him in court for the divorce settlement he would 
get real nasty - but I was not going to let five million slip away - and 
now I know what he meant. He knew I loved that boat, and thought to get 
me at the same time judging by the size of the explosion. 

My feet touched the sandy bottom and I ran up the beach to a row of 
huts. The main harbour was a small way off. Where to get some clothes? I 
scanned around and saw what could have been a chandlers - or some sort 
of fishing gear shop perhaps - I headed towards it. Yes! There were all 
sorts of outdoor clothes in there - but also a huge new looking alarm on 
the front wall high up. 

I went round the back; there was a solid looking wooden door with a 
businesslike padlock. My legs were tired and cold but there was only one 
way in. My first kick had no effect which surprised me. I tried a bit 
higher up and my foot went straight through like I was kicking 
cardboard. That was more like it! I smashed the other panels easily with 
my fists and climbed in over the metal bar that had stopped the first 
attempt. The noise would have been drowned out by the waves breaking 
against the quay. 

Jeans! Great. I took some levis down from a shelf and pulled them on; 
then a thick cotton shirt and a fisherman's sweater. I pulled some warm 
socks on while I looked around for footwear - there wasn't any ! I had 
seen some deck shoes in the window and I grabbed them. Ugh! size 7 and I 
take a 10 or 11. I ripped the useless things in half in my frustration. 

Ah! There were a whole stack of rubber boots on a high shelf. I pulled 
them down pair after pair but there was nothing bigger than a 9! I tried 
to pull these on but my foot got stuck. I pulled harder on the top of 
the boot and the whole thing just burst apart! My muscles must be 
warming up! 

Just as I was about to give up, I saw something in green rubber behind 
the counter; waders by the look of it. I pulled them out. Size 12! 
Great! at least someone in this place had decent sized feet!. I pulled 
them on quickly and they fitted beautifully over the thick socks and my 
muscular calves and thighs. Time to get out of here before the early 
morning set arrive. That irritating metal bar was still there but I 
could kick harder now ! The heel of the huge boot caught the bar in the 
middle. It bent like rubber and ripped the rest of the door off its 
hinges. I smiled and walked out over the splinters. 


I lurked around the quay for a bit pulling on a warm waterproof jacket 
and some heavy leather workman's gloves which I had found in the shop. 
They were for working with ropes or cable by the look of it - like 
gauntlets. I flexed my powerful fingers inside them imagining a 
particular neck in there - it felt good. 

Time to get out of here. I looked out to sea as I ran along the beach. 
The waders were heavy thick rubber but felt light and snug on my hard 
legs. They were such a good fit on my calves and thighs that they did 
not slow me down at all. They felt more like stockings than chunky 
boots! No coastguard out there.. the explosion must have been muffled 
from the shore and nobody saw anything. 

That was OK by me. If Hubby thinks I'm dead then all the better. I left 
the beach and headed inland. What I needed was a place to hole up while 
I thought of a plan. I did not want to spend the rest of my life in 
prison, so I would have to think twice about ripping him limb from limb, 
however easy and enjoyable that would be for me. 

The waders came in useful as I had to cross a wide stream to get to some 
isolated houses I had seen from the end of the beach. The thigh high 
boots gave me about 5" to spare in the middle of the stream. I had been 
wet once today and I was pleased at that. The first house I got to 
looked promising. It had a view out to sea and was a good half mile from 
the nearest other dwelling. The garden was surrounded by an 8' wire 
fence with barbs on the top. Someone liked their privacy. I somehow knew 
I would not have any problem here. 

The adrenalin was still flowing and I was in a pretty mean mood. I 
gripped the mesh and pulled my hands apart. It was like tearing some 
delicate underwear! I ducked through the hole and strode across the 
lawn. There was a car in the drive! Shit! This time of year these 
holiday bungalows are usually empty. I did not have to wait long to meet 
it's owner. He was youngish, fairly short and lightly built and bounding 
towards me with a baseball bat in his hands. 

He stopped short. 'This is private property!' 

'You here alone?' I asked calmly. 

'Get the fuck out!' he screamed, wielding the bat. 

I walked towards him and saw a flash of fear across his face as he got 
an idea of my size and build. He must have been no more than 5'8" and 
weak looking. I took a few more steps and he started to back off, then 
took a swing at me. I caught the bat in the thick gauntlet and flicked 
my wrist. He flew a short distance and landed on his back. I snapped the 
bat in two over my knee to make a point, and he looked terrified; then I 
flattened his chest under a heavy rubber sole and glared down at him, 
giving him a few seconds to change his attitude. It didn't take long. It 
never does when I'm in a hurry. 

'Please. Don't kill me. Don't hurt me. Please.' 

'Are you here alone?' I repeated. 

'Yes for a week.'  This was good. I bent down and grabbed his belt with 
my right hand, lifting him effortlessly and flinging him over my 
shoulder. The bungalow was large and open plan. I walked in and looked 
around, not bothering to put him down. The rubber soles of my waders 
were squeaking divinely on the polished wood floor. 

I didn't want to hurt the little man, but he could be an inconvenience, 
so I tossed him down onto a sofa and told him a rough version of what 
had happened and that I would be staying here for a while. He still had 
a bit of attitude and began to get abusive again, so I decided it was 
time to do a little adult education - accelerated! 

I gave him a light smack with the back of my glove and he stopped his 
swearing. Tears started to appear in his eyes. 

'COME HERE!' I shouted. He walked over to me and I pushed him to his 
knees. He crashed down hard and yelped. The tears were flooding as he 
looked pathetically up at me. 

I grabbed the back of his head and pushed his face against my right leg. 
I could see his nose squashed against the boot, the rubber stretched 
tight by my bulging steel hard thigh muscles. 

The leather-covered powerful fingers of my left hand forced his mouth 
open and explored inside. This made him almost throw up and stick his 
tongue out, which was what I wanted. My right hand forced his head up 
and down the top of the boot, so that he was in fact licking it. After a 
few repetitions of this he got the idea. He was beginning to be crushed! 
I let his head go, knowing that after some seconds he would lick the 
boot himself, without a single command from me. Then he would cease to 
be a man and be my object. I would not bother to talk to it after that - 
a gesture, or clicking of fingers would be the right thing. 

It started to lick. I pointed further and further down the boot and it 
followed. I lay back on the sofa while it cleaned the huge expanse of 
rubber of both beautiful boots in this way for about an hour. 


The rhythmical movements of its tongue felt delicious through the boots. 
It did not prevent me from thinking of a plan though. At first I thought 
that shit of a husband had been reckless. Surely the wreckage would be 
found and with it, signs of a bomb.. he would be the main suspect: but 
he's not stupid ! A shiver went down my spine when I realised that he 
was famous for the number of enemies he had made in his sometimes shady 
areas of big business, whilst our marital disaster had been kept private 
and secret. The police had been involved in the investigation of several 
death threats over the last 5 years. 

That boat was used for entertaining - he used it as much as I did. All 
he had to say was that the bomb was meant for him and he was mourning 
the loss of his beloved wife... he was a pretty good actor too... The 
shit was safe! He plays golf with the fucking police commissioner! 

I decided to act fast. My trump card was that I was dead. But how do I 
come back to life? And what have I been doing if not plotting my 
husband's death? It was working its way over the toe of the right boot 
and making me as wet as the rubber. It's tongue looked tiny and 
enthusiastic on my huge foot. 

The plan was forming. I was concussed by the explosion but managed to 
make it to this house, where I collapsed and stayed in a semi-daze until 
discovered by the owner. That will be tomorrow. He then phones an 
ambulance and I recover in hospital where they are deciding when to tell 
me about the tragic death, in a car crash, of my husband. They would 
explain to me that an attempt on his life had been made and I was the 
survivor of that. A second attempt had been successful - someone had 
fixed the brakes of the car. The quicker I acted the better it would 
look. 

I sat up and gave it a hard swipe across the face with my open right 
hand. It slid across the floor. 

'WAKE UP!' I smacked it a few more times and then got some water from 
the kitchen and splashed its face. It must have been in a deeper trance 
than I thought. 

It came to.  He opened his eyes and moaned. I picked him up and sat him 
upright on the sofa. The fear came back into his eyes. 

'I'm going to kill you!' I said putting on my meanest expression. I 
shook him to keep him from fainting. I did not have to grip his upper 
arms very hard before his puny muscles were being bruised and his bones 
were in danger of snapping. 

'Please.' He gasped. 

'Do you understand?'  I shook him again. 

'No. No ' He muttered. 

'Unless you do what I say.' 

'Anything.' he whimpered. 'Please don't hurt me' 

I explained the plan to him and also what I would do to him if he did 
not co-operate. His silence would be assured by the fact that he would 
be an accessory to murder. I threw in an offer of a hundred thousand as 
a sweetener. Then I decided to test him, and tossed over the car keys 
from the coffee table. 

'You got a map of the bay area in that car?' 

'Yes' 

'Go get it!' 

If the car started up I would be out there in a second. I pulled on the 
gauntlets as he shuffled out of the door. He might lock himself in and I 
would just have to punch right through the driver's window and tear him 
out of the car. 

'Good boy.' He came back with the map, meek as a lamb. I decided to take 
the risk. The plan was on. 

It was getting dark at about six. The house was 5 miles away. I dressed 
my accomplice in dark blue jeans and his darkest sweatshirt and he had 
some black cowboy boots as well. I blacked our faces like commandos. 
None of my clothes were too light coloured so that was good. We drove 
and parked up some way away from the house. It was a big place up on a 
hill and I could see the front gates and the driveway snaking down to 
the wooden bridge over a small ravine. 

We started over the fields to circle round the back of the house by the 
garages. I grabbed the little man in case he got any ideas and he winced 
as my leather covered steel claw fingers crushed down around his thin 
wrist. It was near pitch black and the guy's night vision was not too 
good. He tripped over every two or three steps and made me angry, so I 
decided it would be quicker to carry him. He yelled as I tossed him over 
my shoulder and I told him to shut up. We were getting close. I scaled 
the small rocky incline up to the flat area at the back gates of the 
property. The rubber soles of the waders gave a good grip on the smooth 
rocks, and I hardly noticed the weight of the little wimp on my 
shoulder. 

The illuminated security console was by the gates and I punched in the 
code. Shit! It had been changed! The top of the high wall was alarmed 
and the only way in was through the car gates or the side one. That was 
a metal bar gate. I went up to it and grabbed two of the vertical bars. 
Then I planted my boot at waist height on the wall and pulled. 

'Huh? You got to be kidding!' said the little guy. 

I hissed at him to shut up. This was going to be a real test of my 
strength. I was bench pressing over 300 lbs yesterday, but I had no idea 
how much these hinges could take. They looked pretty solid. I was really 
straining! My shoulders were nearly tearing the jacket and my right 
thigh and calf felt as if they would split the rubber of the wader any 
minute. The top of the boot was tight as a drum on my thigh. I was about 
to give up when I felt some movement. The little guy gasped. 

The top of the gate was bending towards me. I saw this and got a buzz 
between my legs. This seemed to get some adrenalin flowing and the bars 
just didn't feel so solid any more! I was getting wet! It was the 
thought of my muscles being harder than the steel of this gate! It was 
bending so easily now! I could see the hinges buckling and twisting. 

'Oh shit!' said my little friend. 'Oh shit. I don't believe it!' 

I was almost cumming and just ripped the gate off its hinges! It seemed 
to take no effort at all. I never knew I was that super-strong! I could 
feel my clit pressing into my jeans and I came hard. The guy looked at 
me and I shut him up before he had a chance to ask what was happening. I 
was panting like a dog and moaning a bit! I gripped the gate harder as I 
tensed and writhed with the orgasm and the guy must have been mesmerised 
as he saw the solid metal being crushed and twisted in the grip of those 
huge gauntlets. 

I came back down and threw the gate aside with a flick of my wrist. 

'Get to work!' I said pointing to a red merc sportscar parked outside 
the garages. He never drove anything else and it had his plate. RICH 1. 

I know next to nothing about cars, except which ones I like and how much 
they cost. But the little guy said he used to build hotrods as a kid. 
This would be no problem. 

He was crawling around reaching under the car and swearing for about 
five minutes. I looked over at the house. All the lights were on but 
there did not seem to be any visitors. He always put some terrible 
background music on when people came round. 

'Done.' He said. 'There's brake fluid under there but it won't show.' 

We headed off down to the bridge. I tossed him over my shoulder again 
and felt for his mobile in the pocket of the jacket; then I put him down 
by the bridge and switched it on. 

'Your husband a good driver?' said my little helper. 

'Huh? ' What was he getting at. 

'Huh, yes.. he must be.. ' I said 'He even did some racing.. sportscar 
celebrity stuff. So.. ?' 

The guy shrugged. 'This ain't going to work!' 

I listened. I was half way through dialling and pressed the call cancel. 

'The way you described it, it was like going down the side of a 
mountain, but the drive ain't that steep, and the bridge is not as 
narrow as you said. I would get a shock, sure, but I wouldn't come off 
the bridge. No way! And the road just carries on nice and easy. I reckon 
he'll just coast to a stop about there.' 
 
He pointed and grinned. Seeming to make fun of me. I felt violent! I 
looked at the bridge and saw what he meant. It felt narrow when I drove 
over it because of the 150 foot drop, but it looked like a highway now! 
Shit! 

'Come on.' I said. 'I'm going to try it anyway. We'll wait where you 
said, and if he makes it I'll break his neck myself.' I was being 
stupid. You could leave all sorts of evidence doing that- but I was 
really angry at myself. I walked slowly over the bridge. He followed. To 
vent some frustration, I stamped on one of the wooden beams as we 
crossed and the power in my leg made the bridge shudder. 

'Shit!' I shouted, and ran to the other side, scampering a way down the 
rocks. 

'What are you doing?' 

'Watch!' I said. My right leg was still aching from the gate. So I used 
my left. The supporting beams were about 6" by 6" and I kicked at the 
middle of one. The whole bridge seemed to twang. 

'Shit!' he said, and ran off it. 

I kicked again. The heavy boot smashed into the beam and dislodged it. I 
saw what looked like a smaller cross beam, and punched it with my right 
fist. It snapped. 

'Fucking hell! You're unbelievable!' shouted the little guy. 

I went over to the other support and kicked that. The thick wood split 
like balsa and I let out a squeak of pleasure. I kicked to more beams 
and they snapped like matchsticks. I was getting another orgasm! 

'Hey!' he called. 'That's enough. He'll see that the bridge is gone from 
the house!' 

The guy was right. He was more useful than I could have imagined. The 
bridge looked on the point of collapse. It was sagging and creaking. 
Better get a move on! I dialled and gave the little worm my prepared 
speech with a voice of pure venom. I was coming for him and they would 
be able to take was left of him out in jam jars! He had plenty of 
experience of what I was like when I lost it! I punched right through a 
heavy oak door when he locked himself in the bedroom once, and when he 
rode his motorcycle round my vegetable garden to annoy me, I picked the 
bike up over my head and threw it in the pool. 

The speech worked. The front door opened and he bolted for the car. The 
powerful engine started up and he roared through the gates. 

'Jesus! What did you say to him!' said my crony. 

Two months after the funeral, when all the press interest had died down, 
I decided to have the little guy live with me in the big house.... the 
one with the new metal bridge out front... and the new back gate. 


The End.