Narcolepsy Martin Kane The hazards of unprotected sex with a woman who has a medical condition. --- Author's note: Anyone wishing to contact me may do so via the DtV messageboard for Readers & Writers. I invite anyone to send any comments, good or bad, should they wish to. I'm always interested in what others think of my little tales. Copyright is mine. I'd be flattered if anyone wanted to use this tale elsewhere, but please seek permission first. Needless to say this story is purely a fiction and all characters merely the products of an overwrought imagination I'll abstain from the adult content warning, if you've got this far, you're certain to know what kind of thing to expect anyway. --- "Narco-what?" he asked. "Narcolepsy," she repeated. "It’s a kind of sleeping disorder." "OK, I admit, that wasn’t the answer I was expecting." She sipped delicately, put down the wine, smiled. "No?" "I mean, I’ve heard of taking up bodybuilding because you used to be into athletics as a kid, or because you saw a picture of Rachel or Cory and loved the look. That’s a new one on me though." "Really?" She raised a coy eyebrow, twisting her face into a crooked grin. "You’ve met a few female bodybuilders then?" He blushed but his grin did not falter. "Well, you know, one or two." "Don’t worry, I’m not put off by muscle fetishists. Quite the contrary in fact." "That’s nice to know." Their conversation faltered briefly. The waiter had returned yet again. He refilled their glasses and then retreated. "After all, if not for muscle fetishists, I’d never get laid. Except for the meatheads of course. Trouble with male bodybuilders is that they tend to be vain. Pardon the pun. And I’ve never known a male bodybuilder to date a chick who was bigger than him, so in my case, I’d have to find a guy who was really huge." This was true. She was the most massively built bodybuilder he’d ever seen. She had huge broad shoulders though they were currently hidden beneath a loose falling sweater. Her breasts were big, thrusting the top out, though the specific detail of their delightful shape was hidden. But he couldn’t help but wonder at what it would be like to be smothered between those huge mounds of gorgeous, soft flesh. Her arms he had yet to be treated to but he kept his eyes peeled on the flapping sleeves of wool, in case he caught a tightening flex within. Her jeans were also fairly loose but nothing could disguise the tell-tail bulge of huge, muscled thighs. "You could always dress it down," he suggested helpfully. "Neglect to let the guy know until you’re alone in the bedroom." She gestured to her phenomenal physique. "How can you dress this down? One look at me and you can tell what I am, whatever I’m wearing. I’m not one of these chicks who can pass as slim until they whip their clothes off and flex. I’m six-foot-two and with a physique to match. It’s like I can’t walk through a doorway without turning sideways." He nodded. He had to admit it was true. "Anyway, what’s the poor guy supposed to think?" He grinned at this, knowing exactly what he’d be thinking. "I mean someone who doesn’t fantasize about exactly that happening." She rolled her eyes then grinned at him. "I could always rape him of course." "And have you raped many guys?" he enquired innocently. "A few," she said. "But only if they asked me to nicely." She did the eyebrow thing again, but hid the flirtation behind her wineglass. "But anyway," she dismissed. "Narcolepsy. It’s a disorder where you suddenly fall into a deep sleep at a moment’s notice. I can be walking down the street and then just collapse. I’ll wake up, normally half-hour or so later, and I’ll be fine, but I can’t control it at all." "It must be terrible," he said. "I have heard of that actually. Is it something you’ve always suffered from?" "Yeah. Born with it. There is no cure, I just have to endure it." "How do you cope with something like that?" She shrugged. "Well I always have had to - it’s just normal for me. I’ve got medical tags in case I’m out on my own when it occurs. I’m not allowed to drive of course. But the attacks are fairly few and far between" "Where does bodybuilding come into it then?" "My doctor suggested taking up some form of exercise so I headed down to the local gym. I started working out lightly, then just kind of got hooked to it." She laughed. "And yeah, I saw pictures of Rachel and Cory and fell in love with the look. But the real benefit, it actually helps with the narcolepsy. I tend to have a lot fewer attacks nowadays, compared to before I started weight training." "Not to mention the fact that you look gorgeous." She smiled, sweetly. "How would you know. You’ve been glancing at my arms all evening but I reckon you still can’t see through the sleeve." "Sorry, I didn’t mean to peek." "Would you like me to take it off?" It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "As stupid questions go..." "Well sorry, I don’t tend to do that in public. My exhibitionist streak isn’t particularly strong. I don’t like creating a scene in public." "And if you took the sweater off it’d create a scene?" She glanced around her, then leant in, conspiratorially. "You see those grapefruit on the dessert bar, the giant ones? See how big and round they are?" "Yeah." "Well they’re not all that big. In comparison to my arms, they’re miniature grapefruit." "Really?" She lent back making an arm flex gesture, though ensuring the loose sweater kept her promise hidden. "Really." "Ooo, I’m impressed." She winked at him. "You will be." "So if you don’t want to make a scene in public..." She grinned flirtatiously. Her flat was closest so they went there. He sat in the living room while she fixed a drink. His eyes were skirting the fashionable studio apartment but his mind was racing, trying to figure out how he could persuade her to take that sweater off. He was running though his best chat-up lines, his most persuasive come-ons. She was smart and sophisticated, none of the tacky lines he knew would have any affect on this women except for the negative. However, when she returned, the sweater was gone. She was wearing a flimsy vest. It clung tightly to her powerful chest; her shoulders bulged out like massive barrage balloons. She offered him his drink, pretending not to notice the way his jaw had dropped and the fact that he was staring at her powerful torso as though it were the only thing in the world. When he didn’t take the glass she put it down on the coffee table in front of him. "I hope you don’t mind but I took off the sweater. It was getting so hot in here. Don’t you think it’s hot?" "Hot?" he murmured. "Yes you are." She grinned at him and regarded her upper body. The thin straps of material were stretched taut around her phenomenal shoulders, so huge and broad. Her chest tapered down to a tight waist. The only things that interrupted the perfect V of her torso were her breasts, full and prominent. They jutted forth like soldiers, standing to attention, firm despite their extraordinary size and weight. Then there were her arms. As a fan of bodybuilders, he reserved a special affection for arms, biceps like baseballs, lightly veined and sharply peaked. He now witnessed before him a sight that would change his fantasies forever. She flexed an arm that would put most male bodybuilders to shame. To call her biceps big would be to call Niagara high. Her muscles swelled up into a mammoth mountain, so awesome to behold that he couldn’t speak. He could only stare, open mouthed as she flexed her monster arm, pumping it like a pneumatic cannonball. He gagged. He whined. He mumbled something incoherent, even to himself. She laughed and dropped the mighty arm. His eyes still didn’t leave it, staring just as intently, just as mesmerised. "I’d ask you what you think but your reaction speaks for itself." Then her grin widened. "And even so, the bulge in your trousers is quite telling too." He shook himself from the reverie. His eyes met hers once more. "Shit," was all he could think to say. "I was a big girl," she told him. "When I decided to build my body, I discovered there was plenty of space on it to fit in muscles. Also, I don’t like to do things by halves. If I’m going to build muscle then I’m going to build muscle." "No shit," he murmured. It was a slight improvement. "Take off your shirt," she told him. "Huh?" It didn’t register. "I want to show you something. Don’t worry, this is cool. Give me your shirt." He obeyed, unbuttoning the shirt as quickly as his quivering fingers would allow, and pulling it off his back. Strangely he didn’t feel embarrassed by his own unimpressive body here, as he normally did undressing before muscular women. Perhaps it was the magnitude of the difference between them. Comparison of anyone else to one as superior as her, was pointless and so extreme as to be ludicrous. You might as well compare a housecat to a panther. She took his shirt and eased one side of it onto her massive body. She carefully slid her powerful arm into the long sleeve. She was being careful so as to not flex or tense and muscles, keeping her arm as unpumped as she could manage. Even so, the cotton tube was taut against her skin, her arm filling it to its full stretch. He sat, clutching the seat of the couch, barely able to comprehend what he was seeing. Was she really going to...? Of course she was. His heart thumped with excitement. She stepped close to him. Standing, her outstretched arm was level to his face. He couldn't take his eyes off the unflexed mound of her biceps muscle. He dared not to even blink lest he miss a moment. She made a soft coo and began. It was tentative movement, her forearm lifting so gently and carefully that a minute hand on a clock would move faster. She semi- squeezed, just tensing the muscles a little, making them rise and tighten with an almost imperceptible shift. She raised her forearm a fraction, careful to keep the expansion of her upper arm minuscule. The cotton shifted and tightened. There could be no space for the tiniest insect to crawl between her flesh and that sleeve, it was taut to maximum capacity. She raised the forearm and when it began to tear, she just flexed, hammering her muscles home. The huge biceps mound burst the white cotton like a bullet exploding through a sheet of glass. The material ripped in a thousand jagged scars, shredded in an instant as her muscles swelled into massive glory. He stared - awed, aroused, amazed. She pulled her arm free of the tatters and smiled gently. "Sorry about your shirt." "Price worth paying," he assured her, still completely distracted - dazed, almost. "I thought it might be." She regarded the torn mess and played coy surprise at discovering the other, unexploded sleeve. "You want to see that again?" she asked. "As stupid questions go..." She already had her other arm in the sleeve, and was being careful not to flex and accidentally rip it apart prematurely. She walked right up to him, keeping the sheathed arm down and straight. "Sit back." She climbed onto the couch, sitting astride his lap. He felt her jeans-clad crotch momentarily brush his throbbing erection and gasped. She sat as though kneeling, her thighs sitting on his legs, her peaked calves pressing against the sides of his thighs. He felt the muscles of her thighs harden and relax as she made herself comfortable and shuddered again, knowing that unless he was careful his would orgasm here and now. He tried thinking of something else but that was simply an impossible feat. She sat so close to him that she had to lean back a little to prevent her protuberant breasts from crushing into him. At their current position, should she lean forward onto him, her tits would swamp his face. Not that either would have minded that, but she needed space between them for her arm. She carefully manoeuvred the shirt-clad limb before her, all the time making sure her muscles didn’t flex and split it. She aimed the arm out straight out to the side, the inside of her biceps a mere few inches from the tip of his nose. "Are you ready?" she asked. Ready? He felt like he would pop at any second, her proximity making her all the more intoxicating. He whimpered what he thought was an affirmative. "OK," she told him. "Don’t blink. Three, two, one..." The cotton sleeve exploded. There was no motion of arm, no obvious flexing of biceps, just a squeeze and tense of muscles. Her forearm was still clad but the upper arm had been shredded, flaps of cotton hung off, ripped across lengthways in a dozen zigzag tears, snaking together. Just by tensing her arm, the muscles had ripped the sleeve to tatters. Then she flexed. The peak rose and hardened, bristling with power. He sat and stared, that mountain of muscle, as big as a bowling ball, only inches before him. He brought his hands up and grasped it, sinking his fingers into the impossibly hard flesh. He could not dent her hardness, there was no give in her flesh whatsoever. He wrapped both hands about the peak, easily enough space for both of them, squeezing that mammoth sphere. Then he leant forward, touching his lips to the huge boulder. He kissed and licked her biceps, pressing his teeth against them, awed at just how hard and huge she was. Throughout this she simply sat and watched, holding her arm up and flexed. She was equally amused and aroused by his behaviour but not the least surprised by it. She knew the effect her body had on certain men, knew that the size and density she had developed was beyond the normal and as such, of especial erotic appeal. She stood suddenly, backing off and dropping the extraordinary arm. She gestured for him to stand also, which he did. "Take off your trousers," she told him. He did so. "And the underwear." Again he felt none of the usual embarrassment, happy to be standing naked next to this physical wonder. Without warning, she leant down, shoved her arm between his legs. She flexed, bringing her fist up behind him until her knuckles touched the small of his back. She paused a moment... two. Then she straightened. Before he could reason what was happening, she lifted him, easily heaving him into the air. He was sat astride her mammoth biceps muscle as though that mountainous peak was a camel’s hump and he the rider. She held him aloft with the slightest effort, her strength quite content to hold up his weight. He felt her fist gently press against his spine as he perched, carefully balanced. His hands pressed against the ceiling to aid balance, his neck cricked to allow his head some room. His legs and buttocks were prized apart by his weight on that bulging rock. He could feel its awesome power and density beneath him, as hard as steel. His balls rested against her hot flesh. He was grateful for her accuracy, if she’d caught them, they would undoubtedly have been crushed flat. His erection protruded, heavily throbbing. He groaned, knowing he couldn’t... He gasped as orgasm wracked him and hot semen burbled forth. She caught the wet shot, wrapping a tattered rag about the head of his dick. She watched him shudder and buck, holding him up on her huge arm, her free hand grasping the rag to his pulsing organ. As his heat subsided and his breath returned to normal, she lowered him back to the ground, retracting her mighty arm and gently wiping the spilt fluid from his groin. It was only then that he noticed the rag she used was the tattered remains of his shirt. She had held it ready, knowing what would happen. He couldn’t help but wonder if she performed this little game previously. He didn’t question her however. In fact, the only thing he could think to say to her was- "Holy shit." "The look on your face when you come is amazing," she told him. "It’s like you’re totally lost in the moment, the rest of the world could be collapsing and you wouldn’t even notice." "The world could be collapsing around you and I wouldn’t notice. All I’d see is you." "You’re sweet." They kissed, tenderly, though her arms crept around his chest, her biceps swelling against his ribs. "I’m sorry," he murmured. "Why?" "I didn’t mean to... well, I mean. I don’t suppose you got as much out of that as I did. I don’t normally go off so quick but I couldn’t help it." She smiled - a sweet reassurance. "Oh don’t worry about that, I sure you’ll be back tonight." As if to prove the point she eased her thick thigh against his buzzing cock. It was true, he could already feel it stirring at her touch. Still half-embraced they wandered into the bedroom. There, they lay back on the bed and kissed. Long, deep, soul, kissing. And he was quickly ready again but there was no need for haste. They drank in each other, enjoying the languorous touch and protracted sensuality of unhurried love. A sweet kiss became foreplay. Time, sense and sweat melded into a heady, muddled knot of tongues and flesh. She climbed on top, feeling him inside her, gasping as she ached against him. She sat up and rocked, rowing him, easing him further inside her with each shuddering spasm. He lay back in the bed, unable to believe what was happening, complete lost in the intensity of it. He looked up at her, watching her incredible body gently working, feeling her muscles above him, against him, encompassing him. And sweetness and leisure turned up the pace as heat and urgency enflamed them. Her body - hard and rippling; bristling and bulging - tensed and flexed its rhythm against him. He watched her, watched her tight face, exquisite in sweated concentration, lost in her own sensations, eyes scrunched and strained. Her breasts, huge and protruding, solid enough to disregard gravity as she leant back against him, but still juddering alluringly with each stutter and jerk of her body. They eclipsed him with their tremendous size, her face lost for the moments her head wasn’t dead centre of the twin mountain peaks. Her muscles ripped and cascaded, her belly fluttering as she worked them both ever closer to an inevitable climax. He wanted to say something to her, something romantic. But he couldn’t speak. His voice was trapped somewhere in his stomach, his body far too preoccupied with the sensation he was drowning in. This was pure ecstasy. Sex had never been this good before. He could never have imagined sex begin this good. He’d never wanted an average woman again after he’d first been with female bodybuilder. Well this revelation was similar. Even being with a bodybuilder was nothing akin to what he felt with this woman here and now. His head was close to bursting and just when he thought he couldn’t take any more... She was climaxing, he could see it in her eyes. Her body was bucking violently, as if the spasms in her cunt were so powerful they shook her whole being. Her face was tight and she mouthed something incoherent. Then every muscle in her body was hard and tense and squeezing. Though it felt good - incredible - it still hurt, badly. It halted his orgasm, though it was only a temporary fix. It felt like his body would be crushed, that she would unwittingly squeeze too hard, lost in the pleasure, and squish him in her ecstasy. But she gasped and released. He saw her come down, her body relaxing, her muscles unclamping, her face sigh. Then he saw her eyes. She opened them and saw him, just for a split second, registered him just before the attack took her. Her eyes rolled up and she was instantly asleep. Her body crumpled in slow motion, heaping down upon him. She collapsed upon him, her weight pressing him down into the heavy bed. Her pendulous breasts sank either side of his head, encasing him in the cushions of her flesh. Her shoulders fell heavy against the pillow, her massive arms to her sides, her face down onto the top of her mattress. Beneath her, he was trapped. His arms could reach out to the side but there was no way he could shift her weight. Her breasts squashed his face tight against the plate of her chest, her flesh cutting off all possible hope of oxygen. He tried to lift her, pushing up against her ribs. Her size and the massive weight of her muscular build made it impossible. His lungs ached and panic was beginning to constrict him. He grabbed at her breasts trying to allow himself enough space to turn his face to the sweet air he had always taken so for granted. But the weight and size of her pinned her body down too tight for him to move her at all. His flailing fists pounded her back and buttocks, trying in vain to waken her. It was hopeless. She was heavily asleep and there was nothing he could do. And as his body became more numb, pinpricks of light began to dance in his blackened vision. His lungs ceased to pain him, though he was acutely aware of their nagging discomfort. He realised that he was still inside her, that when she had collapsed, he'd stayed thrusted within her and had held his erection. As dreamy obscurity overcame him, the last sensation he felt was a gorgeous, warm and climactic release. She woke, as ever, a half-hour or so after the attack. Her body ached but felt surprisingly warm and satisfied. Then she realised why. She carefully extricated herself from the man and took a tissue from her bedside to wipe clean his last issuance and another for the still wet saliva from between her tits. It was a wearied sigh rather than any panic or horror. "Oh God, not again." She reached for the phone. It was going to be another long night.