A Real Fantasy
by Marknew   marknew742@aol.com 
Like all of us, John has a way of dealing with the disconnect between his fantasies and reality.  Reality gets in the way.


1 -- August -- Year 1

John's eyes were tightly closed. Even so, in his head, he could clearly see
the huge, dominant muscles of his girlfriend Stacy looming over him. How did
she ever get so large, so strong? He had always been a jock and considered
himself a strong man, yet compared to her he was such a weakling. Her muscles
were so big and hard, bulging out of her arms even when she was completely
relaxed. Just the idea of her strength, her powerful body, thrilled him to his
core. Still, he struggled with her, trying to free even one hand from her iron
grip. His mind's eye could see her grinning lazily, hardly even exerting
herself, while her arousal grew as she wrapped her legs around him, crushing
him against her, pushing her crotch against him ever more tightly to stimulate
herself. Her passion excited him even though the pressure was slightly
uncomfortable, even painful. But he didn't dare protest or struggle too much.
That would just excite her even more, and, as ever, the hotter she was, the
harder she pressed.

She made a happy grunt. "That's right, little boy. You're not going anywhere.
You just keep yourself good and hard for me. As if you could do anything
else!" She giggled and then laughed.

"Please, Stacy! You're being so rough with me!" he pleaded. He was sure she
was still using just a fraction of her strength. He had never actually seen
her tax her muscles as hard as she could, and the image of her muscles
straining to their utmost almost sent him over the edge. He struggled to keep
control. "Why do you have to hold me so tightly?"

"Why? Because I can! Because being a girl with such super-muscles is thrilling
to me too!" She gasped. "Oh, John! Yes! YES!! UMMM, just, uh, knowing I could
... make you do ANYTHING I, uh, WANTED you to makes me ... so hot!!"

John could feel her grip on his hands loosening as her pussy clenched his dick
tighter. She was coming. Her contractions squeezed him again and again.
"Stacy!" he cried. When she came all her muscles simply exploded in size. She
could rip him apart if she wasn't careful. If he was unlucky she would --

"Oh John! Sorry! I can't ..." She let go and slumped against him.

"But Stacy!"

"I just can't, John. I get too tired!" She wrapped her arms around him and
kissed him. "Oh John, I really do love you! You DO love me, don't you? The
real me?"

He opened his eyes. It was she who was pleading now. He put his arms around
her. "Of course I do."

"John, you know I'd do ANYTHING for you, don't you?" She moved her head down
to his cock and began sucking it, her lips squeezing him and then her head
started moving up and down, faster and faster. She was a lovely, sexy woman,
with shining black hair, a large round bosom which bounced as she moved and a
lovely firm ass. And her arms ... her thin arms with no sign of muscle. Well,
hardly any at all. He tried again to imagine her as he just had, but the spell
was broken. Even so, she was so good at giving head it took only another
twenty seconds before he came into her mouth. She swallowed every drop, then
crawled up to lie next to him, her head on his shoulder, her eyes looking
lovingly into his. "My poor darling. You're so strong yourself. It's so funny
that you fantasize about a woman being even stronger than you are."

"Yeah, well, I know it's kind of weird."

"Don't be like that. I don't mind, really. I'd do anything to make you happy,
darling. Anything in my power. It's just hard sometimes to be rough with you.
I have to try so hard." She quickly added, but it's really fun too. I like
pretending with you." She kissed his shoulder and then planted kisses all the
way up to his mouth and then down his arm. "But just LOOK at this big muscle
YOU have. And you really like to imagine ME with even BIGGER ones?!" She
screwed up her face. She didn't really believe or understand it.

He shrugged. "It's just a fantasy, I guess. A silly fantasy." He pulled her
onto him and mouthed her breasts, playing with them.

She laughed. "Ooooh, they're so sensitive! You're going to make me horny all
over again!" For a moment she looked at him longingly. "But I can't! I have to
go meet Jeannie!"

"That's ok. I guess I should get up too. I have to finish this proposal for a
client." Still holding her he lifted them both out of bed and stood up,
holding her so that her head was higher than his.

"See! You really do like being strong, don't you? You like being able to carry
me around like that." Now she curled her body against him, dropping her head
back onto his shoulder. "I know I like it. I love you, John. And I really love
your body. I really, really do." He let her slip down a bit and tickle his
cock, which was already getting hard again. "And I love 'little' John too!"
She held him, hugging him as tightly as her strength allowed, which wasn't
that much, although he appreciated the thought. "Ooooh, you!" she said and
then slipped out of his hands and into the bathroom for a quick shower.

2

John sighed. He had showered but hadn't bothered to put on anything more than
his shorts. He sat down at his computer and worked through the MeGaCo
presentation he had scheduled later in the week. Although he could fiddle with
it for hours the truth was it already was pretty good. He sold this particular
client several jobs before and his credibility was high. The only issue was
the budget. He had shaved as many costs as he could, but was he still pitching
it too high? He looked over his presentation and sighed, knowing that to close
the deal he would have to make more concessions. But he had made enough for
now. He opened his browser and checked his stocks. That French biotech stock
was still rocketing! Good. He wished he'd bought more.

Then his fingers guided the mouse to his special folder, buried deep in the
computer section -- where Stacy never strayed. He scanned the list of sites:
Pictures, stories, videos, chat, live sessions. What would it be? He hadn't
checked into Lingster's blog lately, but a quick scan revealed that neither
had Lingster. There was nothing new on Zawaa's latest group, and he would be
lucky to be able to download anything from there anyway, with the ever
shrinking caps Yahoo was placing on bandwidth usage. He switched to the pay
sites and sighed happily. That Cindy Phillips on Fistman was so cute, but she
had real muscles too. Not just 'fitness' muscles but arms with real bulges,
round muscles that looked down menacingly from above the plane of the rest of
her upper arms, instead of rising in lines along them. Oh there was nothing
'wrong' with fitness muscles. But nothing particularly exciting either. He
quickly saved the pictures to his hard drive, created a slide show and then
flipped through them. Beautiful! If only Stacy were that muscular. But no,
even that wouldn't satisfy him. He would want her even bigger, even stronger.
It was an impossible fantasy, but one that he couldn't -- no, wouldn't -- give
up. His cock nodded in agreement.

3

The next evening Stacy came home almost two hours later than usual. John had
been busy with his final rehearsal for the presentation -- only occasionally
interrupting his work with some recreational surfing -- so the truth was he
didn't mind that much. Her hours as a secretary were usually much shorter than
his, leaving her time for shopping and with her friends without interfering
with his work and some free time. But with his increasingly frequent forays
deep into Diana's site, his sexual tension was building. Where was she?! He
was about to snap at her for not calling when he noticed her red face and her
heavy lidded eyes. "Stacy, are you all right?" he asked instead.

She nodded and smiled, then slumped onto the couch. "I am so beat!"

"You're so late! You could have called," he said, more gently than he would
have, feeling a bit sorry for her, and not wanting to spoil the chance for
some fun later.

"I know, but once I started -- I was at the gym. Your gym. I joined today.
They had a special -- six months for the price of three -- and they gave me
one of those personal assessments. It took so long! And then he had to show me
how to use everything and how much weight to use. I can't believe he made me
work so hard on my first day." She closed her eyes and leaned back on the
cushion, but a wave of pain crossed her face and she straightened slightly.
"That Gustaf -- he's a real slave driver! But I guess it's good for me."

"You got Gustaf? He's a real prick, you know. I bet he had his hands all over
you."

Stacy blushed. "Well, uh, yeah. He said he had to show me how to, you know,
lift, and he couldn't tell if I was doing it right without, uh, feeling how my
muscles moved." She was blushing very red now. "He said he was, you know, a
professional, like a doctor," she added more quietly, "and that I shouldn't
take it the wrong way." John was boiling mad. Stacy burst into tears. "Don't
be angry with me. I was doing it all for you, you know? I would do anything to
be attractive to you."

How could John stay angry? "But Stacy," he started, "I could have shown you
the machines, the techniques. I know as much as -- more than Gustaf."

Stacy nodded. "I know you do, darling. Of course you do. But they were running
a special today, and I'd woken up today and decided THIS would be the day. I
didn't want to wait even a moment so that I wouldn't change my mind. I want to
make my body into exactly what you think is beautiful. So we won't have to
pretend. So you won't have to close your eyes when we make love ... and
imagine somebody else with bigger muscles than I have." She sniffed, trying to
hold her tears back.

"Stacy!"

"Ssshh! I know you do it. Don't apologize, John. It ... makes it worse." She
sniffed back her tears. "I know you love me. I know you have this ...
interest. This ... this is the way I'm dealing with it. I'm being positive,
right? I know I'm not a superjock or anything, but I can work hard. I can get
stronger I can have muscles too. Anyone can if they try hard enough, right?
And I'll try as hard as I have to. THAT's how much I love you!"

John took her in his arms and held her. She leaned on him and kissed him, her
tears wetting his cheek, but when he started to take things further she pulled
back. "I ... I think I'm still a little too sore, honey. Maybe tomorrow I'll
feel better." She looked up at him apologetically and then walked carefully
upstairs. John could hear water running for her bath and when he knew she had
settled into it he shut the door and returned to his computer. Stacy would be
in a long time. He hadn't read The Librarian lately. (When would the Power
Company come out with their new "epic" story anyway?) It was a long story and
a lot to read before he'd get to his favorite scene, the one where the guy who
has taken the muscle-growing drug is tied up by his sister, and by swallowing
his cum, she and her friends get many times the benefit he does. He never
failed to get off on that one, and from the way Stacy looked he knew he'd have
plenty of time.

4 -- February -- Year 2

Unlike most people taking advantage of discounted gym memberships, Stacy stuck
to her new regime. In fact, she was unusual in her discipline and enthusiasm,
her determination to do each exercise in the right way and neither to increase
weights too rapidly nor overdo her repetitions -- the typical mistakes made by
most of those who failed to drop out. Steadily, Stacy began to sculpt her
body. Her already trim waist shrank and became firmer, with the outlines of
muscle starting to show. Her slender arms lost their softness. If anything,
her forearms and upper arms looked smaller as layers of normal feminine fat
melted away, but when she moved them, to gesture in conversation or to fix her
hair, the workings of her strengthening muscles were visible beneath and the
slight, but budding curves of new biceps peeked out upwards.

Stacy felt good too. After her body became accustomed to the routine her
energy levels started to increase. Her need for sleep surprisingly lessened.
For years she had needed eight and a half, sometimes nine hours. John often
had an extra hour on either end of the night to watch television or surf the
internet while she dozed. Now she could stay up as late as he and when she
felt him stir in the early morning, as often as not she could rouse herself,
roll toward him and hang a leg over his, saying "Just a sec, honey. Instead of
that computer, I got a better idea." And then they would make love. His hard
body felt so good for her. Her appetite for sex and particularly for him was
growing as her conditioning improved.

John seemed to approve of her work. Several times they would go to the gym
together and he always had pointers for her about improving her form. His
being there also motivated her to do just a little bit more. The results of
her training were so obvious already. It was just a matter of time before she
might even have real biceps, a real "six-pack," and a back that would show
muscle instead of just smooth soft skin. Already he seemed impressed by how
much she was lifting, how quickly she was gaining strength and muscle and how
hard she worked.

Yet ... yet ... he STILL closed his eyes when they made love. He still wanted
her to pretend she was dominating him with her strength. She didn't mind it
THAT much. He was kind and steady and was an exciting and thoughtful lover. He
was consistently with her, and after all, he had an excellent job and would,
if she played her cards right, someday be an excellent husband and father.
Besides, with her new strength the games he wanted to play were becoming
easier for her to do. Still, she wondered why it was still necessary to play
them. She had some muscles now. They were getting harder, and they were
growing. Why wasn't that ENOUGH for him? Men could be so funny. Everyone
thought women were so mysterious, so illogical, but it was really men you
could never really figure out, never REALLY understand. Why did he want the
fantasy when the reality was right there for him? And the real girl loved him
SO much. Why didn't he get it?

So many exciting things were happening for her. At work, she'd gotten a
transfer to the IT department. It was a bit of a promotion; she would be
working for a VP there who was a very impressive female executive, as well as
the three directors reporting to the VP, and she'd be getting new computer
training so that she would understand more of what the department did. John
always got annoyed at her for having to answer basic questions on how to do
things on his home computer; soon she would know enough that she wouldn't have
to ask him.

All Stacy's friends and everything she read in magazines told her that people
didn't really change for the sake of their relationships. Well, she was going
to prove them wrong! She knew she had a good man. She thought that he loved
her, that he really loved her. It was up to her to prove to him that she was
the girl of his dreams. And she felt that she was already almost there! She
just hoped John would notice all these changes and appreciate how much effort
she was making for him.

John did notice. He was flattered that Stacy took his needs so seriously, but
that fact also made him more than a little worried. It was not only the
commitment she was bringing to their relationship. A woman's commitment could
be a dangerous thing. But also, in part, he had always seen the gym as time
for himself. Now she spent more time there than he did, and some people there
were starting to refer to him as Stacy's boyfriend, instead of the other way
around. Imagine! He was getting kidded too. Gustaf joked at least once a week
that if John didn't work twice as hard, Stacy would end up being the one with
the bigger muscles! At his quarterly fitness assessment one of the other
trainers showed him his rate of improvement and, to motivate him, plotted
Stacy's against his, showing how sometime in late 2004 she would surpass him.
When John got angry, the trainer backed off, saying it was just a joke. Well
of course it was. Stacy's improvement was typical for someone who had never
done any training before. Her rate of improvement would level off soon enough,
and then, like most females, she would gain strength and muscle more slowly
than a male, especially one with John's genetic gifts.

Not that John objected to Stacy's gym work. How could he, with the fantasy
games he played with her? And he did still enjoy them. She was the first girl
he'd dated that he had told about his fantasies, perhaps because she was just
a secretary and he didn't find her the least bit threatening. With her added
strength and conditioning she was getting better at playing them too. But her
developing real muscle now was changing the dynamic between into something he
no longer completely controlled and, in a way, feeling her real muscles, small
as they were, somehow intruded on the fantasy images he kept in his mind,
almost as though her reality was starting to overpower his fantasy. In a funny
way that he neither fully understood or in truth, was even aware of, that felt
like a threat. Not that he would ever admit that as a possibility, even to
himself.

After all, the very idea that Stacy could threaten him, or even challenge him,
was absurd. He was a successful consultant, earning several hundred thousand a
year, while she was just a secretary, even with this new promotion she was so
excited about. And what was the big deal? Didn't she understand that IT was a
backwater in just about every company, and that, knowing nothing about the
area, she could never expect to be promoted in that department? And
physically, for all the pretending, he knew that he was and always would be
far, far stronger than she. He has been working out since high school, with
some breaks, true, during busy times at school or work, and then for one
five-month period when he was so besotted with a girl at college that he could
barely stand to separate from her for classes, much less for sessions on the
weight machines. But other than that he had been a regular for over ten years
and it showed. Stacy had a long way to go before she could even be considered
a bodybuilder, even as a lightweight, and she would never be able to challenge
him in strength. So really, there was nothing for him to worry about.

Nothing at all.

5 -- May -- Year 2

John was in the second week on a project in Little Rock for a certain retail
business headquartered in the State. He had to hand it to them. They knew how
to negotiate with their suppliers. His profit on this job would hardly justify
his time. Still, the chance for repeat business and references might make it
worthwhile. Might. With the way they were forcing him to reveal his
"proprietary techniques" as part of the evaluation -- like they were draining
his skills away -- he doubted he would have much left to sell them.

Already the project's cost reimbursement budget had forced him out of the
downtown Holiday Inn where he had wanted to stay and into the Bayonet, a no
frills tourist motor hotel without a gym and with nothing to do nearby,
leaving him to watch tired porn movies and surf the internet. After three
weeks of a diet of cheap sandwiches, donuts, cokes and beer, he could feel his
body turning to mush. Stacy was never home when he called in the evening. He
could guess that with him away she was spending her free time with her
friends. Or shopping. Or perhaps the gym. She was becoming quite a little
hardbody. John sighed. Didn't she understand that she would just never have
the massive muscle he dreamed about? Making herself thin and wiry just
wouldn't do it for him.

It was out of desperation that John dragged himself to a bar he had noticed
driving to and from his client's offices. At least he could watch the playoffs
with some company, even if they rooted for the wrong teams. He'd had three
beers and a steak at the bar and was tightly focused on the TV screen at his
left when he got a feeling that someone was eyeing him. Not sure if it was a
Mavericks supporter angry about John's rooting for the Spurs he turned around
slowly, only to see a busty blond with big hair smiling at him and looking him
straight in the eye. He hesitated for half a second and then, after a quick
glance told him what he needed to know, he returned the look.

"Can I buy you another, um"

"Mae-Lynn, and yes you may," she answered in a sultry voice. She brushed the
hair from her face and leaned toward him just a bit. "And you are"

"John Rose" he said, holding her eyes.

She smiled more broadly. "Why, isn't that a sweet name."

John nodded agreeably and ordered another round for each of them. She
certainly had a pretty smile and great bust although he couldn't see her legs
under the bar. "So, are you from around here?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I'm down here with Momma for my big sister Lorna's
graduation. But she's spending most of her time with her friends, which leaves
me pretty free. Actually," she winked, "that's kind of how I planned it.
Anything to get out of Momma's house for awhile. Wish I'd been as smart as my
sister and gone away to college. And what are you here for? You one of those
MeGaCo millionaires? Or are you a government fella?"

"I wish. No, I'm down here from New York, doing some work for MeGaCo. I'm an
independent consultant. I --"

She waved her hand. "Oh don't tell me. It won't mean anything to me, I can
guarantee that! But I can tell from looking at you that whatever you do you do
real good."

The music in the next room started up. "Hey, Mae-Lynn, do you dance?"

She grinned. "I was wondering if you were going to ask." He stood up and she
slid off the stool. She was nearly as tall as he was, with big bones and long,
thick legs to go with her breasts. She leaned on him and he almost stumbled,
not expecting her weight, but then held her up firmly. "Oooh, you ARE a strong
one," she said, happily. "I do like big men, 'cause it takes a big man to hold
on to Mae-Lynn." He started moving toward the room with the music but she
wasn't walking and he stopped short, feeling her stubborn solidity. "You
know," she said, whispering in his ear, "we don't HAVE to dance in THERE."

John felt a shiver of desire pass through him. Her round hip was pushing into
his groin as she swiveled her hip gently. "My hotel room's not much, but it's
close," he said.

"Hey, close is close enough for me, John Rose," she replied, putting her arm
around his shoulder. He put a twenty on the bar and they left together. It was
just five minutes to his hotel, and in three more minutes they were in his
room. She looked around, not impressed by the room.

John felt a little embarrassed. "I know. I know. I started out at the Holiday
Inn, but MeGaCo's pretty cheap with its reimbursements."

Mae-Lynn sat on the bed and faced him. "The Holiday Inn? I'd love to stay
there. Just once."

John smiled at her eagerness. She was pretty easy to impress. "Well, I guess I
could move back there. It's not THAT expensive."

Mae-Lynn's eyebrows rose in interest. "A friend of mine said the sheets there
are SO soft. And they give away the nicest shampoos and things." She looked
down. "Not that that sort of thing interests a man much," she said, pulling
off her blouse and undoing her bra. She watched John's eyes drop down and she
grinned. "I guess you've made love to a whole lot big girls, John Rose?"

"Well, I have to say, you're just about the biggest," he said, enjoying the
sight of her breasts springing free.

"They're 40 double-dees, in case you were going to ask. And, just so you know,
I'm six feet and half an inch, a hundred eighty-five pounds. I'm not shy about
my size." John's eyes strayed from her breasts to her arms. "Yeah, I'm big
there too. I hope you don't mind, but I'm one of those girls with muscles too,
I guess. I don't work on 'em. They just grew that way." She laughed awkwardly,
then grabbed John and pulled him onto the bed and jumped on top. "See? Pretty
strong for a girl." She laughed loudly, as John tried to get her off. She had
him in a good hold, but he held her arms and managed to turn the tables and
get on top of her while she struggled a little. "Ooooh, yeah, I do like it a
little rough!" she whooped. "I just KNEW you were strong! Stronger even than
little me!" She twisted her legs around his, and suddenly his lower body was
trapped. As hard as he strained he couldn't move his legs. "Yeah! Got you
going, didn't I? That little trick works every time, even on a big man like
you!" she cried out happily, squeezing his ass now. A few quick moves and he
was inside her. "Got you again!" she said, but now it was as much of a moan of
pleasure as one of triumph.

He grunted back. They were both in the heat of passion now, each gripping at
the other with fevered intensity. John held back a little at first, but it was
clear she wanted him to go at her harder and soon he let go, banging away
deeper and deeper as she whooped louder and louder. Everyone in the hotel must
have heard them and the shaking of the bed, but what did it matter out in the
middle of Little Rock? She was pushing so hard that she was lifting him clear
off the bed. Man, she was great! She was coming, the spasms rocking her body,
but he was holding out for more. He let her have her fun, and then he started
up again.

She moaned, "Oh you beautiful Rose! You've got more for me, don't you? Oh my
man! What a man!" and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him to her,
almost crushing the breath out of him. But the slight pain only excited him
more. This was the real thing, not just a fantasy. He held her shoulders,
feeling her long, hard trapezious muscles, and then dropped his hands to her
biceps. Even in her arousal she hesitated for a moment, unsure why he was
touching them. "You all right?" she asked, suddenly sounding insecure.

He'd gone this far. He wasn't going to stop. "Let me feel them," he croaked.
"Let me feel them when you flex."

"You want to feel my muscles?" she asked, amazed. Her pelvis stopped its
rocking motion.

"Yes I do," he replied, his heart pounding, his hips continuing to thrust into
her. "Come on, Mae-Lynn. Let me feel what you've got!"

"Well?" she said, unsure, and then it started to click. "Well! You mean, you
LIKE my MUSCLES?" she said, uncomprehendingly, but starting to rock him again.

He looked her in the eyes and then at the large masses of muscle he was
holding. "Oh, I do. I really do. If you don't mind."

He felt a charge go through her body like a shock as her legs clutched him
ferociously. "Oh, no! Not at ALL, Johnny Rose!" she bellowed and clenched her
fists and tightened her biceps as hard as she could. "How's this? How're THESE
muscles?!!" They popped up under his hands, hardening into solid balls. The
heads of her biceps pushed against his palms and his fingers carressed them,
cupping around their curves, letting their hard round shape impress themselves
into his hands. "Oh god! Oh you beautiful man! Oh god!" she cried out. She was
crying now. Crying, clutching him in her snatch, pumping her arms and pressing
him to her, moaning in pleasure and then coming again. "Oh god! Now I wish
they were bigger, twice as big if that's what you want. Oh, you like my
muscles! You like them!" she yelled, sobbing and coming. "Oh give it to me!
Give it ALL to me!"

She was an animal beneath him, and he held on for the best ride of his life.
He let himself go completely, pistoning into her with pure, selfish abandon as
he squeezed her hard biceps and then let it all go, his passion overflowing
into her and then, and then, as it slowly ebbed, he sank onto her chest,
letting her close her muscled arms around him and repeat, "Oh John! Oh John!
Oh John!" again and again like an anthem or a prayer.

6

The next evening he met Mae-Lynn after work. It was still light and the air
was warm. They started their evening strolling up the river. She wore a
sleeveless top and tiny shorts, leaving her rounded biceps fully exposed and
little else to the imagination, and as soon as they left the urban area they
were kissing furiously. John was burning with desire for her, she for him, and
they could barely tear themselves away from each other. Only the occasional
clucks of disapproval of others walking along the path forced them to stop for
air.

"Maybe, Mae-Lynn," John panted, "maybe we should just go back to the Holiday
Inn and --

"Oh I know," Mae-Lynn gasped, "I want you so much. But I really wanted to take
you to see the Travelers play. It's great [pant] baseball, even though they're
[pant] minor league. I'm a real big fan, you know, and --

"Yeah," he chimed in, "a BIG fan," and grabbed her ass to pull her closer.

"Oh John!" she gasped. "You KNOW it!" She was breathing heavily. "I want you
right NOW!" she moaned. "I want you to kiss every INCH of my big, strong body,
lick every MUSCLE I have while I make them big and hard for you." She flexed
her biceps and John leaned down and mashed his lips against them. "Oh god! I
feel like I'm coming already!" she squealed, pushing against him and almost
knocking him down. They looked at each, laughed and said "Hotel!" in unison.

The next three nights were the same, until John couldn't stretch out the
assignment any longer. Mae-Lynn came with him to the airport and clutched him
tearfully at the gate. "I don't think I can let you go!" she cried.

John sighed. He had told her about Stacy after their second night together,
and Mae-Lynn had laughed in disbelief that he was living with a girlfriend who
was small-boned, barely 5'4" and even after months of weight training had
nowhere near the muscle Mae-Lynn had. Now she said, "You're telling me that
this LITTLE girl is going to keep you satisfied? After you've had ME?"

"I don't know. I really don't know." Actually John didn't know. He'd never had
such mind-blowingly incredible sex as with Mae-Lynn. But she was a loud
country girl, with no experience beyond her small town. He couldn't imagine
her in New York City or with any of his friends. And he could never live in a
place like Little Rock, much less whatever little hole-in-the-wall she came
from.

"Well, you know what we've had together, and just let me leave you with one
little thought, my darling Rose. You keep your picture of me in your head, how
I am now, and then you just think of how I'm gonna look after I start working
out, 'cause I'm going to get bigger and bigger, and stronger and stronger,
just for you Johnny, until I'm so big 'n strong I can just breathe in and suck
you right out of New York and bring you back to me where you belong. You hear
me? And you put that picture of me, all grown bigger and stronger, in your
mind next to your little Stacy-poo and you decide what you want!" And with
that she picked him up in a cradle-hold, to the titters of the other boarding
passengers, and lifted him to her lips to kiss him good-bye.

7

Although she knew it was an essential part of John's consulting work, Stacy
hated when he traveled. He wasn't very good at talking on the telephone,
except for business, and he never even emailed her. It wasn't that she was
that worried about what he was up to, all by himself. He always worked so
hard, especially when he was away, and if he wasn't working he spent his time
working out or watching sports. It was just the feeling of losing their daily
connection. She didn't even like to be in the apartment alone when she knew he
wasn't coming home. It didn't really feel right for her to be there, maybe
because even though he'd let her add a few feminine touches to make herself
comfortable there, he was still the owner and to her it still felt as though
it was his. So when he was away she usually just tried to keep herself busy
and stay with friends at night. In a way, it was like going back to being a
teenager and having pyjama parties all the time, although admittedly she was
not being as much fun now as she had been. After all, she was learning a new
job and could not afford to stay up too late.

Her friends were mostly supportive of her new discipline and a little bit
jealous at the results. They had all tried dieting at various times, some more
successfully than others, but Stacy was being so good about it! Stacy tried to
explain that the exercise was a lot easier to keep up than a diet. She was
eating as much as before -- more in fact, but she didn't want to brag. It was
the work at the gym that made all the difference. And once she had gotten used
to it, it actually made her feel good. She had gotten Carli and Monica to join
up at the gym too -- it gave her a bonus discount, which really came in handy.
And now that she was spending so much time at the gym, she'd made new friends
there who understood her new interests. With their encouragement and all her
free time, she was ending up working out twice as much as usual. She had gone
down two dress sizes now, and was a little perturbed that she'd lost half a
cup size, but her pecs were so much firmer that with the right kind of top her
bust looked even better than before, higher and, well, perkier. At least her
friends thought so. She wondered how John would react to all the changes when
he finally came back.

It was definitely exciting seeing her body change. It was different from when
she was becoming a woman, when her breasts were growing so quickly that for
awhile it seemed as though she needed a new bra every month. A lot of the
times she was feeling sick or awkward and when she was a teenager her periods
were so painful. Also, then it was something that was happening to her. Now it
felt like she was the one in control. She making her own body, through her own
efforts. And instead of feeling awkward and sick, she felt stronger,
healthier. It was like magic, in a way, but she was the magician.

The one thing that bothered her, though, was that of all of her friends,
Jeannie, her oldest and best friend in New York, was the most skeptical about
her campaign. Jeannie never exercised at all and ate whatever she wanted, yet
she always stayed slender and shapely, with perfect skin too. Given that,
Stacy could sort of understand why Jeannie didn't put much stock in exercise
and thought it was a waste of time. But Stacy wasn't like Jeannie. She tried
to explain why she was working so hard, what it meant to her to be improving
her body and fulfilling John's fantasy, but she just didn't seem to be able to
make her friend understand.

The night before John ended his trip Stacy was staying with Jeannie. The two
of them had just eaten and were now curled up on Jeannie's bed. talking while
they half-watched an episode of "Sex and the City" and half-looked at Stacy's
latest fitness progress report. They watched intently as the four friends
discussed Carrie's latest falling out with "Mr. Big." Stacy chipped in with
her own observations and then Jeannie picked up the progress report, sighed
and said, "Really, Stacy. If you really like exercising then you should go
ahead and do it, but you shouldn't expect John to love you more for it. Men
aren't like that. Does Big suddenly commit to Carrie when she tries to change
to please him?"

"You're wrong, Jeannie. I mean, you should see how much this muscle thing
means to John. He told me I'm the first girl he's ever confessed his interest
to. That's got to mean something. And ... and I think it's GOOD that he likes
muscles on a girl. I mean, it's better than just liking breasts, you know?"
Jeannie made a little "mmm, hmm" and looked at her, waiting. "I mean, I think
it's very modern. Very feminist in a way. It means he accepts the idea that
women are equal, that they can have power too! That we're not just for making
babies and feeding them."

Jeannie cocked her head. "You think John's a feminist? That he wants YOU to
have power? I won't even GO there!" Stacy frowned. "Hey, You know I like John.
I just don't want you to be disappointed or get hurt."

"He's not going to --

"Stacy, come on, I'm only being honest with you. I'm just saying, be
realistic. I've seen John look at me when I'm wearing my little halter top.
And I can tell you he's not looking at MY muscles!"

"But --

"And his thing about female muscle, don't you think it's really just another
kind of object for him to fixate on? It's not like he's connecting with you
more as a person because you have muscles or putting you in the driver's seat.
He still wants to be the boss. He decides on the fantasy, right? It still
seems to me like it's just another kind of objectifying fantasy. And you said
yourself he still keeps his eyes closed when you make love, that he still
wants to imagine you're being much more muscular than you are, than you'll
ever be." At that, Jeannie laughed and got a faraway look in her eyes.

"What's so funny?" Stacy asked, feeling downcast and a little hurt.

"I don't know. I was just thinking, uh, wondering, how he'd feel if you really
were as strong as he fantasizes you to be."

Stacy looked glum. "Well, you and I know that's impossible. He told me once
how big he liked to imagine me. No woman could EVER be THAT big. At least, no
one I know and certainly not me!"

Jeannie smiled. "Exactly!" she said and then she shrugged. "Well, think about
it this idea. I mean, if he really was serious about making his fantasy a
reality, then I suppose you could keep working out like you are, and he could
completely stop exercising and also go on some kind of low protein diet so
that he loses a lot of his muscle tone and even some muscle. Eventually you
would be much stronger than he was, right? Now, be honest with me, do you
think he'd like that, or not?"

Stacy screwed up her face. "No way!" Then she giggled. "Just imagine, me being
as strong as I am now, or even stronger, and him being like I was!" She
thought a moment and then sighed. "Honestly, I think he'd hate it. He'd hate
being inferior to me in ANY way! I guess it would probably turn him on. But
he'd never WANT to do it."

"No, probably not. Men never want to change for the sake of their
relationships, but they think nothing of asking women to change: dieting,
plastic surgery, you know."

"I know! And we do it for them ALL THE TIME!"

"See? You agree with me! And they're never satisfied. You change one thing and
the next thing you know Men are really strange, aren't they!"

"I do not agree!" Stacy pouted. "Well, maybe I do a little. But really love
him, Jeannie. I think he's a really special guy, maybe even the "one". I still
think it's good for me to be working out like this, and I still think he likes
it. And maybe when he comes back I'll be big enough so that he won't HAVE to
close his eyes." Stacy flexed her biceps and a firm muscle rose off her arm in
a gentle curve like that at the top of a computer mouse, but not nearly as
large. She dropped her arm and her head slumped. "Oh, who am I kidding? I'll
never grow enough to make a difference one way or the other!"

Jeannie realized she'd gone too far. "Aw, Stacy, I'm sorry. You've really
developed a lot in just a few months! I'm not trying to discourage you," she
said sympathetically. She looked as though she was about to do something and
then looked pained, shook her head slightly and bit her lip. Instead, she
touched Stacy's hair and gently carressed her head. "There, there, sweetie. If
you feel that way about him, then I bet fate will bring you together. You know
how much he likes you already. It can only get better." Poor Stacy was crying,
so Jeannie held her and continued to rub her back. "You really miss him. He'll
be home soon, I'm sure. And once you're together again it will all be fine,
even better than before. I'm sure of it."

Stacy put her arm around Jeannie and held her. "Oh Jeannie! I don't know what
I'd do without you!" she sobbed. The two talked softly for a few more minutes
and then went to bed.

8

The trip back was one of those classic flights from hell. The short flight to
Dallas dodged thunderstorms all the way so the seatbelt sign never went off.
He was stuck in a middle seat between a large, overweight woman eating potato
chips and candy bars and a teenager whose headphones leaked heavy metal sounds
the entire time. And due to the turbulence he couldn't even get a drink. He
had to dash across DFW to make his connecting flight and then they sat on the
runway for three hours while yet another line of thunderstorms slowly passed
through. At least he had been able to upgrade to business class for that leg
and he napped on the plane, but by the time he got back to his apartment from
LaGuardia he was hot, hungry and in a very foul mood. Stacy wasn't there,
which was just as well, but she had left nothing in the fridge for him.
Instead, he ordered a pizza and took a shower. That and a few beers seemed to
restore his equilibrium. By then it was nearly midnight but he wasn't tired.
Not with that nap and a full stomach. Well, it had been weeks since he'd had a
proper fast internet connection. With Stacy out, this would be a perfect time
to catch up on what he'd missed.

The next hour and a half was a furious effort to tour his favorite sites while
he downloaded videos and pictures. At last, Steve the Z had resumed his
Tarzella series! And "marc" had posted links to hundreds of new pictures in
Fistman's old board. There was plenty of good stuff. But he was in the mood
for something different. The experience of Mae-Lynn, with her real muscles and
unbounded sexual enthusiasm left him unsatisfied with the usual internet fare.
And then he found something he hadn't done yet, a site with downloadable audio
stories, with "real actors and actresses". Just a couple of dollars each. He
looked through the stories and clicked on one with an intriguing description,
then leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the voice talk to him. What a
voice. Low, sexy, confident, playful. He was already getting very hard, but he
resisted the temptation. He could always play the good parts again later.

The woman with the sexy voice was playing a Hollywood wannabee with a lot of
muscle, trying to get her first part. A producer of an action movie had
invited her back to his house.

"So, uh, why do you want to interview me here at your house, Mr. Flower?
What's wrong with your office?"

"Well, you're new in this town, Stephanie. I don't like to work with unknowns.
I want to get to know you better, make sure you're the kind of person I'd like
to work with. So, tell me about yourself."

"Well, ok. I'm a model, you know, and --

"Where have you worked?"

"Umm, I haven't gotten any jobs yet ...."

"I see."

"But, as you can see, I'm very qualified. I think I've got tons of potential.
I've got hard, 16" biceps, rock solid abs, and a 46" bust, which is made up
both of muscle and my spectacular DD breasts."

"Double dees? Hmmm. That's what they all say. Let's see them."

"See ... my -- my breasts?"

"Come, come. I need to see if they're really yours. I don't have all night.
Yes, yes, take that off, and your bra. I want it all off. Well! Mmmm, hmmm!
You ARE very striking, and muscular too. I don't really understand why I
haven't seen you, or heard of you, before. How long have you been in town?"

"Uh, two months."

"Really? Still, I make it my business to find girls like you for my movies.
Did you compete in sports in high school?"

"No."

"With your height and muscle? Why not?"

"Well ... I wasn't always like this. I've developed just recently. Very
quickly."

"Is that so? Well. Girls' bodies do strange things, I suppose."

"Oh yes, Mr. Flower. You have no idea!"

"Well, I can see you're proud of your body. I like it too. I don't often meet
a woman who is nearly as big as I am. You may be just what we need for the
stunt double. We'll have to see how your body performs in action. So, you say
you can act too? What experience do you have?"

"Umm, er. Well, not much."

"I see."

"Maybe I can show you my, uh, talent by telling a story. Like how I got to be
so big and so strong?"

"Why sure, Stephanie," he answered. There was a sound of him getting
comfortable. "Just don't get dressed again while you tell me your little
story. I want to see how you handle yourself without your clothes -- sort of a
test under pressure."

"Um, all right. I, uh, guess so, if you want to look at them. You're kind of a
professional, right? I mean, you're sitting very close, Mr. Flowers. Could I,
uh, ask you, uh, just one thing. Um, please don't touch my breasts while I'm
talking. It'll, uh, you know, distract me. Do you think you can do that?"

He laughed. "Oh, absolutely. And I'll have a video of this to protect me too."

"Mr. Flow -- um, I guess ... I guess that's all right. I just want you to be
patient and get to know me a little first. So, Mr. Flower, when you look at my
breasts, you probably can guess that I wasn't always the woman I am now. Even
just a couple of years ago when I was seventeen, I was only 5'4", with an A
cup, and I weighed only ... well, a lot less than I do now."

The man laughed. "So, as you said, you were a late bloomer. I'm glad your body
knew what to do."

"Mmmmm hmmm. Well, yes. I, uh, I'm sure you want to see what my body can do.
Well, it was just a couple of months ago, really, that it happened. I was
dating a boy then, a nice boy, so I thought. Back in Minnesota, where I'm
from. Tad was impatient. He wanted to take things faster and farther than I
was ready. You know boys, young boys especially. One night, he parked his car
on a deserted road out of town and we started kissing, like we always did. And
then he started getting fresh, touching me in places I didn't want him to."
She paused. "Of course, even then I was just 5'6" and really not very strong,"
she said, "not at all strong enough to defend my ... virtue. Anyway, he got my
shirt off, and my bra. I couldn't really stop him, and no one could hear me
scream."

"You mean he raped you?" John could hear the man shift uncomfortably. "And,
uh, after that you decided that you'd build up your strength so that it would
never happen again?" He looked sceptical. "And this was just two months ago?
Hey, I like a good story. But it has to be believable! And so far, I'm telling
you, you haven't exactly sold me on it."

"Oh please, Mr. Flower! Let me tell it. I swear it's true. Every word!" He
crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back in his chair, waiting
to be convinced. "So you see, back then my breasts were a lot smaller than
they are now, but they were still nice. Round, firm, and, you know, 'perky'."

She laughed and he looked once again at her magnificent pair. "Go on then,
Stephanie. I don't really know what this has to do with how you developed, but
I'm listening."

"Well, he just couldn't wait to touch them. There I was squirming against the
car door, with nowhere to go, in the middle of God knows where. There was
nothing I could do. He was so much stronger than I, a real jock, and there I
was, just a typical, helpless girl. I was trying to push him away, but he
grabbed me and pulled me closer, and my arms just collapsed against his
strength. So, he had one hand on one breast, feeling it, playing with it, and
despite everything he was starting to turn me on. Because my breasts are very
sensitive. Very, very sensitive! And then he put his other hand on the other
breast. All of a sudden I got this strange feeling. A kind of special energy.
It felt so good! My first thought was, 'what a bad girl you are, liking this!'
but then it felt SO good that I decided I didn't WANT him to stop. But when I
looked up at him, he seemed different. Like he was losing his enthusiasm. I
felt him start to pull away, but now I didn't want him to, so I put my hands
on top of his, to encourage him to keep his hands right there. And it was
funny. His hands seemed smaller, or my breasts seemed larger. I didn't think
much about it. I wasn't in a MOOD to think, you know? It was just a fleeting
thought, like, 'what if it's really true that your breasts get larger when
boys feel you up,' like that rumor some of the girls in school would spread.
But I was feeling too good to think about it. I just wanted more. So I held
his hands against my breasts and now I could feel HIM kind of pulling away
from ME, but he couldn't have been trying very hard, because it wasn't that
hard for me to hold him. And I was just feeling better and better. It was kind
of like a game he was playing, I figured. I hadn't wanted to, and he did, and
now he could see I was feeling good and wanting more, so he was teasing me by
pretending to stop. Well, fine, I thought. I'll play, so long as he keeps his
hands on me and keeps touching me. So I laughed and then looked up at him,
expecting to see a little twinkle in his eye, to show me that he knew 'he had
won'. Well, I had to admit that I thought he had. I would have done anything
with him at that point. And have thanked him for it too. But when I looked up
I could see right away that he wasn't playing with me. He was scared,
terrified. And that wasn't all."

At this, there was a pause, and from the sound of the following words John
could tell that the woman had started to smile.

"He looked different. His face looked smaller somehow, and his t-shirt was
hanging on his neck. His chest was narrower too, and then I noticed his arms.
They were practically swimming inside his sleeves. His biceps seemed to have
vanished completely! In a matter of seconds, all his muscle had gone, and he
was smaller too. I was startled too, and those special feelings coming from
his hands on my breasts seemed to be dissipating. So I loosened my hands to
let him go and he quickly pulled his away. I just couldn't believe what I saw!
His wrists were so small! They were like a young girl's! He was looking at me
strangely too. 'Wh-wha-what did you DO to me?!' he asked, both frightened and
angry. I hadn't done anything. And then I noticed my own arm. For the first
time in my life, I had a muscle. Not like the ones I have now, but I could see
a ridge on my forearm and a bulge in my upper arm. And my chest was bigger
too. And my shoulders. 'You STOLE them,' he cried. 'You stole my muscles!'
'Don't be ridiculous,' I told him. 'That's impossible.' But when I looked at
myself and compared my arms with his, it was obvious that he was right."

She paused again, as if she were reliving the moment.

"That poor boy. Seeing him so small and weak, so defenseless, really turned me
on. I don't know why. But then I really wanted him, and, I'm embarrassed to
admit, I took him in my arms, which now were as muscular as his had been, or
even more so, and held his little body against mine. And as his body pressed
against both my breasts I got that feeling again, weaker than before, but
still here. Now he was pushing at me, trying to get away just like I had
pushed him before, but there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop me.
Now I was so much stronger than he was! I kissed him, held him, pushed and
rubbed myself against him and made him touch me the way I wanted to be
touched, and then I came. It wasn't intercourse, you know, but a girl can come
even without intercourse, as I'm sure you know. I felt so good that night. And
then I let Tad take me home. With his little stick arms he could barely turn
the steering wheel of his car! I think he left town the next day. I never
heard from him again."

There was a silence for several seconds and the man exhaled loudly,
skeptically. "So, uh, that's how you grew? That's how you got your muscles,
and your, uh, big breasts?"

"Well, in part. And of course the breasts weren't from him. As a man, he
didn't have any breasts to give me. Those I got from a very sexy 'bi' woman I
met in school, when I was working in a strip club to pay some bills. Poor
Eartha. She loved my body, especially my breasts. She couldn't resist licking
them, sucking on them, and most of all touching them. And after that, the poor
girl had to find other work. There were other men too. It took more than one
man to make me as big and strong as I am today. You do understand that, right?
I don't want you to think I'm still a virgin, or almost a virgin."

"Uh, no. Of course not."

"You don't believe me, do you?" There were several more seconds of silence and
the tension and the suspense rose. You could hear his breathing. "Of COURSE
you don't! Those things don't really happen, except in some man's crazy
fantasy life, right?"

There was a pause, then the man said, "Hah! That's right! And not mine, for
sure!"

She laughed too, in a way that sounded a little forced. "I really got you
going, didn't I? It's just a story, Mr. Flower. Ha-ha-ha! So, uh, I'm pretty
good, huh? Not just a big girl with a great body? Ha-ha! So, don't you think I
can be a REAL actress? You know, I'd be willing to do just about ANYTHING."

"Oh yeah, definitely. I was just wondering if YOU believed it. That's all.
Well, well. You've got some real promise, Stephanie. I can tell you're going
to go places, and I'm just the man to help you get there."

"Oh good! That's good. Ha-ha! Men who fantasize about 'impossible' women
aren't my type at all. But you are, Mr. Flower. You're exactly the kind of man
I like. Tall, strong, bold. A man who sees what he wants and isn't afraid to
take it." She laughed playfully. "I was worried you wouldn't take me seriously
as an actress. But this has gone much better than I'd expected. And, uh, if
you want too, you know, I mean, I'm ready for you. It's been so nice of you to
wait -- if you want to touch them." She laughed again. "Hey, what's the
matter? You're not afraid to touch me, are you?"

"Of course not."

"You KNOW it was just a story! Heh, heh. You're making me feel like I was SUCH
a good actress. Ooooh, you're so sweet! Let me kiss you. There. See? Not so
bad, was it? And you, ha ha, still have your muscles, Mr Flower?"

He laughed. "Yeah, well of course. And why don't you call me Joe, Stephanie. I
mean, when we're together, like this."

"Awwww thanks, Joe. I can be a real kidder, you know. I haven't turned you off
me, have I?" She was very solicitous now, very eager to please him.

"Oh, no," he said. "On the contrary. I'm really impressed, Stephanie. You're a
girl with real potential. I'm sure there's a lot we can do together. I can do
great things for a girl like you."

"I KNOW you can," she said, sounding excited. "I know. And I'm SO thrilled
just to be with you like this. Just thinking about it is making me realllly
hot. So, why don't you just come closer and get to know my body a little bit
better?"

"Heh-heh-heh. Don't mind if I do."

There was a lot of sexy moaning from Stephanie and then, "Oh, Joe, I had no
idea you were SUCH a good kisser too. I want your hands ALL over me! Oh, yes!
I'm so sensitive there, and there and there! Oooh, you have me tingling
absolutely everywhere! Already! Mmmmmm. I want your hands on my breasts right
now. They are ABSOLUTELY my MOST sensitive parts. I know you'd like to touch
them. Look at how you've made my nipples stand up! That's it. Mmmmmm. Yes. Oh
yes! OH YESS!!"

"Hey!" the man's voice cried out. "Hey!! What's happening!?"

"Oh, Joe! I feel so close to you. I want to feel you all over."

"Umm ... I ...

"What is it, Joe? Joe? Is something wrong? You know, your hands feel so good
on my breasts. You're making me feel so good ALL over. I want to hold you
closer."

"I ... so weak ... and I -- you -- [gasp] can't breathe -- crushing me."

"Why, it's just a little hug, darling. A LITTLE hug!!"

His voice, softly. "Ohh! Awwww! felngsostranji"

"What's that? You're mumbling, darling. I can't hear you."

"It's just -- all of a sudden ... I feel ... so strange ... so weak ... dizzy
... like I have ... the flu ... or something --"

"The FLU? NOW??" Stephanie asked, incredulously, then burst out laughing. "I
don't THINK so! Awww, let Stephie have a look at you. Oh GOODNESS me! LOOK
what's HAPPENED to YOU!"

"I ... I"

"Oh me oh my! You've gotten SMALLER! Your muscles are just HALF the size they
used to be! How did THAT happen?!"

"I ... I ... no! It's impossible!"

"I KNOW! Things like this just don't HAPPEN in REAL life. Do they?"

"No, they -- my GOD! LOOK at YOU!"

"Heh-heh. I LOVE it when you look at me like that!"

"Your muscles. They've grown ... they've gotten so much bigger!"

"You THINK so? Let me flex them and see. Oh my, you're right! They ARE larger,
aren't they! But how -- well, you don't think they're TOO large ... for the
starring role?"

"The starring -- wait! Uma Thurmond has that part!"

"That little stick? An action hero? That's crazy! What'd she do? Sleep with
you?"

"That's none of your -- that has nothing to do with --

"Just look at how MY biceps rise so high when I flex them. They're rock hard
too! Isn't it amazing the way they grow so quickly when I have a strong man
around, a man who knows all about power? Do you think you should feel them to
check them out? Do you think your audience will like them too?"

"I don't know ... I --"

"Don't YOU like them?"

"I ... I"

"You're not sure? Let me pump them a few times to help you decide. Mmmm. Have
you ever SEEN a woman with a figure like mine with such big muscles too? They
look like pure power to me. But if YOU'RE not sure, then maybe...." She sighed
loudly. "Oh well. I guess I'd better just get dressed and go home."

"Wait! Where are you going? You're not going to LEAVE me like this!?"

"No? But you're not giving me the part! You're giving it to Uma!"

"You can't do this to me!"

"Do what?"

"Take my ... my --

"Your muscles? Hmmmm? Did I take them away?"

"Dammit! You know what you've done, missy!"

"Ooooh look, the big shot is getting angry. Did I do something I shouldn't
have done? Something wrong? Tee-hee. Look at the big producer with the itty
bitty muscles! He's gonna punch me. I'm scared, really scared!"

"Stop that! Now you listen to me! You are NOT going to leave me with the
strength of a teenage boy!"

John knew just what was coming. Just thinking about it was making him so hard.
His whole body was screaming at him for release. Resisting the desire to end
it right here and now was almost torture, but he wanted to -- no he HAD to --
hear the rest while he was feeling just like this.

There was a sound of a large body settling against the springs of a bed. "But
you look so cute. Let me feel those little muscles of yours. Oh, they're
adorable! So soft and cuddly! So completely harmless!"

"Let go of them. Owwww!"

"I was just squeezing them a little. I wanted to see how hard they were. I
mean, how soft. Oh Mr. Flower! Look how small they look now next to mine. See
how mine rise up and down when I flex them, like a great big ball inflating? I
bet that if you flexed yours, they would pretty much just stay along that
skinny little line. Let's see!"

"You ... you ... witch!"

"I'm not a witch. I'm just -- I don't know -- a little strange. It's just a
funny thing my body knows how to do. It happens when someone touches both my
breasts, almost like they're closing an electrical circuit. If it's a woman
touching me, my breasts grow and hers shrink. And if it's a man, then I get
bigger and bigger and stronger and stronger. And the man ... well, tee-hee ...
as you know!"

"Listen you. I'll --

"Ooooh, what a temper! You just tried to hit me! Well, I blocked your little
fist but you're still trying! C'mon, Mr. Flower! Push harder! Try to push my
hand back. Awww, you can't? Are your arm and its itty bitty muscles too weak
to push away the arm of a young girl? Awww, you're so cute when you get mad
and try so hard! You're all red! I'm going to have to give you a great big
hug."

"No! Stay away! Stay away from me!"

"But you didn't want me to leave you as strong as a teenage boy, so I'm gonna
help you. Ha! Just look at you, trying to push me away. Those cute little arms
of yours, struggling and straining against my shoulders. But I'm not moving.
MY muscles are SO much bigger! SO much stronger! It's so EASY for me to pull
you closer like THIS! And THIS! We're so close now, just an inch apart. My
breasts are almost touching you. It's such a turn on to be so close together,
isn't it!"

"No! Get away!"

"I'm getting so turned on! Oh my, look at my nipples! They're getting harder!
And longer!"

"No!!"

"They're coming closer to you! Heh-heh! You're straining to get away. But my
hand is right in back of you. So you can't move, can you? As hard as you try.
Even now you aren't even close to being strong enough. Imagine how it will be
after we touch. Imagine how much stronger I'll be then, how much weaker you'll
be. Did you know I can make your muscle go anywhere I want? Imagine ALL the
muscle from your legs flooding into my arms, making my biceps that much
bigger, that much stronger!"

"Noooo!!"

"Tee hee. And just imagine: you, a man, so afraid, terrified even, of a
woman's breasts. My breasts. My big, round, beautiful breasts. The idea of it
just makes me SOOOOOOOO hot! Oh, yes! Just thinking about it is making my
nipples even harder. And longer. So long!"

"Agggghhh! They're touching me! Oh God, no! This can't be happening to me. My
muscles are just melting away! I'll be nothing more than skin and bones.
Please! Have mercy!"

"Mmmm, mercy, mercy me! I can actually feel your strength pouring into me. My
arms are filling up with your muscle. Look at my biceps grow! Imagine the
strength I have now! Look at the size of my muscles! Isn't this what an action
heroine should look like?"

"Please, Stephanie, please."

"You kept yourself so fit, with your fancy exercise room and thousand dollars
a week trainer, and now all that hard muscle is mine. Wow! Just like that!
Oooh, feel them Rock hard. Awww, but you're too weak now even to raise your
arms. You're shrinking away, dwindling, collapsing, disappearing, and ...
gone!" She chuckled. "Gotcha!"

John couldn't resist another second and exploded into his hand.

Stephanie gave a low chuckle. "Not much left of HIM. Well, I may not have
gotten the part, but I got the whole. Mmmmmmmmmmm." The file ended.

John washed up a bit, saved the file and slid into bed. He'd have no trouble
sleeping now.

9

The next morning John awakened to the sound of the key turning in the lock. He
shook his head groggily. He couldn't remember how he'd left the computer. Had
he exited the audio story site? Had he left his sensitive directory up on
Explorer? He raced out of bed to his office and quickly turned off the monitor
screen just in case, then went out into the hallway.

"Stacy! Hi!" he bellowed, forcing out considerably more enthusiasm than he
usually mustered before 2 pm.

She came right in and hugged him closely. "John. Oh John! You're back! When
did you get back? You're back!" She squeezed him tightly and opened her mouth
to his kiss, then rested her head on his shoulder. "You're back, you're back.
I missed you so much! When did you get here? Is everything all right? Oh! I
have to shower and go to work! Can we shower together?"

Stacy's excitement made him smile and warm inside, then made him feel guilty,
both about Mae-Lynn and his secret explorations on the Internet. He held her
again, noticing the changes in her body from her last three weeks of training.

"Do you LIKE it?" she asked, looking up at him hopefully. "I've been working
really hard." She looked conflicted. "Ooooh! If it weren't for this new job! I
REALLY have to be on time. Come on!" She pulled him by the arm to the bedroom,
where she dropped her bag on the floor and then started undressing. "I was at
Jeannie's last night. I'm so silly, I know, for not sleeping here. I just
can't help feeling funny -- being in your apartment when you're away. Maybe if
we were --" She stopped suddenly, realizing what she had almost said. She was
nearly undressed now and was feeling extremely sensitive to John's reaction to
her increasingly well-toned body. Baring her feelings to him so nakedly as
well would be just too much. She had considered in her daydreams of seeing him
again doing a quick flexing pose for him, but in person she immediately
decided not to. Definitely not. Even around John she felt a little shy about
her body, and now felt even more so, especially because he hadn't said
anything yet.

John was looking at her. He was impressed at what she'd done in such a short
period. Very impressed in fact. Her figure was trimmer and the outlines of her
abdominals were very clear. Her shoulders were broader and faint traces of her
veins ran down her arms, which no longer jiggled, even a little. Instead there
was a curve of muscle, not large. Certainly not large compared with his, or
even Mae-Lynn's he thought with more than one kind of pang, but it was a
muscle where there had been nothing but soft feminine flesh before. On another
day he might have taken her arm, laid his head along her biceps and felt the
muscle with his cheek, then asked her to flex it, enjoying the sensation of
the muscle rising within her, its hardness, the fact that it was hers and
thrilling somehow in the knowledge that it was his desire that had almost
magically willed that muscle into being. "It's great honey. Amazing even. I
can't believe how much you've developed already," he said. He took her arm and
kissed it from her wrist to her shoulder, pausing to kiss her biceps twice. "I
love it."

She looked at him intently. "Oh do you? Oh John! I'm so glad! I'm so excited
you're home, so excited for us. You know I want to be the perfect girl for
you!" She hugged him again, burying her face on his chest, letting her
expression go for just a moment to express the disappointment she felt in his
reaction. She STILL wasn't big enough for him. She could tell. She STILL
wasn't the girl of his dreams. Would she EVER be? Then she took a deep breath.
"Do you WANT to take your shower now? With me? You must have gotten in late.
You can go back to bed if you want. I'm just glad to see you."

"No, no! I need to get up. Come on!"

He picked her up in a cradle hold and carried her to the bathroom while she
wondered whether what he REALLY wanted was for her to do that to HIM. But
she'd NEVER be strong enough to do that. NEVER! She hoped his fantasies
weren't the ONLY way to his heart.

10

John settled back into a dreamy post-cum haze, sitting on the bed while Stacy
buzzed around him, blowing him kisses every few seconds as she got dressed for
work. The blow job in the shower was unexpected. So was her aggressiveness,
pushing him against the wall, proving to him that him her new muscles weren't
just for show. He enjoyed letting her "outmuscle" him, watching those cute
biceps of hers rise as she "held him in place" to take his "punishment," as
she called it, forcing him to let her drink up his "secret serum" to make her
even stronger. He had to give her credit. It was a clever little scenario
she'd thought up and it had made him hard instantly. He had to remember not to
underestimate her, not to take her for granted. She really cared about him,
really wanted to please him, and yet she wasn't a pushover. Her determination
and discipline in her exercise course proved that. He kissed her good-bye and
then settled back into bed, happy to take an extra hour or two to sleep. He
was so relaxed.

It was almost three hours later before he woke up again feeling refreshed and
still very good. A shave, breakfast and coffee made him feel almost normal
again, and he settled in to work to make up for several weeks of neglecting
his other clients. Four hours of work settled the major upsets, and, most
importantly, he sent off his bill for the last three weeks. Now he was ready
for a short break and opened up his personal (unknown to colleagues, clients
and Stacy) email account. Mae-Lynn had already sent him two emails, one with
an attachment. With some misgivings he opened it, a large digital picture of
her right biceps with an arrow pointing at its surprising peak. The email
simply said, "Kiss me here!" He chuckled, superimposed some lips on it and
sent it back to her while reading the other, heartfelt message about how much
she missed him already. He went off for some recreational surfing and then
heard the ping of a new email from Mae-Lynn. It was another picture, a crude
morph of her biceps twice their original size with a smiley drawn on the side
and the message, "When you kiss me I grow." John was doing his own growing too
and after a few seconds hesitation, opened his instant message program and
sent a greeting.

"Hi"

After a few seconds delay, the message came back, "My sweet Rose!!!!"

"How are you?"

"Missing you so much! Are you looking at my mussel?"

"Yes. It's lovely."

"Its powrfl darling pure power. Im so hot. I joind a gym this morning. I
worked out for two hours to make my bicepts bigger and harder for you and then
I took that pic."

"It's very sexy."

"I feel so sexy thinking of you and the way you look at me. I want to make
myself reelly big and strong for you. I want you to think about my mussels
growing every day. I just know they will if I start workng out alot."

"I bet they will."

"You know it. Cause you saw how big they got with no exersize. Does it make
you hard thinking about me and my mussels growing?"

"Sure does."

"Did you see Stacy yet?"

John hesitated a minute. He heard footsteps coming down the hallway on his
floor. If it was Stacy ... no, they passed his door. "Yes."

There was a short delay. "Is she alot smaller than me?"

John hesitated again. He felt so disloyal, but the dialogue was making him
very hot. "Yes. A lot."

"Good!" came her answer, instantly. "And think about it luver. How next time I
see you maybe I'll be even bigger then you." She put a smiley after that.

He laughed. "I don't know about that!"

"I mean it. I bet I can do it. I saw this big girl on the inrnet. Somebody put
up her pic and said his girlfrend had boulders for bicepts, and I bet shes as
big as you are, though she has a flabby tum and droopy boobies. Not like me. I
bet I can be bigger then her too."

"No harm in trying."

"You know I will. Just imajen my mussels. Ill send you pics so you wont
forget."

John heard more footsteps. "I have to go Mae-Lynn. Bye!" He signed off and
closed AIM and the email program as Stacy's key opened the door.

"John? Are you home?"

"Hi Stacy!" he said, furiously closing windows. "In the office."

She put down her keys and walked in. "Working? Already?"

"You know. Have to get my bills out."

She stood behind him, leaned over and put her arms around his chest. "I know.
I skipped gym ... just hoping we could maybe go out tonight. If you're not too
tired." He grabbed her and pulled her over him so she landed on his lap.
"Whoops!" she said, squealing happily.

"Sure. Luigi's?"

"Mmmm, that'd be really nice." She looked up at him, smiling. "I'm so happy
when you're home."

11

The next few days with Stacy were so nice that he almost forgot about
Mae-Lynn. Almost, because once a day he checked the email account he'd given
her, looked at the pictures she'd sent him and sent back short replies. But he
stayed off AIM. Stacy was so happy and so playful that he hardly reacted to
the kidding at the gym when Gustaf displayed one of his idiotic charts showing
John's current lifting (not surprisingly down slightly from before his
trip-induced layoff) compared with Stacy's steady progress and then an
extrapolation showing that within fourteen months she would be lifting 50%
more than he. He had a steady number of smaller jobs that kept him busy during
the day and gave him an opportunity to talk with his clients and catch up with
billing. Even MeGaCo had questioned only one item on his invoice, so far. Life
was settling back into a normal routine. Other than his nagging feelings about
Mae-Lynn. Just how big COULD she get?

12 -- September -- Year 2

Stacy and Jeannie were eating dinner at Jeannie's favorite restaurant, a
Middle Eastern place that had belly-dancing after 10 pm. But it was only 7 and
the place was still only half-full. The owner had sent them three times as
much food as they'd ordered, as he always did for Jeannie, and Stacy was
picking at her favorite appetizers. Jeannie, however, was methodically eating
her way through them, working from right to left.

"It's just so frustrating sometimes, you know? I THINK I know how he feels
about me. He says all the right things, up to a point, you know. But I keep
expecting more." She looked up at Jeannie and smiled briefly. "I know you've
heard all this before."

"That's all right." She touched Stacy's hair. "He'd be crazy not to ask you to
marry him. But, well, he's a man, isn't he?"

"Well, yeah!" Stacy said, laughing. "So, you mean of course he's crazy?! You
know, no other woman would do what I do for him. Unless he's away on an
assignment he's in his apartment all day working. His name is on the lease.
And who do you think arranges with the landlord for the repainting that's
supposed to be done every three years, but hasn't been done in the five years
he's lived there?" Jeannie nodded and shrugged. "I feel so silly. We're always
talking about my problems with guys. I know you're a little older than I am,
but if you ever want to ... I mean, maybe you don't think I could help with
anything you worry about."

Jeannie pursed her lips. "Oh no, Stacy. It's not that. I'm just ... not going
out with anyone right now."

"Right now," Stacy repeated. "As long as I've known you -- three years, right?
-- you haven't been seeing anyone." Her face got serious. "I just -- shit,
Jeannie, I'm not, like, prying into some, uh forbidden subject, am I? Just
tell me and I'll shut up, ok?"

Jeannie smiled. "Of course not. But that's not true, really. I was very much
in love with Anth -- a man ... some years ago. We got married, but it didn't
work out the way we'd planned. Since then I just haven't fallen in love with
anyone else."

"You make it sound like it was such a long time ago, like you're so old. But
you're just a few years older than me, aren't you? I can't believe I'm asking
you this, but I just realized I don't know. You don't have to tell me, but
you're in your twenties right?"

"In my twenties? Yes." Jeannie smiled. "I'm sorry for being mysterious. I'm
really just more interested in talking about you than about myself. It's a
long story. I'll tell you someday. I promise."

"Well, ok. I'll hold you to that. I mean it." She sighed. "I don't know what
to do. I need to know if there's some reason why he won't commit further. My
mother says I make it too easy for him. Living there, taking care of him like
he's my husband. She says, 'Why should he marry you, when it's like he has a
wife already, but without any of the obligations?' I hate hearing that -- even
if she could be right." Jeannie shrugged. She had finished the humus and now
was working on the tarama. The tabouleh would be next. Then some tahini. "It's
not like I could ask him," Stacy continued.

Jeannie raised her eyebrows. "No, that wouldn't be a good idea. You have to
use your eyes and ears to find out. Your nose too. Do you want some of this
tarama? It's my favorite."

Stacy shook her head. "I just don't like fish eggs."

"They're really good for you. Stacy, you shouldn't wait for him forever. You
need to find out what he really feels. But you have to be careful with men.
They frighten very easily, you know. You can't be too direct."

Stacy laughed. "Like I could scare JOHN off? Like I'm more powerful than HE
is? That sounds so funny!" She thought of him, working late as usual on one of
his projects. "But I know what you mean. I'm supposed to use my feminine
wiles, my feminine intuition, right?"

"Use what you have. That's the rule. You're smart, Stacy. You've got lots of
skills. Find out what you want to know, so you can tell whether you're wasting
your time, or, what you have to do to get him off the fence."

Stacy covered her eyes. "Oh I don't know. It feels, kinda wrong. You know?
Like I'd be manipulating him."

"Stacy! There's nothing wrong about being perceptive, and trying to get him to
commit is no worse than wearing your prettiest dress to your first date to get
him to ask you out for the second date."

Meanwhile back in their apartment John was nearly finished with another
assignment and put it aside for now. He would take another look at it when his
mind was fresh tomorrow. He only had a day to prepare before he would make the
presentation, in Washington D.C., but it was a variation on others he'd done.
It was just eight. Stacy had invited him to join her for dinner with Jeannie
if he finished in time, but that didn't appeal to him. Jeannie was ok,
especially her tits, but she always seemed to be watching him too closely. He
didn't need that. It was one of the things he liked about Stacy: she wasn't
always evaluating him. Unlike most girls, she pretty much took things as they
came.

He ordered up some dinner from the sushi place across the street, then checked
his stocks, the sports scores and some industry news while he waited for the
delivery. They were always so quick. He munched on the tekkamaki first, and
then the hamachi and toro, saving the uni and then the ikura for last. That
and some saki made him really mellow.

The Yanks were in Oakland this week, so there was no game on yet. Time for
some surfing. There was the usual email from Mae-Lynn. They had tailed off for
awhile to once a week, but after he'd made a return trip to Arkansas three
weeks ago they were coming in every day again, each one with a new digital
picture. Yesterday's picture was really amazing, the way she'd rested her tit
on top of her biceps, showing the head of the muscle pushing up her breast
right under the nipple. He'd never seen a picture like that before. He
couldn't stop staring at the head of her muscle. He'd never imagined that a
girl could get so hard. For all of his annoyance about Gustaf's misleading
charts of Stacy's progress, John had to admit that Mae-Lynn might actually be
growing faster than most men. Maybe even faster than he could. Of course he
didn't really know how much she could lift or whether she was doing it the
right way, without cheating. But in a little more than three months she was
already much harder than he'd remembered and bigger too. It took all his
strength to wrestle her down, and he wasn't entirely sure that she hadn't let
him win. It made him a little nervous, but it was exciting too. He wondered
whether MeGaCo had any idea why he'd accepted a slightly lower margin for the
latest job, just to have a reason to go see Mae-Lynn. They always seemed to
know a lot more about him than he expected. He considered a moment, then
decided to go on AIM. As he expected, Mae-Lynn was there and she IM'd him at
the same time he messaged her.

"Hi luver! Miss me?"

"I do. Keeping those muscles warm?"

"Not warm. Hot!!! Hot enuf to burn my prtty Rose!"

"Sounds good."

"I had a reelly tuff wrkout tday. I think just thnking bout you makes my
mussels grow more. Im flexing them rite now."

"Wish I could see them."

"I wish I new how to do a webcam. Wait a minit."

John trolled through Fistman's updates and then his message boards while he
waited.

"Get it?"

She'd sent him an email with another new picture. Good thing she had a cable
modem. She was sitting topless next to her computer, her nipple touching the
screen where the AIM window was placed. Her hand was under the desk, her arm
tensed to make her biceps bulge. Bulge wasn't really the word. Pop sounded
feeble too. Her biceps just swelled. He stared at her picture, getting harder
by the second.

"You there?!!"

"You're amazing!"

"Your sweet. I wanta know what you think of that mussel."

"It's stupendous, so big, so beautiful."

She was typing a long time.

"Im getting reely reely strong. My frends think Im being stupid, cause your so
far away and men heer dont like girls with big mussels like I have. But I
think my mussels ar strong enuf to bring us togethr. Do you think I Am being
stupid?

He was glad he wasn't there now. He typed quickly. "No. I'll be back as soon
as I can work it out."

"Im glad you left that Stacy. I new you wuldnt stay with her once you got used
to me. Momma wuld be reely mad if I went away to NYC. Shes says its a reely
bad place but im shur not the part were you liv. Are there a lotta girls there
with big mussels?"

"None like yours."

"I have to go."

"Why?"

"Work."

"OK. When is megco bringing you back agin?"

"I don't know. I was just there. I'm working on it."

"OK. I miss you. Dont wait too long so my mussles are bigger then yors. OK?"

"I won't."

"Too late. They are alreddy twice as big as yors! Ha-ha!!"

He smiled at the thought and got hard all over again. She always said
something like that in her emails too.

"I kiss them all!"

"Mmmmm! By my sweet rose."

John closed the open windows and shifted in his seat. He hoped Stacy got home
soon. He was MORE than ready for action.

13

"Jeannie! Jeannie! Look! Just LOOK at her!"

Jeannie peered at the picture on the screen. She found it repulsive, the kind
of build that a slave-woman would have. But that wasn't the point.

"Look how BIG she is. There are 72 pictures of her, and each one is worse than
the next!" Stacy moaned, her hysterical face an ugly mix of tears, red
blotches and runny mascara.

Jeannie stepped carefully over the logical impossibility of the remark and
rested her hand lightly on Stacy's neck while she made sympathetic sounds to
calm her friend. "Aww Jeannie. Maybe it's not what you think. Perhaps it's
just a few pictures and ...."

"It's NOT!! He's been seeing her every time he goes to Arkansas! And he told
her we'd broken up! See? In her reply to this email!"

Jeannie studied it. They sure looked like they were John's own words. She
stood over Jeannie's shoulder as Jeannie called up the whole series of emails
John had saved in his filing cabinet, over 50, most with pictures. "I'm so
sorry, Jeannie. So sorry. Really," she said soothingly, stroking Stacy's hair
while she waited to see where Stacy would go with this -- an angry vow to
break up or tearful sobs while she wondered how to win back John's heart. Poor
Stacy. She thought Stacy would still want John, but however Stacy felt,
Jeannie would help her friend any way she could.

"Did, uh, John just leave all this open on his computer?" Jeannie asked,
curious.

"No. Well, he hid it, but, um, part of my training, at my new job, was to
learn how to find things on employee computers that they're not supposed to
put there. People always use the same kinds of tricks, you know. I never would
have found this stuff otherwise. So I thought about what you said about using
my nose ... and my skills ... and he was away in Washington for a couple of
days. And you know what ELSE I found?" Jeannie shook her head, worried about
what was there but very curious nevertheless. "Videos! Stories! Even little
plays!" Stacy was getting emotional again.

"Plays? You mean, like on Broadway?"

Stacy nodded. "Listen to this one!" She navigated through a few folders than
clicked on a file.

"So, uh, why do you want to interview me here at your house, Mr. Flower?
What's wrong with your office?"

"Well, you're new in this town, Stephanie. I don't like to work with unknowns.
I want to get to know you better, make sure you're the kind of person I'd like
to work with. So, tell me about yourself."

"Well, ok. I'm a model, you know, and --

Stacy stopped it. "It's so weird! But now I can see where John gets some of
his, uh --" She blushed bright red.

"I don't get it," Jeannie said. "It sounds, I don't know, like a set-up for a
pornographic play, but --

"No. Oh, I didn't play you the, you know, weird part. Listen." She played
Jeannie the muscle transfer part. "See? This is stuff he fantasizes about."

Jeannie stared at the computer. "Well ... it's ... interesting," she said. She
was waiting for some kind of cue from Stacy. What did she want to do? Jeannie
had seen and heard a lot of strange things, some much stranger even than this
fantasy. But that wasn't the point, and anyway it wasn't something she would
tell Stacy.

"I mean ... if I'd known what John really wanted ... I don't know ... I would
have pretended THIS for him. Instead, he's got this OTHER girl lifting weights
like crazy to become his fantasy. And I think it's WORKING!" Stacy started
crying again.

"You still want him, don't you?" Jeannie asked, knowing the answer. But Stacy
should say it, if that's the way she really felt.

Stacy nodded. "Oh you must think I'm pathetic. And sick too!" She buried her
head in her hands and sobbed. "I'm so embarrassed!"

"No, Stacy, no! I'm the LAST person to judge YOU! You love him! So of course
you'd do anything to please him. I understand that perfectly."

She was still crying but said, "You do?? I thought you'd think I was a
complete wimp! But I had to ... had to tell somebody ... and you're my best
friend!!"

"Oh, dear, dear Stacy. Why don't you take a bath and calm down? I won't go
anywhere. Would you ... mind if I look at those emails again, and maybe those
videos ... and that whole play. I want to try to understand John a little
better. And then we can talk, ok?"

"Will you stay over tonight? Here? John won't be back until tomorrow at least.
I don't want to be by myself."

"Of course, Stacy. Now show me how to do what you did and then draw yourself a
hot bath and get comfortable. OK?"

Stacey sniffled and did as Jeannie asked, then gave her a big hug and thanks
and went off to do as Jeannie suggested.

Jeannie sighed. She reread John's emails. listened to the play and watched a
dozen videos of muscular women flexing. Then she read a few stories. Most were
appallingly bad, but she found some of them amusing, especially the ones
involving magic. Suddenly the computer emitted a noise and then the same noise
again. She closed some of the windows and clicked on a blinking box.

"U ther? Rosey?"

Jeannie recognized the name of the woman from the emails. She giggled and
typed "Yes. I'm here."

"Miss me luvr?"

Jeannie listened carefully. Stacy was still in the bath. She turned down the
volume switch on the speaker and then typed. "Oh yes! I miss you and your
great big muscles."

"You do? I wrked two hours on my big arms today, making them bigger and bigger
for you."

"I love that."

"I no you do. Im flxng them rite now for you. Their so big they rip my
sleves."

"Wow."

"Their bigger and stronger than yors. Much bigger."

"Really?" There was a delay. Jeannie wondered if she'd said the wrong thing
and given something away.

"Ar we playing or reel?"

Jeannie thought quickly. "Real. But just for a minute."

"OK Then no. Of corse not. Yor my big strong man."

"You wouldn't want me to be weaker than you?"

"Oh no Jonny. You know that."

"Just checking. Can we go back to playing now?"

"Momma's out so we can do what ever you want." There was a pause. Then another
message. "Are you tuching yorself?"

Jeannie wanted to burst out laughing but she resisted. "Yes."

"You want to no what IM donig?"

"Yes."

"I can tell yor tipig with one hand :) yor ansers are so short."

Jeannie smiled. Perfect. "You know what I want?"

"Shur I do. Im rite ther sweettie. with you in yor cosy room. Im walkin up to
you. You have yor close on but Im gonna rip them off. You cant stop me. Im to
strong."

"Right."

"Ssshh. Dont interup. honny. Just do what you want to do."

Jeannie resisted the temptation to type "OK." and sat back, letting
Maelynn83's words scroll down.

"Yor mussels are just too littl to stop me. See? You try to hold me back but
you cant."

"Im so strong. I ript the shirt off of yor back and rassle you off of yor
chair."

"Im holding you down. with one arm only its all i need. cause im so strong. so
stronger then my littl rose!"

"You cant beleev how big my mussels got. And how hard. They practicly burst
out of my arms."

Curiosity got the better of her, and Jeannie typed, "Tell me how you got so
strong."

"There like mellons you want to -- haha. you want to do that part agan? ok. I
like to giv you what you want."

"remember you used tobe stronger then me? when we first met. but theres a
magic connection betwen you and me ever since we made luv cause of whats in
yor hart."

"it was yor secret wish and mine to. you cant controle it now. you cant stop
it. you try to get stronger but yor strenth just goes to me. its yor mussels
going to me that makes me so strong."

"part of you still wants to be strong. but you cant be anymor and you cant
help luving my strenth and the mor you luv it the stronger I get."

"look how big my bicepts are. so much bigger then yors. 3 times as big and
rock hard to. I can pik you up with one arm and crush you aginst my big boobs.
all you can do is suck them."

"im so big an musclar that you cant even put yor arms all the way round my
back. you try but theres too much big hard mussel"

There was a pause. "You stil ther honny?"

Jeannie smiled. "Don't stop. I want you to get stronger."

"Heh heh. Shur honny."

"Yor so turnd on by my mussels I can feel it happning agan. Im getting more of
yor strenth. My mussels are growing. My arms are even bigger. And yors are
shrinkng. And getting softer."

"Yor getting so skinny and soft without yor mussel. I can rap one arm round
you and press you aginst me. you cant beleev my power but you reely luv it."

"you luv my mussels. I flex my bicept aginst yor cheek so you can feel how
hard it is. its as big as yor face."

Jeannie had read enough. So this was John's thing. Well! She wondered if Stacy
ever seen one of those dialogues. Maelynn83 wasn't much of a writer, that was
for sure. Jeannie wondered how the author of her favorite book, "The 1001
Nights," would have done with this theme, but she'd never know. He'd been dead
a long time and no one was not going to bring him back. Well, she knew just
what she was going to do. She typed, "Oh God! That was great!"

There was a pause. "Any time honny. Are you feeling relaxd?"

Jeannie sat there and let some time go by. She heard Stacy splashing, the
water still dripping in the bath. She still had enough time before Stacy would
be out.

"Honny? Are you ther?"

Jeannie took a deep breath and typed "I'll be over soon Sam. I just need to
get rid of that dumb hillbilly I told you about. She's a good fuck but I'll
have to drop her. She thinks I'm going to bring her to NY! Well, it doesn't
look like I'll be going back to Arkansas anytime soon anyway so she won't be
much use to me." Jeannie counted to ten. Then twenty. Then she typed. "Just
kidding, sweetie," as if John had noticed his mistake and was trying to get
out of it.

"You peece of shit! That was reel what you rote to somwon els. I hate you.
HATE YOU!!!!!!!" And she signed off.

She wasn't sure how Maelynn83 would react if John started emailing her,
wondering why she wasn't sending him pictures anymore. Jeannie guessed she
probably would ignore him, but she might not. Just to be sure maybe Stacy
would know a way to stop the emails or mess up John's AIM account. Unless ....
Stacy looked around and found John's spam control. It wasn't hard to add
Maelynn83 to the list of blocked addresses. Now she didn't have to tell Stacy
exactly what she'd done.

Jeannie closed the AIM program, eliminating the chat window for good. She
curled up in the chair, holding her knees against her chest, tucked her chin
under her arms and closed her eyes and bobbed her chin. It was her coziest
position. Her plans didn't always work out the way she expected. But they were
always fun. She breathed deeply and slowly for a couple of minutes to calm
herself down, then got up to get Stacy out of the bath. She was getting
hungry.

"Stacy! You all right in there?"

"Yeah," she said after a short delay. "Just thinking."

"Me too. And I was thinking about dinner too."

"I don't think I'm hungry."

Jeannie pushed open the door and stood next to the bath. She put her hand on
Stacy's wet wrist and pulled her up. "Hey, come on. I bet you're hungrier than
you think. How are you going to build up your body if you don't keep eating?"

"Oh, I don't know Jeannie. What's the point? I'll never look like that Maelynn
girl."

"Of course not. You'll look like Stacy, but a more muscular Stacy. Don't give
up. You're on the right track. You saw the pictures of her that he was saving.
Be inspired. You just have to keep plugging away at it. Unless you believe
some kind of magic is going to help you."

Stacy sighed. "I wish it would. You really think I shouldn't just break up
with him?"

"It's not what I think. It's what you want. And I'm here to help. I just took
care of Maelynn for you."

"You did?!! How?"

Jeannie put her arm around Stacy. "Well, when you were checking out all his
secret accounts on his computer and you signed onto his AIM account, right?"

"Yeah, and I saw Maelynn83 was on his buddy list. The only one. He must use
that screen name only for chatting with her."

"Uh-huh. So, you know how they say no one knows you're a dog on the internet?
Well, no one knows you're Jeannie either. It's like magic. Maelynn83 signed on
while you were in the bath, and let's just say she got a message from 'John'
that she didn't really like. I don't think she'll want to see John ever
again."

"That's so sneaky! Jeannie! I'm surprised at you!"

"Well, it's done. Are you going to write her back and tell her it wasn't
really John?" Stacy shook her head slowly. "OK then. Come on, Jeannie. 'All's
fair in love and war,' you know. Hey, when we're done he would have broken up
with her anyway, so it's just as well it's done sooner rather than later."

"I guess so. I would never have done a thing like that though, Jeannie."

"That's why I did it."

Stacy laughed. "I never KNEW you could be so BAD, Jeannie!"

Jeannie didn't want to answer that. "Please can we have dinner Jeannie. I
promise we can talk about John ALL during dinner if you want. But I'm VERY
hungry."

"OK. Since you keep talking about food I guess I am too. I did have a workout
before I came here and it always gives me an appetite. I'll get dressed quick
and then I need to make sure we haven't left any traces on John's computer.
You won't believe the tricks I've learned working in IT. I'm as BAD as you, I
guess."

Jeannie smiled. "No way!"

14

The day's meetings had gone well, and John finally felt sure that the going
through the extra bureaucracy and FBI clearances he had needed to do work for
the Department of Homeland Security would pay off. Most of his competitors
wouldn't be bothered to do it, and he could now foresee a long series of
contracts at better prices for basically the same work. They needed a steady,
security-cleared supplier, and as long as he didn't get too greedy they would
have little interest in qualifying his competitors either. And unlike MeGaCo,
the Feds wouldn't go to the end of the Earth to steal his secrets and bleed
him dry.

He had briefly considered returning home on the evening shuttle, but an
opportunity for dinner and some drinks with a contact in the Defense
Department proved more important. Now it was 10. He was checked in at an
airport hotel. He had no change of clothes but he would be home by 8:30
tomorrow. Nothing to do but check his email and go to sleep.

Odd that Mae-Lynn didn't send him anything today. She wasn't online either.
Too bad. He'd have Stacy around tomorrow.

The next morning he woke up early but felt out of sorts and went back to
sleep. The next thing he knew it was 11:15. Eleven fifteen! He shook his head
to clear the cobwebs and the room spun. His head was pounding. Oh great. What
a morning to get the flu! He took a couple of aspirin and hobbled to the
shower. His whole body ached. The needles of hot water felt good for awhile,
but as soon as he got out his body started shaking with chills. He wrapped
himself in towels and quickly thought about what to do. He would feel awful
traveling like this; on the other hand, he'd rather be in his own apartment
than ride out the flu in a hotel.

He got dressed quickly, checked out and made his way to the shuttle, shivering
all the way. The trip was an trial. He didn't remember the last time he'd felt
so sick, probably not since before he had left home for university. His bag
felt as though it weighed a ton and he started perspiring heavily from the
moment he left his room. Even hoisting his bag into the overhead storage rack
was difficult, and as soon he he'd landed it inside he felt a shooting pain
that spread from his shoulder across his back. He hadn't hurt those muscles so
badly since he'd offered, for the sake of avoiding a forfeiture, to wrestle in
the top weight class at the State Tournament in High School and Rocky McGurk
had twisted him into knots. Just what he needed. He settled gingerly into the
aisle seat and almost cried out in pain each time he had to get up to let
someone past. By the time the plane landed in New York he was feeling even
worse. The passengers in the aisle waited impatiently while he struggled to
get his bag down again without hurting his back even more. Finally the woman
behind him rolled her eyes and lifted it down for him. He took it gratefully
and pulled it down the aisle, red-faced and dizzy.

By the time he reached his apartment at 3:30 pm he was exhausted and collapsed
on top of his bed and slept soundly until Stacy came home from her workout at
seven and cried out, "John! John! What's wrong?"

He rolled over. "I feel awful, Stacy. I have the flu and I hurt my back."

"Oh you poor man! What can I get you? Soup?"

He shook his head, then changed his mind. "Maybe that would be nice. I haven't
eaten anything all day."

"You HAVE to eat! Let me help you get undressed and into bed and then I'll
make you chicken soup. That's supposed to help right?"

He stood up shakily and started taking off his clothes. "I guess." He winced.

"Let me pull those off. Ooooh, you're so hot," she said. "I'll help you put
these on. I'll be right back. Just get into bed."

When she returned with the soup John was already asleep and he slept through
until the next morning. Stacy gave him breakfast then went off to work and
made him promise to call when he woke up. But he was still sleeping when she
got back after the gym, and other than a few short breaks for soup or oatmeal
it was the same until his fever finally broke in the middle of the following
week.

Stacy was at the apartment with him as much as she could be, but she didn't
see any reason to stop going to the gym since he mostly slept. She was just as
determined as ever to mould her body into John's ideal type and it was
encouraging that the better shape she was in, the more exercise she seemed to
be able to do. She was eating more too, although still not as much as Jeannie
did, and for the first time in her life it all was going in the right places.
Stacy wasn't as proud of her surveillance activities. Now that she had broken
into his email account once she felt less guilty about doing it again. With
John sleeping all the time, she started checking his email account once a day,
and then twice. She saw with some satisfaction that Maelynn83 had sent him
just one email since Jeannie did whatever she'd done to discourage her. It
said, "You hurt me so much. Yore really bad, you know. I keep expecting you to
apologize (see my spelling's better?) but you don't right. Why are you so mean
to me?" Stacy thought a moment, but realized she didn't know what Jeannie had
said, so she just deleted it and wrote back. "I'm not sorry. I was just being
honest. I should have said it before." That was four days ago, and there
hadn't been another email since.

By the next Wednesday John was getting out of bed for most of the day, but he
didn't have the energy to do much more than answer the emails that had piled
up and then do some light surfing. But his heart, and more importantly his
cock, wasn't in it. He still felt too weak to have much interest. Instead he
watched television for awhile in whatever position hurt his back the least and
then went back to bed. When Stacy got home he felt well enough to sit with her
in the kitchen, although he still didn't have much of an appetite.

"John! It's so great you're out of bed again."

"Yeah. I still feel like shit though."

"Uh-huh." She was nearly finished with her plate, while John had barely
touched his. That was ok. If he wasn't that hungry he wouldn't mind if she
took more. "You'll be better soon. It always takes a while to get your
strength back after the flu."

"You're lucky you didn't get it."

"Yeah But I feel so bad for you! Did you get into your work emails today?"

"Yeah. There wasn't anything too bad. Some of my clients were pissed that I
didn't answer emails for a few days, but I'll be able to patch it up. I just
have to get going with my Homeland Security project. So, you've been spending
a lot of time at the gym?"

"Yeah. I'm SO glad I started on that. I'm enjoying it so much! I can see now
why you always spent so much time working out. Why, yesterday I -- what's
wrong, John?!!"

John had grimaced sharply. He twisted his body to relieve the pain. "It's my
back. I hurt it lifting my bag on the day I came down with the flu, and it's
still giving me trouble. Damn!"

"Oh, you poor dear! Can I give you a back rub?"

"Well I...."

"You know I give really good massages. I got a lot of practice when I had my
job at the Hyatt Spa."

"That's the job you quit when one of the guests kept hitting on you?"

"Uh-huh." She wiped her mouth, sated. "C'mon. Let me try."

John looked at his plate, still half-full. He had no desire for another bite.
"Sure, why not?" He couldn't possibly feel any worse.

They went to the bedroom and he lay down while Stacy took some oil and rubbed
it on her hands and then on his back. She ran her hands up and down his
trapezious muscles and worked with her fingers.

"That's not where --"

"Ssshhh. Just relax. Let me work on you."

He closed his mouth. Her fingers did feel good. She was kneading his muscles,
squeezing and pushing them, digging into them. He was feeling more relaxed.
His mind started to wander a little. She has strong fingers. She must have
done this a lot. It's a nice thing to know how to do. If he'd known she was so
good, he'd have asked for massages a long time ago. Yes, this was nice. His
own masseuse, living here. A nice idea. He was really relaxing now. He could
almost go to sleep. But then he'd miss the feeling. Of her fingers on his
shoulders. On his back ....

"That's more like it. You're getting relaxed. Your muscles are feeling looser.
Softer." She laughed, remembering how her arms had gotten into such good shape
when she had worked at the Hyatt. Hey, this would be a good complement for her
exercise at the gym. Then she had another idea. "Hey John. I just had funny
thought. You up for a little, you know, play?"

"Mmmmm?" he said. Her voice was very pleasant. His back felt much better.
Play? Yeah. Sounds nice. "Mmmmm hmmmm."

She laughed again. "OK. Yeah, I like doing this. Getting you all relaxed. All
comfy. You know I like to please you. I know how to please you. What makes you
happy. Your muscles were so stiff when I started. So tight. All tense and
hard. Do you feel how my fingers relax them? Digging deeper and deeper inside.
I can do that as your muscles relax and get softer for me." She shifted her
hands. "There. See? I start on your shoulders. Then your back." She worked on
his back for awhile, then his upper arms. "Such big, strong muscles, but so
tense. So hard. See how I relax them. Isn't that better? Like magic, isn't it?
Magic in my fingers. My strong fingers."

"Mmmmm," John murmured. Yes. Magic fingers. Haven't felt so good in a week.

"You like that? You like the way my fingers feel against your muscles.
Relaxing them. Softening them. The more I work on them the easier it gets. Do
you notice that?"

"Mmmmm." Yes. She was very good.

"Almost as if your muscles weren't as strong. As if you were getting weaker.
Or I was getting stronger. Or both." She paused while her fingers worked on
his arms more vigorously, then shifted to his thighs. "Doesn't that feel
good?"

Yes, very .... What was she saying? She was getting stronger? Whatever it was,
her fingers were sending tingling sensations throughout his body. Despite his
illness, his weakness, he was getting turned on, the tingles resonating in his
growing cock. Semi-consciously, he shifted his position slightly to make more
room for it.

She noticed his arousal. This was amazing, how this idea affected him so.
"Yeah, I can even see it now. It's like a river of your muscle flowing up my
arm then spreading out. Your muscle finding its place, its new home, in my
body. My muscle now. My strength. You can feel it in my fingers. How easily
they press your muscles. As your muscles get softer and weaker. Don't you feel
more relaxed? Can you feel yourself getting weaker?"

His mind was swimming back toward consciousness. "Weaker," she said? He was
feeling weak. Her fingers felt so strong. What was she saying about his
muscles?

She liked the way her forearms and biceps were bulging as she pressed and
squeezed his muscles. She didn't have muscles like this when she had worked in
that health club, or even at the beginning of the year. She should definitely
work this into her exercise routine -- if he liked it. He certainly was fully
erect now. She poured it on, both physically and in speech. "Yours are getting
so soft now. So small. As mine grow. Larger and larger. Harder and harder. I'm
the stronger one now. I'm SO much stronger. My muscles really bulge as I
squeeze your little ones, your soft little muscles. They're so cute now!"

He tried to rouse himself. Little muscles? Cute muscles? What was she talking
about? He WAS feeling weak. Like his muscles were being drained of all their
energy. She was almost hurting him.

"Hey! What are you --

"Ssshh. It's almost --

"My muscles! You can't be --" Like he was waking up from a nightmare he
twisted violently to face her and stop her. "Aggghh! My back!" he cried. "Oww!
Oww!"

"John! What is it?"

"Get away! Stay away! Stay away from me!"

"But John, I --

He looked down at his body. "Oh god! What a dream!" He straightened slightly.
"Owww!"

"You must have hurt your back when you got up so suddenly."

"What was all that crap about taking my muscles?"

She looked stricken. "John! That was a game, a little fantasy." He stared at
her. "I told you. And you said to go ahead. Or something like that."

"I what?" He tried to get up and then winced at the sharp pain.

"It was supposed to be just like the --" she stopped suddenly. She almost let
it slip that she'd listened to the fantasy audio on his computer.

"Like what?" he groaned, clutching at his back.

"Like, uh, the fantasies we do when we make love. You know." She was very
unhappy. "Oh John! I'm so sorry I startled you like that. You looked like you
were enjoying it."

John was too embarrassed to admit he had been and had just gotten confused in
his half-sleep. He could vaguely remember both the massage, and her little
act, and they HAD been making him feel very good. But he was in agony. Best
not to answer. "Well, now my back is absolutely killing me."

"Maybe if you lie down and I try to loosen --

It sounded like a great idea, but pride got in the way. "No! Not now!" She
looked very hurt. "I'm sorry, babe. I just ... don't feel like it right now."
He stood up, bent over half to the side. "I think I should just get into bed."

Poor John. He looked really pathetic. Stacy wanted to do something but her
hands fluttered helplessly. He didn't want her even near him. Everything was
going wrong! "I'm so sorry!" she said, starting to cry. "I was just trying to
make you feel better! I thought you wanted me to!"

"Stacy, Stacy," he said. I'm just ... not better yet. OK? It was a great
massage. Really. I'd better lie down." He turned and moved slowly back to the
bedroom while Stacy watched.

15

John's back was no better the next day, nor the next. Stacy tried to give him
a massage on the third day, but even that was painful. By the fourth day he
could walk around, but only very slowly, and any attempt to lift or carry
anything produced immediate, excruciating pain. And the flu seemed to linger
forever. Even a week later, even a walk to Central Park still left him winded.

John knew there was little to do about the aftermath of the flu. But the pain
was another thing. Finally he went to the doctor and after X-rays, an MRI and
several consultations with specialists his GP gave him a tentative verdict:
spondylolysis. John had never heard of it before, and even the doctors didn't
all agree on it or on the appropriate treatment. The first doctor said there
was really nothing he could do. He would have to let it heal, slowly, through
rest, and then work on strengthening his back muscles to compensate for the
apparent genetic defect (or feature, as one of the silver-tongued specialists
suggested) that made his spine somewhat less balanced than it should be. He
went for a second opinion, and that doctor questioned the diagnosis,
suggesting it was only simple muscle spasms, and that while exercise would
never hurt, it wouldn't have any particular benefit for stopping muscle spasms
in the future. Since at the moment, nothing was healing and he couldn't resume
his exercise anything, all the disagreement just angered John.

"But why now? Why is it bothering me all of a sudden? I've been playing sports
my whole life!" John complained to his regular GP, who he'd been seeing every
since he'd moved to New York. Dr. Gary Milner was just a few years older than
John and was comfortable speaking plainly to him.

The doctor shrugged. "It happens to all of us, John. What are you, 28? Our
bodies don't last forever. You're still very much in your prime of course, but
these little kinks that didn't matter at age 15, 20, 25, do start to turn up,
more of them every year, I'm afraid. You're in great shape, and that will help
your recovery. My own view, although I'm not a specialist in this area, is
that once this heals I'm sure you'll be able to go back to all your old
activity -- except the football, John. I wouldn't advise that because of the
possible further injury to your back from repeated impacts. Do you play golf?"

John glared at him. Golf was an old man's game. "No! And I don't plan to
learn, Gary."

"Good. The twisting motion wouldn't be good for you either. But I have to say
I think the first opinion was the right one. When you're ready for physio,
we'll give you some special exercises. That will help. And Yoga or Pilates."
John made a face. "Right. Well, the back exercises will help. Before you know
it you'll be back at the gym!"

John nodded and thanked his doctor. He straightened slowly and left, wincing
as he entered and left the taxicab on the trip home.

16 February -- Year 3

The months that followed were some of the most difficult John had ever faced.
Although the general feeling of weakness from the flu passed eventually, his
back pain lingered. He had to turn down several profitable jobs, including
important engagements at Homeland Security, because travel was too painful.
After he found out that the Department had qualified another consultant he
made an appointment to meet his contacts to try to keep the job, but he was in
so much pain during the meeting that it did nothing to convince them he would
be a reliable service provider. Even worse, the trip to D.C. alone likely set
back his recovery by several weeks. And despite the doctor's encouragement, or
perhaps because of his overeagerness to resume normal activity, the pain kept
returning whenever he did anything strenuous. Only after a month of nearly
complete rest was he well enough to start physiotherapy. And that program was
far from satisfying. His therapist, an older woman named Adiba Muselhi, seemed
overly conservative and discouraged him from setting his hopes too high. The
back, leg and stomach exercises she gave him did nothing for his upper body or
for his fitness level generally, and she was very strict in warning him not to
attempt any other exercise until his back muscles were strong enough.
Naturally after a week without too much pain he disobeyed her instructions and
went back to the gym. It took just three curls for him to collapse onto the
floor in pain, and that set him back yet another month before he could start
his back exercises again, which he would be allowed to do only with permission
from his doctor. It wasn't very hard for him to detect the note of triumph in
her voice when he told her what had happened.

Stacy was completely sympathetic, but there were only a few things she could
do to help. She couldn't help him with his work. She couldn't speed his
healing. And it was hard to put up with his frustration and anger and try to
make him see that as bad as things were, they were at least a teeny bit better
when she was around.

For a while John refused to let her give him more massages, then he relented
gradually when she proved how good she could be at easing the back spasms. His
grumpy mood and inactivity had greatly reduced his libido, but Stacy found
that playing the little "script" she had tried with the first massage almost
always did the trick and soon it became their main gateway into sex.

Although Stacy was a bit disappointed at his loss of initiative, it had its
positive side. For one, this new development gave her a lot of control over
their sex life. Also, although she didn't really want to admit it, she was
starting to enjoy the "role" John had assigned to her, as a woman who could
"absorb" his strength. It wasn't something she would have chosen by herself.
But, as with her new responsibilities at work, she was fashioning a new image
of herself as a strong and capable woman. She liked that person, and she was
gaining confidence that once John healed and got back to his normal patterns
of work and exercise -- and sex -- he would like that person too. After all,
it wasn't as if she WANTED to take over his role in bed or take away his
muscle and power. She was just doing what came naturally. But then, there was
also a supernatural excitement to it: the idea that she could "magically" grow
stronger by touching John's muscles was developing into a turn-on for her too.
Not that she would ever admit that to John.

Stacy felt that their relationship had entered into a new, better phase, even
though it felt a little strange at times. She knew John was having a tough
time, and she felt a little guilty that his misfortunes were somehow linked to
her feeling better about herself and their relationship. But it wasn't as
though she was being selfish. She wanted what was best for both of them, and
for them as a couple. She was grateful that they were adapting, coping with
his temporary disability and finding new ways of being together. That's what
you had to do in a long term relationship, in a marriage. Surely that must
mean as much to him as it did to her, that notwithstanding their difficulties,
there was enough of a bond between them that they could grow and even become
closer, no matter what happened.

Still, even apart from the challenges she felt she was surmounting in their
relationship, Stacy knew she was growing as a person. One of the things that
role-playing did for her was to allow her to imagine herself in a different
way. She was a firm believer in the power of thought. Her mother had been ill
when Stacy was a teenager, and Stacy had gone with her to classes on
visualizing health. Shortly after the classes had begun Stacy's mother started
improving, and ever since Stacy had believed that visualizing something could
bring her halfway to actually doing it. Now, while she massaged John's muscles
and pretended to be an evil succubus who had wormed her way into the palace of
the enemy king and was secretly leaching his muscle, his muscle tone, even his
very ability to build muscle, she was visualizing herself as growing stronger
and more muscular. And these images carried over to her now daily sessions at
the gym, where she continued to make more progress than she'd ever dreamed
possible.

Of course she noticed that John's muscle tone and even the size of his muscles
were in fact decreasing. She didn't say anything to him about that either. He
no doubt noticed it and she was sure that was part of what was upsetting him.
Admitting that she noticed it too would just make it worse for him, because
there was nothing he could do about it until his back was completely healed
and he could start his normal exercises again. The last thing Stacy wanted him
to do was to go back to the gym too soon. He'd just end up hurting himself all
over again and make everything worse.

At times, it also occurred to her that the fantasy and visualization could be
having the same effect on John, in reverse. But then, there was another more
obvious explanation for the changes in his body: his lack of exercise.
Besides, visualization was a technique that she believed in and used. John
didn't. Once when shortly after they'd met she started telling him about it,
he had just dismissed it as typical feminine emotional logic. At the time
Stacy had felt a bit hurt, but now, with her added confidence, she decided
that his was simply a typical male reaction. All she knew, and cared about,
was that it worked for her. And no doubt once he got back to the gym the
things that worked for him before would work for him again.

17 May -- Year 3

"Well, look who's here. I thought you'd become one of those guys who take
advantage of our one-month specials and then never come again."

"Don't be an asshole, Gustaf. You know I hurt my back."

Gustaf planted himself in front of John. "Yeah, yeah. That's what I heard.
Well, we're gonna need a note from your doctor before you start lifting. Club
policy. You know those lawyers." He crossed his thick arms in front of his
chest and smirked.

John glared at him. "I suppose I shouldn't say this, but I DO know my
assholes." He pulled out the letter he had pried from a very reluctant Ms.
Muselhi, and only if he promised to build up very gradually. Yeah, right!
"Here jerkface. A letter from my physiotherapist. And no bullshit. I know the
club accepts letters from her because they have before."

Gustaf looked at it. "I'll have to run it by the office but, yeah, it looks
ok." He looked John up and down. "You better take it easy the first day
though, if you know what's good for you. You don't exactly look like you're in
peak condition. Not like your girlfriend."

"I'm fine. Just make sure you keep the machines oiled, Gustaf. See you."

John walked away. Damn that Gustaf and his smirk. Didn't he have anything
better to do than watch him? John stood in front of the array of machines. Ah,
back at last! But the last thing he wanted was to show Gustaf that he was
going to reduce his weights, at least at first. He knew he should. But there
was no way he wanted to do it in front of Gustaf. And Gustaf probably knew
that, which is why he was standing there, observing him. What an asshole.

John did a few warm-ups, a few stretches. He couldn't wait all day. He started
with some work on his legs. Wow! He HAD gone backwards. He managed just three
reps at his usual weight before his legs gave out. He stretched a bit more.
He'd really need a Stacy-massage after this workout. He smiled. One of her
"special" ones. She really knew how to get him hot, and she seemed to get into
the little game more and more as the months went by. She was pretty inventive
about making up stories for them, more so than he would have guessed when
they'd first met. She ought to try writing some stories for Diana's site.
Yeah, right!

He tried some situps, without using added resistance. He'd been doing a lot of
them to strengthen his back muscles, although not on the incline, and he felt
a twinge after the fifth one so he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye he
saw Gustaf eyeing him and grimaced. Well, fuck him.

He did a few more stretches and then sat down in front of the station for
two-arm curling. This was always his favorite exercise, the one that really
made his biceps pop. He looked down at his arms now with some distaste. He
hated the way his biceps had softened after the months of inactivity. It was
going to take a lot of time and work to get them back to the way they were. He
thought about Stacy's arms. It was amazing the way she was developing. She had
almost nothing when they first started going out. Now she could probably hold
her own in any fitness competition, maybe even a lightweight bodybuilding one.
She had these hard little balls of muscle that really stood out on her slender
frame, and they had a nice expansion and even a little peak. Like a smaller
version of his. The thought fluttered into his mind, "like his had been," and
then he pushed it out. No way. He still had good biceps. He just had to work
on firming them up again. Thinking about her arms was making him hard, but it
wasn't really the time for that now. Especially in his exercise shorts. With
Gustaf lingering nearby he set the weight -- to the usual amount -- grasped
the bar and slowly tensed his arms to bring it up. It was hard! He gripped it
more tightly and lifted and -- his whole back EXPLODED in pain. "AAAGGHHH!" he
said, unable to stop from saying out loud his cry of torment. He dropped the
weights with a loud clang and then he fell over onto the floor. All activity
stopped in the room and all eyes turned to him.

Gustaf hustled over. "Hey!! John! What was that!!" He looked down at him,
making sure it hadn't been a heart attack or something, then looked at the
machine. "Idiot! I TOLD you to lighten the weights!"

John closed his eyes in pain. It was all he could do to stop himself from
moaning out loud.

"Back, back everybody. Nothing to see. Just some guy who hasn't been working
out regularly overdoing it. Happens all the time."

John grit his teeth. "Damn you Gustaf!" he muttered. The spasms slowly ebbed
and he stood up, half bent.

"Looks like we're gonna need another letter John. Hmmm?" Gustaf sneered.
"Maybe you need some better physio."

John staggered away slowly, trying to ignore the stares from the other gym
rats. A long hot shower in the locker room dulled the pain, and by the time he
was dressed he felt almost normal again. He tentatively tried a few movements.
It was nowhere near as bad as it had been before. He almost wanted to go back
to the weight room to try a few more exercises. But not with Gustaf there.
He'd have to go back to physio, get checked out again, get another fucking
letter. What a disaster!

18

"That must have been horrible!" Stacy exclaimed. "And you had been looking
forward so much to getting back to the gym! How long are you going to have to
wait now?"

John looked at her glumly. "At least three weeks. I need more X-rays first,
rest, and then she wants to monitor my exercise, so we have to book a slot at
a clinic that can measure the stress the lifting puts on my back. It seems
like overkill to me. I just tried to do too much the first day."

Stacy put her hand on his shoulder sympathetically. "I know. But I guess you
have to do it. The club won't let you use the weight room without another
letter from her, will they?"

"Sure as hell not. Damn them and that Gustaf."

Stacy nodded. "I bet you want a massage, huh honey? A special one?"

"I don't know. Yeah, maybe." Stacy was already stripping off her sweater and
loosening up. "You know, my back already is feeling better. Maybe I didn't
hurt it that badly this time" He stretched and bent down tentatively. "It's
amazing, but it doesn't hurt at all now."

"That's great, honey!"

John looked at her. "You are really getting muscular, you know that?"

She looked down at her upper arm a bit bashfully, wondering if he wanted to
see her flex her biceps. It had been a while since she'd shown them off for
him. Certainly a long while since he'd asked her to, when she'd just started
working out. Yet more than once when they were making love his hands found
their way to her upper arms, squeezing them as he worked their bodies to their
orgasms. He was still so good in bed, even though his back was even now not
completely healed. She really was very lucky to have him. Even if the slump in
his business didn't end.

Funny how, even with him getting her to act out his fantasies, he was shy
about asking to see her biceps for real. She had a feeling he looked at them
on the sly. She bet that he looked out of the corner of his eye while she was
drying or brushing her hair in the morning after her shower. Or while she
hooked her bra and put on her jewelery. Usually he was still in bed sleeping
when she was getting ready in the morning, but she felt sometimes he was just
pretending. More than once she'd spotted his eyes open, watching her. That
always gave her a thrill -- that he found her body interesting enough to sneak
a look. And she made sure always to reward him with an extra flex or two later
in the morning, making it seem accidental. That's probably what she should do
now. Jeannie always told her men got more out of a second of what they weren't
supposed to see than an hour of what they felt they could see at any time.
Jeannie was so wise -- like she was 28 centuries old rather than 28 years!

Anyway, it was probably for the best not to show John too much of her biceps
just now -- anything more than a quick flex -- until he started working out
again. She wasn't really sure how he'd react if he really had a close look.
They'd gotten a LOT bigger with all the exercise she'd been doing, after all,
and with John not able to really work out, he might start to feel just a
little bit bad about it -- whatever his fantasies were. Of course, she knew
just how big HIS were from giving him his massages. She knew well that they
weren't what they used to be. Not in size. Not in hardness. And most likely
not in strength.

"Oh, I don't know," she replied. "You know that even when girls work out they
don't get really big. Not like guys do."

John looked at her closely, his eyes dropping down for a quick peak at the
bulges in her upper arms. "Yeah, I guess not."

He stripped to his shorts and lay on the massage table he had bought. Already
he was tingling with anticipation. What would Stacy come up with this time?
More than once he had thought of himself as the Sultan in the 1001 Nights,
with Stacy as a modern-day, imaginative Scheherazade.

Stacy smiled. How open he was to her. How natural it all was. How "domestic."
Like it would go on forever.

She planned her session, her hands probing his muscles while her mind sorted
through story lines, balancing the familiar and the unexpected, the themes she
knew would entertain and arouse him and the plot that would make it new all
over again. Dear John. His bodybuilder's build was long gone. He was still
bigger than most men, but his muscle had lost its definition, the quality of
being separate from his body, with its own life and energy. She rubbed his
lats and shoulders lovingly. It was him she was massaging now, not his
muscles. Did he know that? Did he understand? She doubted it. It wasn't the
kind of thing a man would feel. He'd know the size of his muscles, how hard
they felt, how much he could lift. He might even know the same about her -- if
she ever told him. Which she wouldn't. Not in a thousand years. Except in a
story. In the stories she told him again and again without his really
understanding, but the stories aroused him, connected him to her. They were
stories he never seemed to tire of. She hoped he never would.

"So," she said, rubbing his muscles, "I bet you had a really tough game
today."

"Uh-huh," he said with a contented sigh. He never had to think too much in
these scenarios. He just had to agree.

"I was watching the whole game on my little TV, in my little studio apartment.
Not like this place, with all your bedrooms, your home media center, your own
weight machines, and all your fancy things. I guess that's what you get from
being such a good athlete, from being a star."

"That's right," he mumbled. He liked that idea. She was so good at this.

"You make three million a year -- that's what the papers say -- and you can
have any girl you want. They can't resist you. Not just because you're rich
and famous, but also because of your gorgeous body. They love your huge,
powerful muscles. They make a girl feel so safe, so well-protected. Like
nothing bad could ever happen to her while she's with you. Girls like to feel
safe, you know, 'cause all kinds of things can happen to girls. And they're so
weak compared to men, especially compared to men like you. There's nothing a
girl could do to protect herself from a man as strong as you are."

"I guess not, but ...."

"Sssshh. I'm sure you would never take advantage of a girl, never use your
strength to hurt her. Right?"

"That's right. Absolutely." He was already getting hard, anticipating where
she was going with this.

"You must have worked hard for this body, lifting weights, running, eating
right. You must feel you deserve it, deserve the admiration you get."

"Well, sure. I mean, it's my body."

"Sure it is." She was working on his shoulders and his arms now, poor John.
"But still, you have an advantage. You're a man. A woman could work out as
hard as you, harder even, and still not get nearly as strong."

"No. I guess not."

"I'm strong, you know. You have to be, even as a woman, to be a good masseuse.
I was an athlete in school too, like you, the best in my school in fact, but
while the guys got full scholarships for football and basketball, they never
gave as much to girls. Not where I grew up. Besides, my Dad, he always
discouraged me. Just when I was getting good he decided he wouldn't even let
me work out. Made me quit sports senior year. He said I was getting muscles,
and a girl shouldn't have muscles that showed."

"Aww, that's too bad. I like muscles on a girl." Funny how easily he admitted
that now, at least to Stacy.

"Oh really?" She was pleased he just came out and said that. But it didn't go
with the story. "But I bet in high school, in college, you never dated a girl
with muscles. You probably looked for soft girls with big titties. Huh?"

"Well ... yeah. I guess."

"And even now, would you date a girl with muscles as big as yours? No. Not AS
big. Bigger! How would you feel, knowing she was the one with the power? If
she was the one who had to protect you? Because you were weak, so weak that
anyone in a crowd could jostle you, push you over, take away what little you
could carry, bend your soft little arms backward if he or she -- yes she --
wanted to." Stacy knew she was piling it on thick, but lately John seemed to
like it that way. And she could see by the way he was laying on the table that
he was as fully aroused as he could be. Oh good! She was getting so good at
this!

"I --

"Sshh! I'm sorry. I'm supposed to relax you and here I am, getting you all
worked up. Now you relax, Mr. All Star. Let me take care of you like you
deserve. You've had a hard day, working that body, those muscles so hard. Now
you can relax them, make them soft, hmmm? That's it. All soft and relaxed. And
I can help. I can make them all soft for you, right?"

John's dick was throbbing with desire. He wanted to pull her down on top of
him right then. But he couldn't. Not now. Not when she was just getting to the
good part. "Yeah, right," he replied.

Suddenly she gripped his biceps very firmly. "Make them soft," she said
quietly, fervently, almost like a prayer, and playing along John did as she
said. "That's right," she continued in the same tone. "That's right. So soft,
so weak," she said even more quietly. A chill went down his spine. He turned
slightly, worried that any pressure on his dick would make him come. "Good.
Very good."

John waited. Where was she going with this? He thought he knew but he wanted
to hear her say it.

"Now. Can you feel it? Can you feel the change? Can you feel the difference?
'Cause now I have what I wanted. And you don't. Now I have the strength of a
man. And not just any man. I have the strength of the most powerful runner in
football. And you don't! Look at my muscles! How they bulge even before I
begin to flex them. They look even bigger on me than they did on you! What,
you say? You don't believe me? Just try to flex your biceps! See? No matter
what you do, your arms stay small and soft. Ha! Look at you strain your
pathetic arms. Nothing happens! Now look at mine! Look how my proud biceps
bunch up and rise high! And not just my biceps. I've got hard bulging muscle
all over. And the strength that goes with it!" Stacy felt hot too, just
thinking of her body like that, so strong. Not that her arms were anything to
be ashamed of now, but she loved imagining the reality of the strength she
gave herself in her stories.

Now Stacy put one hand in the center of John's back and pushed him down more
firmly. "Just try to get up. Ha! Imagine, I, your little $30 per hour girlie
masseuse, now can EASILY pin you with just one hand! You're HELPLESS! Are you
even pushing against me? Is THIS the man who just hours ago threw off tackles
from the toughest players in the NFL? If only they could see you now! So weak
and defenseless. Completely ay MY mercy!"

"Oh god, Stacy! Wait. Wait!!" John was pulling on her arm to let him turn, but
Stacy, deep in her story, resisted and just held him down more firmly, leaving
him still flat on the table.

"You can't stop me. You can't do anything except what I want you to do and --

"Stacy, stop. I'm gonna come. I can't ... ohhhhh!" John's whole body shuddered
and he spurted out a torrent of come.

"Jeez Stacy! I TOLD you I was coming."

That broke the spell.

"Oh gosh, John, I didn't realize. I thought we were ...." The realization of
what had just happened, of what she had just done hit her and she shut her
mouth, unsure whether John realized. She mustn't say anything. "We, uh, can
just take a shower together. By the time we're done --

"Yeah, Stacy. I just had the same idea," John interrupted, swinging to his
feet and pulling her by the arm to the shower. She went right along, without a
shred of resistance.

John thought he could already feel the tinglings of his next erection.

19 June -- Year 3

He felt a bit strange being strapped to so many wires, but his frustration was
so great he was willing to try anything -- within reason. Ms. Muselhi signaled
him and he began the leg presses. No problem, although he still found the loss
of strength from his long period of inactivity maddening. The sit-ups were
also fine. Then she turned her attention to his upper body. He wanted to go
right to curls, but she insisted on lat pulldowns first. Fine. He gripped the
bar above his head, very conscious of his form, and started pulling. It was
like someone fired a stun gun directly into his back and he let go, crying out
in pain. He stood for a few moments. Ms. Muselhi was looking at the screens,
writing notes furiously. Then she must have realized that he had screamed. She
put down her pen and turned her head.

"Oh, I am very sorry Mr. Rose! Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he said, a bit annoyed at her lack of sympathy. These professional
women. Put a white coat on them and they become ....

"I was just ... it is very interesting. Are you able to try another exercise?
Or is the pain too much?"

He took a breath. "It seems to pass quickly. I can do it."

"Good," she said. "I am sure this is very hard for you."

He hated that falsely cheerful, condescending tone. Do they teach that at
physio school or whatever they called it? Exercising wasn't tough at all. It
was not being ABLE to exercise that was getting to him. He looked at his
biceps. It would take months of hard work to get them back to the way they
should be, and he'd have to listen to Gustaf's taunts the whole time. He'd
say, in a voice loud enough for everyone in the gym to hear, "Hey, lighten
those weights for John. He can't do that much anymore." Or he'd spot him,
exaggerating his "concern" that John would drop the bar. It was enough to make
him want to change gyms. THAT was the answer! And that would solve another
problem for him, one that he didn't want to admit even to himself. It was
Stacy. He couldn't believe how dedicated she was now to weight-training. Nor
could he believe the results she was getting. Her body was practically
bursting with muscle. She didn't like to show off for him -- maybe she was shy
about them -- but he had felt them many times and he knew she liked to flex
them too. But only when he wasn't looking. Even with all the work she was
doing to build up her body she probably still didn't believe he truly found
her muscles attractive. He would never understand the female mind!

But then, her body mystified him too. Who would have guessed she could gain so
much muscle! He loved the look, loved touching her in bed, feeling the hard
curves on her arms, the cords of muscle on her neck and shoulders, the power
of her abs as she clutched against him when she came. That was great. But she
was in perfect shape now, her strength and endurance honed to perfection by
almost two years of daily exercise. There was no way he'd be able to keep up
with her at first, and he knew she'd want them to work out together. It was
different when she had just started. Then he could have shown her what to do,
and show off his strength at the same time. But not now.

"Ahem. Uh, Mr. Rose? Are you ready?"

Shit. That damn Muselhi. "Sorry. Just preparing myself. You know. For the
pain."

"That is what I am trying to help you with -- unless this is too much for you
to do."

John grit his teeth. Who was she kidding?! Or was this supposed to motivate
him? Fuck her. He didn't need that kind of help from her. What he needed was
for her to get rid of his pain. He could do all the rest. "Yeah. Let's go." He
grabbed the bar again, very conscious of the sensors attached to this biceps
and various points across his back and up and down his spine, the wires
leading from him back to her and then plugged into her console. Her fingers
were poised on the keyboard. For a brief moment he felt like he was a
marionette, ready to be played by her. Or worse, like he was a character in
one of those amazon-fiction stories and she was about to suck out his strength
and transfer it to another character. Hah! Well, fuck that.

He tensed his muscles and pulled. "AAAGGGHHH!!!!!" he cried out in agony.

"See if you can hold it," she shouted. "A little longer." She typed at the
keyboard. "Only another few ... ok. You may let go."

Almost in tears, John released the bar and knelt on the floor. He had never
felt such pain. What kind of sadist was she? He was twisted in a knot but
slowly he felt the pain ebb. His breathing returned to normal. Fuck. If that
was some kind of test, he knew he'd failed it.

She was still twirling the dials when he felt able to get up. "So, any more
torture for me today?"

She looked at him blankly. "Torture? I do not understand. Oh! You mean the
exercise? No. I have the data I need." John waited, but she went back to the
console. "You can go home now," she said without looking up.

"Excuse me, but aren't you going to tell me what you found out?"

"I should first discuss this with your orthopedist. He must first look at the
data and my opinion and then he will talk to your intern, or to you directly
if you prefer."

"Just a minute! I'm the one paying you! I'm the one going through hell here! I
want to know what's going on!"

She flushed red -- as red as her dark complexion allowed. "It is your
insurance that is paying, Mr. Rose," she said coolly.

"My INSURANCE! Listen you ...." John tried to calm himself. "You have to
understand. I've been going through this for ten months. I HAVE to know what's
going on!"

She looked at him steadily, calming herself. "I do not take orders from my
patients." She breathed evenly. "Well, if you are so interested in what I
think, I will give you my opinion. I do not like the opinion of your doctor.
It is my opinion -- just my opinion -- that you have a slight pinched nerve in
your vertebrae. It apparently does not bother you normally -- at least not yet
-- but it is aggravated by the stress you place on your upper body when you
tense the muscles of your arms and shoulders. I do not believe there will be
anything further I can do for you now, sir. Some doctors might recommend
surgery. But I do not know about that."

John took it in, trying to absorb the implications of what she was saying. "So
you're saying this spondylolysis thing isn't right? You're saying it's a
pinched nerve that only hurts when I work out? That's crazy! How can such a
thing -- never mind. But you think that surgery can make a difference," he
said, relieved that at least he had options.

"No. I did not say that." Ms. Muselhi looked at him evenly, betraying no
emotion. "I cannot speak for your doctor. I am only predicting what some
doctors will say. It is my experience that doctors like to cut. To please you
and increase their fees, they will tell you to get surgery. It will give you
hope, but I think it will do no good at all. And there are risks. Serious
risks."

"What kind of risks?"

"I see cases like yours many times. The doctors do their work in one day and
get their very large fees, and then they send their patient to me. I work with
them for months. Only rarely do they improve as their doctor promised. And who
do they blame? Not the doctor!"

"Ms. Muselhi! I asked you a question!"

"Oh yes, about the risks?" She shrugged. "More pain. Even less muscular
function. Possible paralysis. Possible loss of erection. I have seen many
problems. But I am not a doctor. You must talk with your doctor. He will tell
you what to do and as he is a 'doctor' you will do it."

"I have three doctors! One says spondylolysis. One says muscle spasms. The
third isn't a specialist and so he agrees with the first guy. And now you say
something different completely! I don't understand! I just twisted my back!
That's all! Why can't you help me? Why can't anyone help me?!!"

"I do what I can. But there is fate too. It may be that you have a weakness.
Sooner or later it would have asserted itself. You were in good condition and
that helped to put it off. For a while. But now it has come out. If you
continue to strengthen your back as I have instructed you will have many years
of normal function. You can be grateful for that. You will still be able to
maintain good muscle tone in other parts of your body, as you are now able to
resume exercises for your back, your legs, your abdomen. If you want, I can
recommend ...."

John had stopped listening. He looked at his arms. She was saying he wouldn't
be able to exercise his arms. He wouldn't be able to work his biceps back into
shape. The biceps that had made him so proud. Soon they would become ordinary.
And even worse!

Ms. Muselhi followed his eyes and raised one eyebrow. "Ah yes, your biceps."
Hearing the words snapped him back to attention. "I know you are a
bodybuilder." John started to protest but she shook her head. "Never mind.
Like most men you are very proud of your biceps. That is all very well, of
course, but now it is changed. You have to be careful not to put too much
strain on your shoulders. You will risk too much. Pain and maybe other damage
as I have said. Of course in the end it is for you to decide. I will not write
another letter to your gym. That would be irresponsible of me, but I cannot
prevent you from purchasing your own equipment. That is up to you." She
smiled. "I say to you only that you must be careful to preserve the abilities
you still have. You are not a manual laborer. You can still practice your
trade. For my brothers in Yemen this type of injury would be the end of their
lives. And disaster for their wives and children, who would have to become
beggars so that the family could eat. Even for me here. I need strength in my
arms to work. As I understand your line of work, you need only to write and to
speak. That you can do without pain and for this you should be thankful."

"So, you're telling me that nothing can be done?" An image passed before
John's eyes of his arms, shrunken and soft, barely able to tote his bag of
presentation books from meeting to meeting, while pert, chirpy secretaries
offer to "help" him with his things, effortlessly walking with a load that
would stagger his ever weakening muscles, getting softer and smaller with each
passing month.

Ms. Muselhi shrugged. "You don't like what I say? Well then. Talk to your
doctor. Maybe he will find someone else with a new idea. Or maybe you can try
acupuncture. Or Chinese medicine. Or homeopathy." John stared at her angrily.
"I'm sorry. I don't know magic. I work with bodies, but to be honest, some
bodies just do not work. And so my patients must learn to do the best they
can, and with this I try to help too. You go find another doctor. Perhaps he
will tell you what you want to hear. But afterward, maybe, you will remember
what I said. And now, you will excuse me. I must write my report." She smiled
briefly and then began to work, leaving John to dress and make his way home.

20

Two weeks later, after a consultation with a third specialist, John was
sitting with his internist again. "So, what did you think of Dr. Minsky?"

"A little strange, to be honest, Gary."

Dr. Milner nodded. "Yes. Many people think so. He is brilliant, you know, but
he definitely does not have a good rapport with patients."

"He wouldn't tell me anything. Just asked question after question. I thought I
was being psychoanalyzed."

Gary chuckled. "Well, you were. He has a dual qualification, you know. A bit
strange in this day and age, and there isn't much demand for psychoanalysis
anymore. We all would rather take pills. Or go for shorter term treatments.
That's why Minsky developed a second specialty in treating cases like yours.
But in my opinion he still would rather practise psychiatry."

"Why did you send me to him then? There must be hundreds of good back
specialists in New York."

"I did because he's one of the best, and sometimes his unconventional views
turn up something no one else would think of."

"And is this one of those times?"

"Hmmmm. Maybe. I don't know. He thinks you might have spondylolysis. Or you
might not. But in his view it doesn't matter because he doesn't think that is
the cause of your pain."

John frowned. "OK. You've lost me."

"Well .... He thinks the problem may be psychosomatic." The internist paused,
letting the words sink in, knowing John would not be at all receptive.

"He thinks I'm crazy?! Well fuck that! I'm not even going to pay the BILL for
that kind of loony advice. If he thinks I'm --

"John. He didn't say you were crazy. Hear me out. It's actually very
interesting. You told Dr. Minsky about your frustration, about your pain,
about what you've tried to do, about the massage treatments your girlfriend
gives you -- which I didn't know about, I may say. You also dropped a few
remarks about her exercise program and how you feel about that. Now I don't
want to pry about anything you don't want to tell me, but the answers you gave
Minsky led him to conclude that you -- or a part of you at least -- actually
don't want to exercise. That you want to become weaker and to let your
girlfriend become stronger than you are."

John was becoming redder and redder. He stood up and shouted, waving his arms
around then grimaced and sat down. "Damn it, Gary! You're crazier than HE is.
You've known me for six years! How can you say that! You know how I feel about
being in shape! You think I WANT this?! You think I WANT my muscles to turn
into blubber?!!"

Gary watched him calmly. "To a psychiatrist, this behavior would be called
'resistance'." He paused a moment while John fumed. "I know that consciously
this is just about the last thing in the world you would want. Psychiatrists
believe that the mind is more complex than that, as you must know. Now,
psychiatric treatment isn't for everyone and this is certainly not a problem
you NEED to have treated. Even if there were no doubt at all about Minsky's
diagnosis, no one is going to have you committed because you can't work out.
And as I've said, this is just an interesting theory. Even Minsky would need
to do a lot more work with you to satisfy himself that he is correct, let
alone to satisfy you. But if he IS right, psychiatric treatment may be the
only way to 'cure' you. That is," he said with a smile, "assuming you want to
be cured."

John almost exploded in anger. "You're going too FAR with this Gary. I'm
warning you!" He stood up.

Gary laughed and held up his hand. "I'm sorry John. Really. I thought you
might find it interesting. We can talk about other medical options, of course.
Surgery for example. There are risks to surgery, John, and I won't recommend
it if I don't think it might help you. The problem is: nothing definitive
shows up on the X-rays or on your MRI, so it would just be exploratory at
first. Even after surgery we might not find out what's wrong. You have to
consider the possibility at least that Minsky's right or that, even if he's
wrong, we can't find the problem. It does happen in medicine, you know,
especially with back pain."

John shifted uneasily. "I see. And what if the operation goes wrong? What if
it leaves me able to do even less than I can now?"

"I think that's a possibility with any kind of surgery, but an unlikely one.
As with any kind of surgery at first there'll be discomfort and soreness,
sure. But that will pass quickly and we'll get you on a good physio program,
perhaps with Ms. Muselhi if you like her. I'm not suggesting by any means that
you give up. Hopefully we'll be able to find whatever's limiting your use of
your muscles. Your insurance will cover everything -- I've already checked --
so don't worry about the cost."

"Your fee too?"

"Why, yes. So you needn't worry about that. I know the year's been a tough one
for you, John. Good move to keep up your health insurance, though. You'd have
a tough time getting a new policy now."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for your concern. I'll think about it. By the way, what
DID you think about the report from the physio?"

The doctor chuckled. "Oh I don't know. She's very thorough with the equipment
she used. More than she needed to be I'd say. She must have put you through
hell. But she hasn't FOUND the problem. All she's done is document your
reactions. Her inference MAY be correct, but it's just an inference."

"Uh-huh. But do you think she's right? About the pinched nerve?"

He shrugged. "It's a possibility like any other. The main thing is her work
doesn't give us enough to go on to take corrective action. Which nerve? Where?
And why? We'd have to do a lot more tests to get the answers to those
questions and we'd most likely find it isn't a pinched nerve at all. John, if
we do surgery I'll make sure you're in the best hands. And we won't torture
you like Muselhi. But any kind of work on the spine has to be done carefully.
We don't want any surprises, John. And neither do you."

"No. I sure don't. Thanks." He stood up and the doctor stood too. John put out
his hand and gripped his doctor's, managing not to cry out in pain.

21 June -- Year 4

"So when do you think you'll be back?" Stacy asked, helping him fold his
clothes into his bag. "I'm going to really miss you. We haven't been apart
even for one night since the wedding."

John handed her another shirt and looked admiringly at the movement of the
muscles in her thick forearm. "Probably just two days. I don't have my hopes
too high, but I can't pass up the opportunity. Getting the MeGaCo account back
would be a real help. With that one and a few others I could quit my job and
go back to consulting free time."

Stacy pushed the suitcase shut, knowing John would use the occasion to watch
her triceps bulge. She took every opportunity to show off her muscles for him,
surreptitiously, just by doing everyday things. He never seemed to tire of it,
and she never took his interest for granted. She knew full well there were
plenty of muscular women around in New York and even more on the internet.
"That would be great, honey. And since we're married you don't need the job
for health insurance anymore. My plan's pretty good."

"Yeah. Well, I don't know what will come of this. It's not as though I'm
coming in through the front door here." He watched Stacy carefully lower the
suitcase to the ground. She didn't have to do that. His back was much better
than it had been. Although those "wheelie" suitcases were heavy, and he loved
the way her careful lifting made her biceps pop. So why should he stop her?
His aggression transferred to another front. "You know, I really SHOULD have
sued them for the way they stole my ideas last time. I couldn't BELIEVE that
Harvard Business Review study actually gave THEM the credit for it. The ONLY
thing I can be thankful for is they didn't start selling it in their fucking
stores."

Stacy listened patiently. It WAS unfair, but John's lawyer had given him only
a 50-50 chance of winning. MeGaCo would have fought him every step of the way
and John would have risked losing everything, both his time and his money. The
publicity from the litigation would not have helped his relationships with his
other clients either.

"I'm a little surprised they even want to talk to me," John continued, less
heatedly, "but maybe this is some kind of admission that at least some of them
know they treated me badly. Maybe they just want to test my attitude toward
them, privately, before they meet with me more officially at the head office.
It wouldn't be a total surprise that they want the benefit of my latest work.
The stuff they stole is pretty old now." He smiled. "And with my new contract
there's no way they'll get away with what they did last time. This Lyn Martin
already said they'd sign it. -- IF there was something they think is worth
buying."

"And she's one of the special assistants to the President there," Stacy added
enthusiastically. "Although I don't really understand why, if she's so
important, she has to write you on her Hotmail account, without even using a
spell-check. I would be really embarrassed to send an email out like that. I
guess a lot of executives rely on their secretaries for spelling. But still,
can't their senior executives count on secretaries keeping their emails
confidential?"

"Not from their IT department. Of all people, you'd have to know the way the
IT staff can spy on the rest of the company."

"But we never, ever read emails. Unless HR tells us there's a problem with
misuse of the corporate systems."

"I'm just saying you COULD do it, that's all. Right?" Stacy nodded grudgingly.
"That's what she's worried about. Someone finding out about her talking to me
before they decide whether to settle up. Of course I am just guessing. She
didn't actually say that much in her note. But I have to think ahead."

"Well, your intuition is usually very good. You always said they'd come back
to you. And now look."

The buzzer rang. "That must be the airport van. I have to go. I'll call you
after the meeting and let you know how it goes. You know I don't even get to
Bentonville until late afternoon. The connections are terrible."

"I know, honey. Thanks! You know I'll be at Jeannie's tonight, so call me on
my cell phone, ok?" She put her arms around her husband and kissed him. Her
husband! She was so happy.

22

Stacy lay across one side of Jeannie's purple velvet-covered sofa and sipped
mint tea while she patted her stomach. "Mmmmm. That is so good. I can't
believe how much I ate. I'm going to have to work out twice as hard tomorrow!
I wish I had your metabolism!"

Jeannie raised her eyebrows just slightly. "You seem to do just fine with
yours, Stacy."

"Well, I guess I burn a lot more calories now that I have so much more muscle
than I used to. It really makes a difference." She looked down at her arm a
bit shyly. "John likes it too."

Jeannie stirred her tea, looked down at the swirling leaves and said, "I'm so
glad." She looked up at Stacy and continued, mischievously, "And do you think
being stronger than he is has changed your relationship very much? I mean,
other than getting married?"

Stacy almost spilled her tea as she quickly moved toward Jeannie on the other
side of the sofa and put her hand on her arm. "Jeannie! I am NOT stronger than
John! No way!"

Jeannie placed her hand on top of Stacy's, holding it there. "Really? Looking
at the two of you standing side-by-side at the wedding ceremony I had a
distinctly different impression." She let go and while Stacy seemed frozen in
shock Jeannie traced her finger gently up Stacy's arm, along the prominent
bump of her biceps. "You told me John still hasn't gone back to his gym. And
you certainly haven't gotten any smaller in the six months since then," she
added, pressing her finger lightly onto that bump. She withdrew her hand and
brushed her blond hair back.

Stacy's jaw dropped. "No, no, no! He -- you mean THAT's what people think?!"
she said, suddenly upset.

"No one said anything, Stacy, if that's what's worrying you," Jeannie said
reassuringly, leaning back again on the opposite cushion. "They all commented
on your lovely dress, how you seemed to be floating in a cloud, and envying
you for your trim waistline. And for John."

"Are you sure?" Jeannie nodded. "Oh thank goodness! If he thought that other
people thought --

"Yes, but what does HE think about it?" Jeannie asked.

"He ... I don't know! We don't talk about it! But he MUST know, right?"

"Know what?" Jeannie asked feigning innocence. "Oh come on, Stacy. Talk to
me."

"I guess I can tell you, of all people." Stacy looked up at the ceiling and
then back at her friend. "Well ... I've thought I was stronger than he is for
a long while. I mean," she lowered her voice, "my muscles ARE growing. A lot.
Anybody can see that. And getting stronger too. And his," she closed her lips,
as if she were deciding, "well, they're smaller. He doesn't exercise. He
can't. So, I mean, it's just natural, what happens, isn't it?" Jeannie was
watching her intently. "It's really funny sometimes. We don't talk about it.
But he loves these stories I make up, and in the stories I just get stronger
and stronger all the time. Like in real life, but more exaggerated. He loves
hearing about it in the stories. He loves touching my muscles. He looks at
them all the time. Which really makes me feel good. You know, proud,
attractive." She laughed, "'Loved' too, I guess. But he'd NEVER say something
like, 'Gee Stacy, your muscles are really big,' or "I just love your big,
bulging biceps,' or 'Hey Stacy, I'm having a little trouble moving this sofa.
Would you give me a hand?' I think he'd rather die," she concluded, laughing
awkwardly.

"So, what does he do? I mean, they ARE big, Stacy. It's kind of hard not to
notice them. You don't get undressed with the lights out, do you? Or just wear
baggy sweatshirts around him?"

"Of course not! I just don't, you know, make a big deal about my being
stronger."

"But it must be so obvious."

"I don't know. It's not like it comes up a lot. Not like if we lived on a farm
or something and had to do real physical work. Mostly we just work on our
computers or eat or watch TV or go out together. Or make love."

"Doesn't he notice it then?"

"I don't KNOW. He doesn't exactly TELL me what he's thinking while we're
making love, or even after -- although I wish he would. And I've never done
anything to make him admit I'm stronger. I mean, I don't pick him up and throw
him onto the bed or hold him down. I'd never force him to have sex."

"Well, good for you on that score. But otherwise it's like I said before, for
John a women's strength is just another way for him to experience her as a
sexual object. The two of you go all out to prevent your superior strength
from affecting the power balance in your relationship. You're the stronger
one, but the only way it comes out is his use of your muscles to feed his
fetish and to help him live out his own fantasies. Otherwise it's as if
nothing has changed."

"No, no! You're wrong, Jeannie. There's a big change. We're married now. And
we're happy. And I really don't need him to acknowledge that I'm stronger than
he is. Like, when we were on our honeymoon, I watched him struggle with one of
the carry-ons, putting it up on the luggage compartment. And when we were
leaving the plane I was the one who took it down. And it was easy for me. Of
course, it is easier to take it down than to get it up there. But still.
Anyway, I didn't say anything and he didn't either. There's no reason to, is
there?" Jeannie grinned mischievously. "Don't YOU start anything!" Stacy said,
laughing.

"I'm just teasing you, Stacy. Of course the most important thing is that
you're happy."

"And it's not just the marriage. It's my job too. I've had three promotions in
the past year. I'm learning new things all the time and I really love my job
now. Honestly, I think having these muscles has made me more confident and
successful too." She paused for a moment. "And you know, with John's business
in a little downturn, I even made more money than he did last year!"

"Really? So maybe you will change the power balance. Money means more than
muscle, after all. If you keep this up, he's going to have to be the one
staying home and changing the diapers when you have kids!"

"Jeannie!"

"And YOU'RE the one who'll have to protect HIM when you're walking on a dark
street!" She smiled at the thought and got a faraway look in her eyes.

"You'd better cut it out!" Stacy jokingly made a fist and flexed her right
arm, producing a very impressive 16" muscle.

"Whoa! Look at that!" Jeannie said, laughing. "John must think he died and
went to heaven!"

"Yeah, I guess so," Stacy said, laughing and admiring it herself. "Hey,
speaking of which, he should have called already. His flight landed hours ago.
I can't believe he's still in a meeting. Unless it's gone really well!" She
turned serious for a moment. "Or unless something's happened to him."
Meanwhile she thought to herself, he couldn't possibly be with that MaeLynn
woman. He wouldn't dare!

Jeannie smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure he's fine, Stacy. You know how bad he
always was at phoning you when he was away on business."

"I know. Still, I wish he'd call."

23 A few hours earlier

John wheeled his bag across the airport tarmac. If Little Rock had seemed
small, the "Northwest Arkansas Regional Airport" at Bentonville was more like
a toy. How could any self-respecting company be located here! What kind of
people could live in a place like this, much less work here! Ugh! There were a
few people lounging around the waiting room, a fat lady talking to her fatter
husband and some grizzled men chewing the fat over what was no doubt
indescribably awful coffee. John searched in vain for driver holding a sign
with his name on it. Nothing. And this place wasn't even large enough to lose
someone. He stepped outside into the heat and walked the 100' or so to the
road passing the terminal and peered around, then walked up and down.

A woman in an old car called out to him. "You John Rose?"

He stopped and bent down to look into the car. "Lyn? Lyn Martin?"

She shook her head, taking some time to look him over. "She sent me for yuh.
A'm her drahver today," she said with a smile. "Get on in. A'll take yuh raht
theah."

John looked disapprovingly at the back seat, half of which was filled with
junk. The passenger side in the front was no better. THIS was the car and
driver they'd sent for him?! There was no WAY he was going let them treat him
this way. More MeGaCo mind games, trying to diminish him from the start. Well,
if it came to this, he'd turn down the job. His pride had taken enough of a
beating the first time he worked for them. Still, he'd traveled this far. He
might as well meet this Lyn Martin and see what she had to offer. That
decided, he squeezed into the back and put his bag on top of the maps,
shopping bags, baseball gloves on the seat, and pushed the (undoubtedly)
broken microwave oven on the floor further away from him with his feet.

"Don't mahnd that. Ah've been fixin to take it dahn to mah cousin Jake's but
haven't been out his way for awhahl." John mumbled an ok in reply and closed
the door. "Nope, not closed yet. Yuh have to slam it real hard." John did it a
couple more times, finally putting everything into it. "There yuh go! OK.
We're off!" She pulled away with a squeal of the tires that pushed John back
into his seat. He took note that there were no seat belts anywhere in the car.

They settled on a road away from the town. After the road quickly lost its
newness and settled into a two lane highway, John asked, "Just how far are we
going?"

"Oh, aways. Miz Lyn lahks her space."

"Oh, so we're going to her house?"

"It's jus a place she's usin'. You'll see raht soon enough."

John settled back impatiently, not enjoying the twists and turns through the
hills. They turned off the road onto a smaller road then another and another
and then finally onto a rutty dirt road, which didn't induce his driver to
slow down one bit.

"Sorry 'bout the road. S'not much further down." They finally stopped at the
end of the road and she got out. "Come on. We've got to walk through the woods
now."

"The woods? Are you crazy?" John sat in the car, refusing to open the door,
while the woman stood outside. "This is crazy," he repeated, rolling down the
window.

"Waal, this is how we live out here. It's a big place an' it's private. That's
what we do when he can." She stood with her arms folded. "OK. Miz Lyn said I
was to take you back if you wouldn't come. No skin off mah nose." She started
to go back to the car.

"No, wait. OK." John kicked the door open and took his bag. "How far?"

"Far enough so yuh cain't hear the traffic."

John looked down the dirt road. Traffic? She went into the woods and John
followed, pulling his bag over the ground as best as he could, his shoes and
pants quickly getting soiled from the mud. After nearly twenty minutes and
several turns they came out into a clearing and John saw a modest farmhouse.
"That's it. Lyn's waitin for yuh insahd."

John grimaced, "Yeah, well thanks." He took out his wallet and handed her a
five.

"Hey thanks!" She took it and to John's surprise immediately turned around. So
would Lyn take him back herself? Perhaps a good sign then. He walked up a
clumpy path to the front door slowly, carrying the heavy case to avoid the
soft mud, knocked, and when there was no answer he pushed it open slowly and
went inside. Hello? Hello?" he called, feeling annoyed again. He walked
further into the house. "This is really pathetic!" he muttered to himself as
he looked at the faded paint of the walls, the chipped furniture, the ancient
kitchen. Not even a computer around, or a television or stereo of any recent
vintage. This couldn't be where the Assistant to --

"My sweet Rose!"

John turned around. He didn't see her but he knew that voice. Mae-Lynn's
voice.

"Well I finally got you back. It took some doing, but you came."

"So you're 'Lyn Martin'! Mae-Lynn, Lyn Martin. Sheesh!"

"Yeah, that's me," Mae said, her head appearing in the hall from the front of
the house. "Johnny Rose. After all this time."

"Damn it!" John stamped his foot angrily. "I can't believe you got me to come
all the way out to this place for nothing."

"It's not for nothing. I've been wanting to see you for a long time." She
looked at him more closely. "I thought you looked different when I saw you
coming up the walk. You're smaller somehow, aren't you?" she asked, a small
smile forming on her lips.

"Yeah, maybe. I hurt my back a while back. It's better now, but I haven't
really worked out much for more than a year -- almost two. Look, Mae-Lynn, it
was a great week we had together, but that's long over. I'm married now and
all I really want to is get back to New York, back to my work and back to my
wife. Now are you going to take me back to the airport, or do I have to call a
car?" Mae-Lynn laughed. "Right. I get it." He looked around. "I'll be damned
if I can find a phone book here." She just watched him. "Or a phone."

"That's right. No phone," she chirped happily.

"Fine. So you're not going to help me, huh?" He glared at her and pulled out
his cell phone. "Damn, there's no signal out here."

"Uh uh. Not for miles around neither. So unless you paid real good attention
to the turns and want to try to walk, you're stuck here 'til I decide to take
you back," she said triumphantly.

"Mae-Lynn! This isn't funny."

"Not for you maybe, but definitely for me."

"Well fuck it, Mae-Lynn, and fuck you! Then I'll fucking walk back if I have
to." He grabbed the handle of the case and started striding down the hall with
determination, rolling his case behind him.

"I don't think you should try it, Johnny," Mae-Lynn said confidently. She
stepped into the hallway in front of the door and stood with her hands on her
hips. John looked up at her and stopped short, about six feet away. "Hmmm?"
she said. "Notice something?"

John stared at her in utter shock. Stacy's development over the past years had
amazed him, but Mae-Lynn made Stacy look like a waif. Her chest was so wide
and deep that it was though her shirt were packed with softballs. Her
shoulders were the same, and her arms had so much muscle that had she been
wearing sleeves John would have assumed she had padded them. She put her hands
together and pressed lightly, making her biceps bunch a little. "I'll save the
full muscle show for you later, Johnny, but if you want to feel how strong I
am right now, you just keep coming and try to get through me," she said,
grinning. She flexed her pecs several times, pushing her tight shirt out and
in while she waited for John's reaction.

His eyes couldn't help themselves. They traced the outlines of her arms,
looping the curves of her still outsized breasts that sat atop her pecs, then
traveled down to her legs, thickened and ridged with muscle, each of her
thighs as wide as her muscled waist.

"Well, I think I got the beginnings of your attention now." She walked slowly
toward him and put her hand lightly on his chest, then pushed him into the
wall with one arm and held him there with her forearm across his chest. "You
use those 'wheelie' things now? Well no way you're gonna walk with it that
easy!" She kicked his suitcase.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" he said as her next powerful kick
buckled the casing. The third split it, scattering his change of clothes and
his papers onto the floor.

He struggled to push her arm away using both his arms. "Oh, Johnny! You HAVE
gotten weak! I'm hardly even trying! Let me show you."

"Agggh! he cried out as she pushed harder into his chest, all of his efforts
to push her away amounting to nothing. "I can't ... you're crush --

She let up. "Yeah! That was maybe half my strength. I'm really looking forward
to showing off more of it later." She eased up on the pressure while leaving
his arm on his chest and he coughed, leaning limply against the wall and tried
to catch his breath. "Awww, poor little Johnny," she said with pretended
concern. She reached down with her other hand and felt his crotch. "What's
this? I know you like muscle. Did I scare you too much for you to get it up
for me? Maybe you need THIS to get you going." She cocked her arm in front of
his face and started flexing, the great ball of muscle rising steadily, higher
and higher, looming larger and larger before him. "Yeah, Johnny. Just look at
it grow. I can make it bigger still. All I have to do is flex. Have you ever
seen biceps so big? Isn't it just like I've absorbed your strength, Johnny?
Like those little games I used to play to get you hot? Look at it, Johnny.
Look at that muscle. It's getting bigger and bigger, Johnny, all the time. I'm
getting so strong. And you're so weak. You're getting weaker and weaker; your
muscles are turning into mush. Ha-ha! Well what do you know! That's all it
took. You've got it up already!" She started rubbing him through his pants
while she flexed.

"Stop that. Stop!"

Mae-Lynn just laughed and pushed roughly against John's cock. "Beg me. I want
to hear you beg!" She put her hand between his legs and lifted him in the air.
"Yeah. We're going to have a lot of fun together. Me and you."

"Mae-Lynn, you're making a big mistake here. Don't make me fight you."

"Fight me? Oh, you go right ahead, Johnny. I want to see if you dare try.
Yeah, hit me with all you got! Ha-ha-ha! All YOU got!"

John looked down at her. She was supporting his weight with just one arm.
Sure, he weighed less now than he used to, but still, to lift his 180 pounds
or so with one arm meant she was far stronger than he was. Her muscles, which
now HAD to be fully tensed, were huge and looked as solid as any he'd ever
seen.

"You don't dare, do you? 'Cause you're afraid of me. Afraid of my muscles.
What's more, you probably LIKE the idea of being weaker than I am."

"That's ridiculous!" Still, he hesitated. What was he going to do? Kick her?
Wrestle her? Her legs looked like tree trunks. He'd never bring her down. On
the other hand, he couldn't just let her dominate him like this. Not without
putting up a fight. Besides, she may have muscle, but he'd been a wrestler in
high school and he knew how to fight.

She was using her right arm to hold him, so John quickly brought his left fist
around to her temple. She couldn't cross her left arm over quickly enough to
stop him and was shocked and staggered by the blow and John pushed himself off
her arm, then, bracing himself against the wall, pushed her away from him with
his legs. It was like moving a tank, but he got away.

"Oh no you don't!" she cried out and started after him. John had taken just
two steps when he felt her hand on his shoulder. Before he could twist to
knock it off she pulled him backwards into her and folded her thick arm around
his chest, trapping his arm inside. He swung the other behind him, catching
her with a sharp elbow to her side. She grunted, but the solid feel of her
body told him he couldn't have done much harm, if any, and then she caught
hold of his arm before he could pull it back.

"I've got you!" she said in triumph, and before he could stamp on her foot,
his shoulder exploded in pain as she twisted his arm up behind his back.

"Aaagh!" he cried.

"Don't you hit me! I'll break it. I swear I'll break it if you try one more
thing."

The pain was excruciating. "OK. OK," he said, relaxing his arms to show he
gave in.

She shook him a couple of times. "Jesus, that hurt!" she said angrily. "Damn
you!" She was still holding on to him, and now marched him down the hall away
from the door. He was pleased that he had hurt her, but it hadn't done much
except remind her that he could still threaten her. "I bet I end up with a
black eye!"

He thought, 'Well, what did she expect?' but in the current situation decided
to hold his tongue on that. Instead he said as calmly as he could, "What are
you doing, Mae-Lynn?"

She laughed. "Why, can't you tell? I'm getting back at you, sweetie! For the
way you made me feel!"

She must be out of her mind. She was the one who stopped writing him! But
again, no point in arguing about that. He didn't want to say anything to make
her think he wanted to start things up with her now. He just wanted to get out
of there. "Mae-Lynn, this is no way to deal with this," he said, trying to
find her rational side. 'If she had one,' he realized.

"Well, maybe that's true in New York, Johnny, but out here, this IS the way.
We like to be personal, you know?" She spun him around to face her, still
keeping a tight grip on his arm. "I don't like being neglected and
disrespected. I fell hard for you Johnny. You made me feel different about
myself, and then it all turned out to be a big lie. Just another line from a
slick New Yorker." She felt the part of her face where he'd hit her. "Well,
you ought to be sorry, so sorry for what you did. And maybe just maybe I can
make you want me all over again. C'mon." She pulled him toward a door.

"What are you doing?" John asked, suddenly even more worried. Mae-Lynn pushed
the door open. It led to the cellar.

"Go on," she said, catching his other arm.

"No!" he said, digging in his heels.

She pushed him back against the wall, pinning him solidly. "I WILL hurt you
Johnny. And I can do it too. You saw what I did to your suitcase. You want to
feel what I can do to your body? And I'm not gonna call a doctor for you,
believe me, so it won't be too smart of you to take a chance on it." John
squirmed, trying to get free. "Look how weak you are already. And I haven't
even started on you yet. Now you get down there, or I'll throw you down."

Once he started down those steps, would he ever get back? On the other hand,
he'd already tried twice to fight her, and in his weakened state from two
years without real exercise she was far too strong for him. If he hurt himself
going down, he would be even more vulnerable. "All right. All right."

He went down into the darkness and she followed close behind him. "Keep going.
Keep going." He arrived at the bottom and she switched on a light. "Through
that door." He saw a small room with a heavy metal door in front of him, like
a fallout shelter, but with a reinforced glass window in it. That's what it
was. Shit! She grabbed him from behind and pushed him forward into the room.
"Yeah, get in there! Heh-heh." There were heavy handcuffs attached to the
wall. He couldn't let her tie him up like that! He'd be completely at her
mercy. He turned around and ran right at her, trying to bowl her over, but she
was ready for him and tackled him, pinning him on the ground. He groaned at
the impact and the weight of her body on his. "Ha! You think YOU can
steamroller ME? You wish! I bet I outweigh you by 70 pounds, you weakling. And
just you wait 'til I'm finished with you. I'm gonna give you your wish. Just
you wait and see!"

"What do mean by that?"

"Never you mind!" She got up. "Now go and put your wrist into that cuff. DO
it!! That's right. Ha-ha! Very good, Johnny. You're being so obedient. Now
click it closed."

John glared at her, his hand poised to comply. "I'm telling you now, this
won't turn out well for you. You've gone WAY too far and when this is over I'm
going to see to it that you who spend a lot of time behind bars."

"Oh? So you think it'll ever be over?"

John looked at her with hatred and removed his hand from the cuff. "Forget it,
Mae-Lynn. That's enough."

"Who's going to stop me?" she said cockily, moving closer. John looked around
desperately for some kind of weapon. There was a wooden chair but nothing
else. He crouched into a boxing stance, trying to keep back from her, maybe
maneuver around so that he would be on the right side of the door. Then he
could dash out, close the door on her and make a run. But she just waited
patiently, almost immobile, blocking any escape. He thought he saw an opening
and tried to fill it with a punch, but she moved and it glanced off her solid
shoulder. She advanced on him and he realized that in that small space, he
would never avoid her, so again he charged, trying to push through. He failed
completely. She grabbed him by the waist and threw him down and then fell on
top of him, pinning him quickly again, this time trapping both his arms under
hers. "Ha! That's three for three! And now, goodnight, Johnny." She pushed
hard into his chest, forcing the air out, then put her hand over his mouth and
nose and pinched them shut. His helpless struggles did nothing, only
exhausting his air more quickly, and he passed out soon afterwards.

24

When he came to he was seated on the chair, his right arm twisted behind him,
his wrist cuffed and attached to a hook bolted to the wall. Several pulls
confirmed he would never pry it loose. The handcuffs were so short he had to
face away from the door in order to straighten his arm. He stood up and turned
toward the wall to relieve his aching arm. His shoulder and chest ached and he
noticed his hunger for the first time -- a bag of chips on the airplane were
all he had eaten since he'd left his apartment after breakfast. He had no idea
what time it was now, or even whether it was day or night. Was it just this
morning that he had kissed Stacy good-bye? He realized his bowels ached. So
what was he supposed to do? Soil himself? Then he noticed a bucket that
Mae-Lynn had "thoughtfully" left for him. He stared at it and the roll of
toilet paper inside, and decided that it beat the alternative. He undid his
pants and squatted. Now this was complete degradation. At least he felt more
relaxed afterwards. He pushed the bucket as far away as his could without
being unable to reach it if he needed it again, turned the chair around and
tried to get back to sleep.

25

"You look very comfortable there, Johnny."

He snapped up and turned his head. The bucket was clean. A few stray bits of
light came in through cracks near the ceiling. She stood in the doorway
wearing shorts and a muscle t-shirt. She had a large weight in her right hand
and she curled it slowly as she stood.

"I bet you're hungry."

He didn't want to admit it but he was. Very hungry. She went outside and
tossed him a small bag of potato chips and a bag of six oreos. "Here's
breakfast. And lunch." She went out and then rolled him a thermos. "All the
water you can drink." She disappeared again. "And I'll even give you some
vitamins. Don't want you to get sick." She threw a bottle of drug store brand
multivitamins his way.

"This is what you're feeding me?"

"Uh huh," she said, switching arms. "Damn, this has gotten addictive. You
know, I just have to be exercising just about all the time now. Otherwise I
don't feel right. If you're interested, sometime I'll show you my whole
routine. I bet you'll be impressed. Not like there's gonna be much other
entertainment going for you." He noticed her hulking biceps bulge with each
repetition then turned away. "Yeah, I noticed how you were all twisted up.
I'll have to put up a mirror there. Or maybe if you're good I'll get you a
longer chain so you don't have to face the wall like that."

"Don't bother."

"Ha-ha. Big tough man. I can wait. Easier on me than on you." She put the
weight down. "I think I'll join you for lunch." He didn't respond. "Yeah, be
that way." She walked up the stairs and then back down. "Mmmmmm."

He turned around to see what she was eating. It was a large glass of
something.

"It's a Herbalife drink. My oldest sister sells their stuff. 'Muscle building
protein drink.' It's the best tasting one, like chocolate milk. I have six of
these every day." John made a face. "Oh it really works, you know. All this
protein. Lots of vitamins too."

"Spare me."

"Why, that's my plan!" John stayed resolutely turned to the wall. "You don't
have to eat that stuff but you're not getting anything else. I've got boxes
and boxes of chips and oreos from Sam's Club. They'll last a long time."

"Is this your idea of a joke? Feeding me crap food to make me sick?"

"I could give you salads but it's too much work. I hate cooking or making
food. That's why I'll give you the vitamins. I don't want you to get scurvy or
anything, or for your hair to fall out. I don't want to make you ugly. Just
...."

"Just what?" he said, challengingly, turning around to glare at her.

She smiled. "Just weak. Weaker and weaker. I'm not giving you any protein. I'm
not going to let you exercise. I figured out just about 800 calories a day or
so. You won't need more 'cause you're not going to do anything. And meanwhile,
I'm going double up my exercise. And my protein drinks. Plus the heavy work I
do at the farm. See what happens after three months, six months, a year.
Imagine what the two of us'll look like then. Huh?"

"You're crazy! You think you'll get away with this? You think no one will find
me long before then?"

"No. I worked it out with my sisters. We were pretty careful. The plates on
that car aren't registered to anyone we know -- it's been junk for years. My
middle brother found it and used to work on it as a hobby but he doesn't need
it now 'cause he got a better car. By now it's just on a roadside somewhere.
And no one ever comes out here. Unless someone's looking for a still. And I
don't got one." She smiled at her own cleverness. "I think there's lots of men
who go missing because they want a change in their lives. That's what my Daddy
did. We've never found him even though Momma has never stopped looking. It's
not as suspicious as with women. Some loner kidnapping a girl for sex or for
carving her up. That happens to women and young girls, not men in the prime of
life. Like you."

John shook his head. "It'll never work!"

"You haven't been around Arkansas much have you Johnny? This State is filled
with people who don't want to be found, and no one looks very hard for 'em
either. I think the sheriff of Madison County has better things to do than
look for some fool New Yorker who came out here to sell himself to MeGaCo. And
I'm thinking that after enough time goes by and you get smaller and smaller
you won't really want to be found anyway. You'll be too ashamed of being so
puny!"

Aha! So he was in Madison County, wherever the hell that was. "You've really
lost it, Mae-Lynn. You're insane, do you know that?!"

She walked closer to John but still outside his range of movement and brought
her arm up for a slow flex. "Is that what you think? I'm your dream girl,
Johnny, your wish come true. You'll see that. Or maybe I'm your worst
nightmare. But just you wait long enough, when you're down to a hundred twenty
pounds or so, and I'm up to 260, 270. My muscles'll be so big and so hard.
You'll be wanting them so bad you'll be drooling over them. And we'll put your
thin little arm next to mine. Yours'll be barely nine inches around and
mine'll be twenty or more. We'll play games, have little contests, make up
stories like we used to do on the internet. I'll be so strong by then and I'll
feel even stronger to you 'cause you'll be so weak. And you'll like it. You'll
love it. And you'll love me. Yes you will! And I ... I," her lip curled into a
sneer, "I will have destroyed you!"

John was getting excited and angry. "That's just some crazy fantasy of yours,
Mae-Lynn! It's not real!"

"Oh it is SO real. It's a real fantasy. And it's going to come true! I'm going
to make it real! You'll see!"

26 Three days later

"Jeannie, I don't know what I'm going to do! I've filed missing person reports
everywhere. Even with the FBI. No one has seen him since he got off that plane
in Bentonville. He hasn't used his credit card, rented a car, withdrawn money,
used his internet account. Nothing!"

Jeannie held Stacy in her arms and stroked her head. "Oh dear, dear, Stacy. Oh
you poor dear. What did the police out there say?"

Stacy was in tears. "They're hopeless! It's like there are just three of them
in any county and none of have the resources to look for someone, especially
if we don't even know he's there. The ones in Benton County, where MeGaCo is,
were no better. The only thing they could tell me is that apparently he never
had an appointment with anyone at MeGaCo." Jeannie gave her a very concerned
look. "I'm sure they think he's just run off with someone. They're acting like
I'm just a hysterical female who wasn't good enough to hold my man or
something. But I know, I just know he's in trouble and he needs me. And they
won't help! He could be hurt somewhere. Or kidnapped. Why won't they help?"

"I don't know. What are you going to do? Did you tell them about, you know,
that Mae-Lynn girl."

Stacy nodded. "I didn't want to. It's so ... embarrassing. But they said to
tell them everything that might matter. And sure enough once I mentioned her
they right away just said if he'd come out there to be with her, then there's
nothing they could do about it. He said, 'It may not be right, ma'am, but it's
not illegal for a man to leave his wife.' I can just tell they're not going to
do anything!"

"Well, if the police won't ...."

"I know! So I hired a detective out there but it's expensive. I'm going to fly
out to meet him Saturday but he said he'd start working right away. He's the
one who told me no one's seen him. So maybe he's doing something. But still,
most of his work is divorces. What I need is a real private eye, like in the
movies."

"I know Stacy, but --

"I know, I know. Those are just movies. And I can't even afford this guy for
more than a couple of weeks. And how do I know he's even doing anything? He
could just be taking my money and working on something else." Jeannie nodded.
"You don't think he's run away from me to be with her, do you?"

"I'm sure he hasn't," Jeannie said. "You two were so happy."

"We ARE happy," she sniffed. "We ARE happy!" And she burst into tears.

27 February -- Year 5

Every day was the same. John thought it had been over two hundred days now,
maybe two hundred twenty five. He looked down at the bucket, that ridiculous
bucket. What he would give to use a toilet again! Still, one thing he had to
say for Mae-Lynn was she always kept it clean. He had to give her credit for
that. And ever since she'd put given him the bell he could call her easily
when he'd used it. That way they didn't have to live with the smell. It would
be better of course if he could use the toilet. Maybe soon he would be able to
persuade her to let him. At least once a day. That would take care of the
smell once and for all. She had said she would let him eventually but he
supposed it wasn't time yet. He just had to be patient.

He could hear her upstairs, her heavy tread moving through the house as she
did her morning tasks before going out to the farm to work. He had his food
already. She'd left the biscuits, raw vegetables and baked potato cooked the
way he liked. Not much protein of course. That was her rule, and he had to
accept it. He didn't like it but at least she heard him out and explained her
position. It had surprised him at first that she had even listened to him, but
they talked a lot these days, more and more. And he had convinced her that the
junk food was ruining his teeth and skin. She did listen to reason, after all,
and he had felt much better since. Letting him wash regularly and brush his
teeth were other small steps forward, hard as it was to do those things when
he was still handcuffed to the wall.

Would she have time this morning to come down and say good-bye? He wondered
what she was wearing. There wasn't more variety to his day than seeing what
she wore and how she looked and what she said. When she was dressed for work
she was well-covered, probably because it winter, so it was mostly her face he
focused on and her thick blond hair, usually tied back. Most days he didn't
wake up early enough to see her. She would be in and out of his room while he
still slept. Funny how he needed more sleep than she did, even though he
didn't do anything all day. But that probably was because of his minimal diet.
That and the boredom.

He wondered what was going on outside. Were we at war again? How were the
Knicks doing? Had the Yankees gotten back to the World Series? What was
happening in the stock market? What was Stacy doing? Did she think of him? Was
she still looking for him? Months ago Mae-Lynn had told him about a detective
who had found her sister and asked her some questions, but he'd never come out
here. John knew all the sounds around the house now, and he would have
recognized anything unfamiliar.

"Bye, Johnny. See you later!" she said from the door of the house. He called
back his good-bye and heard the door close. Now he had just her return to look
forward to. He shifted slightly in his chair. His Lazy-Boy. An apt name.
That's what he was now. Nothing to do. Cut off from the world. He pushed the
chair upright and stood up and stretched. Still bound by the handcuffs, which
thanks to his weight loss were now very loose around his wrists, he couldn't
move very far, but at least now he had a chair that went almost all the way
back and was comfortable for sitting and sleeping. And the chain on the cuffs
was long enough for him to take a step or two in each direction, so his legs
didn't cramp as much. But sitting in the chair was the most comfortable place
for him.

She'd be back sometime in the afternoon. Her work days were shorter in the
winter. A little bit less to do, a lot less light to do it in, she'd say. He
would hear her coming about five seconds before she opened the door, once she
started walking through the brush. She would call out a hello, her voice more
tired than when she left, and he would call back. Then she would walk down the
hall to her room where she would take off her work clothes and then go to the
bathroom to wash up. He would hear her sigh a few times before she turned the
water on, before it drowned out most of her sounds. Except for some of her
singing. She didn't have a great voice and she would sign the same country
songs over and over, but within a certain range the notes sounded very pretty
and he found himself looking forward to those bits every day. They seemed to
penetrate right to his heart and made it beat more quickly. And it meant that
she would be downstairs before too long, this time looking very different.
That was the very best part of the day, when she would be wearing just a bra
and panties and stand right outside the doorway, working out with her weights,
showing off her muscles. God, she had muscles! They were so thick, so big. And
then, while he finished the last of his food, she would drink down two or
three glasses of her Herbalife muscle building drink, talking to him all the
time about how strong she was getting, how she was building up her muscles
just for him. And then when she was finished working out, finished with her
drink, when her body was shining once again with perspiration, her muscles
fully pumped, her face red with exertion, flush with health, she'd come close
to him and let him touch her as much as he wanted. He got an erection just
thinking about it. She wouldn't touch him or let him touch her with his dick,
but otherwise she would let him do whatever he wanted, for as long as he
wanted. He knew it was just to torment him, but he didn't care. He hated her.
Her and her damn muscles. But more and more that was all he thought about. And
dreamed about.

He would want to touch her the rest of the day and all night too. But he'd get
tired and eventually, when he couldn't hold his arms up any more he would tell
her she could go. She would push him back into his chair and hold him down,
tell him how weak he was, how pathetic and useless and then she'd leave his
room, gather up her weights and go back upstairs. And then he would jerk off
and invariably he was asleep in fifteen minutes. He never managed to stay
awake until she went to bed. But in the morning his bucket would be clean, he
would have fresh food and the cycle would begin again.

He thought about jerking off now. He could do that and then take a nap. No. It
was so pathetic. He knew he'd get back to that some time in the day, perhaps
twice. But he would rather wait and give himself something to look forward to.

Instead he stood up and stretched, gently twisting his body from one side to
the other and bending gently to touch his toes, keeping his bound wrist and
the chain clear of the rest of his body and moving slowly so that the cuff did
not chafe his skin. He couldn't really do any exercise. For one thing, he had
too little space and too little area for movement. For another, with the
minimal food she gave him he tired so easily that it seemed pointless. After
five minutes or so, he'd had enough and sat down again. He ate a little of his
food, focusing on the potato while it was still freshly cooked. When he
finished it, he pulled out one of the mysteries she had left for him. He'd
already read it seven times. It was just boring enough to put him to sleep.

He wasn't sure how long he'd slept. The house was still quiet. Perhaps it was
midday. He stretched again and stood up. He guessed it was still morning, late
morning, but he never knew. He ate a few vegetables, trying to make the food
last. They weren't fresh, but they still had some taste. It didn't take much
to break the monotony. He felt his stomach. He couldn't believe how thin he
was. He remembered some studies he'd read about how starvation diets actually
could extend the human lifespan. Well, at this rate he would live until he was
200. But what kind of life would it be? He looked at his thin arm. It made him
want to cry. During his first few month's on Mae-Lynn's diet, the muscles in
his arm had steadily shrunk, no matter how much he tried to exercise. He
guessed that since he wasn't getting enough calories or any protein at all,
increasing his energy consumption only made things worse. So he stopped the
real exercise and did slow stretches instead and slept all he could. That
seemed to slow down the muscle loss slightly, but it didn't stop them from
getting soft, and now they were small AND soft. Oh, it looked horrible! He
hated his arms. He hated his whole body. He hated Mae-Lynn. He hated himself
too, for being stupid enough to be caught like this. All at time when things
were going so well.

Except he wasn't completely sure of all of his hate. Could he really blame
himself for going out to Arkansas to pursue business? For getting into that
car with who he now assumed was Mae-Lynn's sister. But she could have worked
for MeGaCo. It could have been real. Or could it? Did he really think MeGaCo
would come after him, after all those years, in such a way. Had he known all
the time this was somehow connected to Mae-Lynn. Or had he HOPED it was? Maybe
that's why he came, despite the obvious signs. The poorly drafted letter, the
"unofficial" channels of communication. Didn't he know?

And did he really hate Mae-Lynn? Sure, he wanted to. Sure, she was destroying
his body, bit by bit. Sure, she was keeping him prisoner. But why then did she
excite him so much? Why did he look forward to seeing her every day? To
hearing her voice? She always said that she was doing it all for him. That
everything she did was for him. He scoffed at that in the beginning, and they
both said cruel things to each other. But now he wasn't completely sure. He
should hate her, he knew. When he did escape, and he was sure he would,
someday, it would be even more humiliating if it ever came out that he had
feelings for her, even then, if people said that he, John Rose, had succumbed
to the Stockholm Syndrome and fallen in love with his captor, like that silly
Patty Hearst. So he couldn't admit that he didn't hate her. And yet, with
every day that went by, he was thinking less and less about Stacy, and more
about Mae-Lynn. Once he heard a noise outside -- it must have been an animal
-- and a wave of fear ran through him. He didn't WANT to be found. He didn't
WANT to go back. But nothing happened. And his own feelings embarrassed and
shamed him.

But when he thought about it, were things really going that well when he was
in his apartment, with Stacy? Wasn't his career going down the drain anyway,
forcing to take a job that paid less than she was making? He hated working for
other people, spending his days taking orders, sucking up to bosses. It felt
like slavery to him. And wasn't his body wasting away even when he was with
Stacy, eating well, simply from lack of exercise? Was this just a matter of
degree? Sure it was an extreme situation. It was a lot of degrees. Stacy loved
him, was sweet to him, did anything to make him happy. That was sure. And
Mae-Lynn did everything she could to weaken him, to make him feel small. How
could he compare them? Could it be that, on some level, Mae-Lynn was the one
giving him what he wanted, not Stacy?

John stamped his foot in anger. That was absurd. Stacy loved him. Mae-Lynn
wanted to destroy him! How could he even left such stupid ideas get into his
head!

He glared at the floor.

And when was she coming back?

28 July -- Year 5

She had been hinting to him for two weeks now that today would be a special
day. Now, from the faint, distant sounds he heard from outside he guessed it
was the Fourth of July. That would be about right. He had lost count, exact
count, but he was sure it was at least a year since she had captured him.
Independence Day. So, would it be Independence Day for him too? Yesterday she
had given him last Sunday's Bentonville newspaper to read. This morning she
had put a touch of grated cheese on his potato. And now, after she had come
home from work and showered, instead of coming down to work out, she had come
downstairs still in her towel, released him from the handcuffs and told him to
get dressed and wait here for her. Then she left, saying she would be down in
awhile.

For the twentieth time he looked at the bundle of clothes she had left for
him. His original clothes had decayed into smelly rags after the first month,
and since then she had given him a few sets of simple clothes to wear, which
he changed from time to time. Of course during the summer it was too hot to
wear more than a pair of boxers anyway. And now, this bundle? Was this just
another humiliation?

Well, in a way it was. But he also knew that it had given him the hardest
erection he'd ever had in his life. The suit looked so small. He could hardly
believe it would fit. But then, it was very elastic and he had gotten so small
too. His biceps were nearly the same size as his wrist. His thigh was smaller
than his knee. But there was nothing wrong with his dick. At least that
worked. That was one part of him that hadn't lacked stimulation or exercise.

He pulled on the shirt. No problem at all. Amazingly, it even hung on him
slightly. At least it covered his arms so he didn't have to look at his
muscles. Then the pants. Fortunately the waist was even more elastic than the
rest. That kept it up. He laughed at how his erect dick forced the front out.
He'd never seen the suit worn quite this way before. Then the last piece of
it, which attached to the collar in back.

He heard her at the top of the stairs. "Are you ready, my little darling? Are
you all dressed?"

"Yes!" he answered excitedly.

She came downstairs slowly, deliberately, and stopped when she reached the
bottom of the stairs. She stared at a piece of paper, closed her eyes and then
put it on the stairway. He stood in his room, still next to his chair, staring
at her in wonder. Her blond hair, set in a little girl's pigtails, shone. She
wore a little white shirt and a green plaid skirt, with white stockings that
stretched over her massive calves and black and white schoolgirl shoes, neatly
tied. He trembled, his knees weak.

She looked down for fifteen seconds more and took a deep breath, then walked
into the room. "Well look at that! You finally managed to get free of your
kryptonite chains!"

"Yes!" he said, trying to sound confident.

She grinned nastily. "It took you long enough. Well, you may be free now. But
it won't change anything. I still won't let you escape. Not ever!"

"You can't stop me. Perhaps you've forgotten. I'm Superman!" he said taking
several steps toward the door. It was the farthest he'd moved since she had
locked him up and, subconsciously, he still felt the chain on him. He put his
hands on his hips, very conscious of the bones right beneath his skin.

"And I suppose you think I'm just a little girl, at the mercy of your amazing
superpowers? You ought to look again Superman!" John couldn't have stopped
looking at her anyway, but now Mae-Lynn turned slightly, showing off her
powerfully built chest, which combined with her naturally bountiful feminine
endowments created large gaps between each button of her shirt, which must
have been specially reinforced not to pop, and shaped her torso into a
threatening triangle. John was painfully aware of his own thin, bony chest but
his attention was overwhelmed by the vision of power before him. She raised
one hand and slowly flexed the biceps of her right arm, the growing ball of
muscle gradually tightening the fragile sleeve of thin cotton until it tore.
Mae-Lynn casually ripped the remaining end piece of the sleeve off her arm,
leaving the torn cloth to flap helplessly around her Herculean muscle. She
stepped toward him fearlessly, challenging him to stop her, until his hands
rested on her upper arms.

"Isn't it obvious, Superman? While I've held you captive I've been taking away
your superpowers, absorbing your strength and your muscle. You're just a
shadow of the man you used to be, while I get stronger every day. Just feel my
muscles. They're like steel." John was so excited that his hands shook as he
grasped Mae-Lynn's biceps more tightly. To his weakened fingers they DID feel
as hard and dense as steel. "You see? Why don't you try to use your so-called
super strength against me? Go on, hit me with all your -- heh heh -- might!"

John couldn't believe she was actually suggesting this, a scene from all his
favorite amazon fantasy stories, but he didn't wait to be asked twice. He
reached back and hit Mae-Lynn in the stomach as hard as he could. She just
laughed. "You're TICKLING me, Superman! You know that? You are SO weak." He
hit her again, desperately trying to push his fist through the wall of her
abdominal muscle. "Afraid to use your full strength against me? Still pulling
your punches? Ha-ha! Go on," she continued, laughing harder. "You've got NO
strength left, Superman! Look at your puny arms. Just LOOK at them!" She
grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm alongside hers. Although her wrist was
smaller than his, her forearm swelled to at least twice his size and it looked
as though three upper arms of his could fit inside hers -- until she flexed
her biceps. The soaring bulge of her muscle dwarfed his, like a Shearman Tank
beside a bicycle.

She pushed him back onto his chair with a flick of her wrists. "Maybe you need
to eat better, Superman!" she mocked. "Wait here. I have just the thing for
you." She left the room and returned with a jar filled with a thick, dark
green substance and handed it to him. "Here you go. It's a special concentrate
of spinach, wheat germ, egg and Herbalife Muscle Building Formula 10+,
jam-packed with vitamins, energy and protein. It's a new product, a free trial
for loyal customers -- like me. It's supposed to be really powerful. Maybe you
should have some. Maybe that will help restore your strength and make you a
... worthier opponent."

John took it eagerly, his first real protein in a year! He twisted the top. It
was stuck! He turned harder, using his sleeve to help him to tighten his grip.
But to no avail!

"Awww! You can't even open it? What a darn shame, Superman! There's your power
drink, right there, and you're not even strong enough to open it," she taunted
as John gripped it with all his strength, frustration mounting, his arms
shaking, his face turning red from the effort. Mae-Lynn watched, then snatched
it from his hands and turned the top using just her thumb and forefinger.
"See? Easily as pie!" she exclaimed. He reached toward her to take it back but
she caught his hand in hers and twisted him around while she put the jar to
her own lips and drank it down, not even pausing for a breath until she had
emptied it, while John futilely tried to escape from her hold, moaning
repeated, anguished "no's" as he heard Mae-Lynn loudly gulp down the
muscle-building liquid. "Mmmmm. Real tasty too!" she gloated. She released him
and let out a satisfied burp.

The torment was unbearable for John, so deliciously unbearable. She was
already so strong, and now she had dangled this power potion in front of him
before taking for herself! He felt as though he were living inside a story,
and yet it felt so real. No, it WAS real. He WAS starved of protein, of real
nutrients. He desperately needed it to start restoring himself and she had yet
again denied it to him after letting him hold it in his own hands. And his own
weakness had kept it from him. It made him almost faint with desire. His head
was spinning.

"Ooooh yes, I can feel it working! Makes me sooo warm!" she said, twisting her
hips sensuously. She rubbed her stomach slowly and brought her left fist up
and flexed her biceps and this time, as if her biceps truly had gotten larger,
the sleeve immediately and audibly burst!

John stared at the mass of muscle, eyes open in wonder. He could almost
believe that the drink had made her already massive biceps grow even more.
Maybe it WAS true! He couldn't help himself. He was crazy with desire for her.
He clutched at her arm and pressed his lips to her biceps, covering them with
fevered kisses, feeling their warmth, their solidity, his mouth moving around
every millimeter of smooth skin to experience their size and depth. Was this
heaven?

As he kissed her she lifted him and pulled down his blue tights, freeing his
quivering member to spring upward, a long line of pre-cum running from the tip
to the waistband of the tights. She lifted him in her arms in a cradle hold.
"This IS OUR 'Independence Day', honey. And now there's just one more thing
for me to do to take away your power to resist me once and for all and make
you mine forever," she said softly. "Yes, Superman, because now I'm going to
take the remainder of your powers as Superman -- no, even more than that, your
powers as a man -- away from you -- your strength, your muscle, even your
power to grow stronger by exercising. You'll see. All except for your power to
please me, and to be pleased by me. Forever. And I know you will thank me for
it. You will THANK me!!" She bent her head to his crotch took him inside her
mouth while he shivered in pleasure.

Oh god she was good! John couldn't hold back, couldn't resist her for a
second. His whole body shuddered and he exploded inside her and clutched at
her powerful arms, feeling that his strength now resided in her, that in her
was now the essence of himself, otherwise lost to him forever. He held her as
tightly as he could, with all his remaining strength.

'Mine now, all mine,' she said to herself, enjoying the featherlight embrace
of his passion.

29 September -- Year 5

"I don't GET it!" he said again in frustration, his arm straining on the third
repetition, his tiny muscle almost invisible on his upper arm, with just a
thin cord along the inside of his elbow rising to evidence his effort.

Mae-Lynn looked over in amusement at John's attempt to one-arm curl the 3 lb.
weight while she continued working with her 100 pounds. "I don't know why you
bother doing that, Johnny. I showed you the article. Just 'cause you tore it
up doesn't mean it's wrong."

"Well, just because the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette said it doesn't mean it's
right!" he said, giving up with his right arm and trying the left. With THAT
arm he could barely even do one. He threw the weight in disgust, annoyed that
it went just a couple of yards before hitting the ground loudly.

"What you lost ain't gonna come back, Johnny. Your body kind of ate up your
muscle and it won't be growing back, no matter what you eat now. It's simple
as that. That's what the paper said, and you surely haven't proved it wrong."

The idea that a news article from a country paper could actually have been the
seed for Mae-Lynn's plan was galling enough. That it had worked was even
worse. And that it had worked so perfectly was, he thought, as he stared at
the rhythmic bulging of her biceps as she powered through her workout, simply
fantastic. Despite, or perhaps even because of, his frustration, he lived in a
state of constant arousal. Looking at her massive muscles whenever she was
around him, dreaming about them when she wasn't. Her biceps were nearly 21
inches now, two inches larger than his had ever been, and they continued to
grow bigger and bigger. She wasn't cut like a bodybuilder but there was still
only a small layer of fat on her body, just enough to make it feel feminine.
The muscle beneath was hard as steel.

And it wasn't just the way she looked that excited him. It was her massive
strength too. When she had released him from the handcuffs on "Independence
Day," she had hoisted his "Lazy Boy" chair onto her back and just carried it
upstairs as though it weighed little more than a backpack. When she cut wood
for burning in the winter, she split thick logs with a single stroke of the
ax. She walked the three miles home from her job carrying fifty pounds of
tools for evening work around the house. And when she put on the Superman suit
she had made him wear that day, before she had "stripped" him of his "powers"
"for good," the elastic material moulded around her muscular frame like a
second skin, stretching and folding to accommodate the changing feast of
bulges and flexes whenever she moved. The sight of her bending steel bars
while dressed in her costume, while taunting him to watch her enjoy "his"
superpowers made him shake with desire for her.

Then there was the amazing contrast in their strength. His weakness should
have shamed him, made him retreat into himself with horror. After all, to any
outsider, he might look like a victim of torture. Maybe his ribs no longer
showed. His arms and hips had gained back enough flesh to cover his bones, and
his knees no longer looked like an anatomy lesson. He could eat anything he
wanted now, that is, anything they could afford on her modest wages at the
farm. But while he felt healthy enough and no longer slept 18 hours a day, he
was still pitifully weak. His arms shook when he lifted a half gallon of milk,
and he couldn't pour from a full gallon jug without spilling it. Jars and
bottles with screw caps were obstacles as impenetrable to him as his handcuffs
had been. He could make their bed but couldn't lift the mattress to push the
blanket underneath. He could vacuum the floor but couldn't pry open the
canister to change the bag. He couldn't turn the sticky hot water faucet in
the bathroom, couldn't push the front door open when it swelled in the rain,
couldn't lift two of the three windows in the little house to get fresh air
and couldn't even push the "Lazy Boy" down to a reclining position if Mae-Lynn
had lifted the back. And even if he could get out the front door, even if he
had known the path away from the house, down the track to the dirt road,
there's no way he could walk that far. His legs felt tired from carrying even
his modest weight after two or three laps around the house.

If he had been at all rational, he would have hated Mae-Lynn with all his
heart. He should hate her, he knew, for destroying his body, taking away his
life, and imprisoning him in this backwards godforsaken place.

But then he saw her body, saw it next to his, felt her massive chest, the
solid weight of her arm, and his hate crumbled into something else. He didn't
understand it, didn't understand his own feelings. Was it desire? No, because
he felt it even when he wasn't aroused. Was it a fantasy, an escape from
reality? But it WAS reality. Her strength, his weakness were what he lived
with every day. Those were the facts. But his feelings were facts too.
Bizarrely, his weakness, which by itself he did hate, became something
different when pit against her strength. The frustration he felt when he
pushed helplessly against the door transformed into something completely
different when the door sprung open when she placed three fingers on it and
bent her wrist; when he was on the bed, struggling to lift off one of her arms
wrapped around him so that he could get up, being completely incapable of even
moving her, while she made no noticeable effort at all to keep him there; when
he used all his strength to try to lift one of her curling weights, only to
see her lift both him AND the weight above her hand with one hand; and most of
all when he covered one of her massive biceps with both his hands, pushing it
as hard as he could, only to have her flex it and make her iron-hard muscle
force his hands outwards. He loved to see his pale, thin arm rest against
hers, clad in the tight sleeve of the Superman top, her wonderful biceps far
thicker than any comic book drawing of Superman.

He could stare at their arms side-by-side forever ....

Could it be love? SHE spoke of love all the time now. But not the way Stacy
did, never with a loving smile. Always with the hint of a sneer, flaunting her
superiority, his helplessness, his dependency. So WAS it love? Was she SO
adept at sensing his needs that she was only acting the part to tease his
fancy? Or maybe it wasn't an act. Maybe that was just the way she was ... and
somehow it entranced him. Enchanted him.

Was that love?

"What ARE you thinking about, my little sweetie? Are you thinking about me?
Oh! I bet I know what YOU want," she said, putting her weights down in the
corner of the room. She went out and quickly returned, smiling, in a new top,
the special blue and red one. She stood in front of him, proudly flexing her
biceps. "Look at these muscles!! You can't STAND it, can you? It must totally
KILL you. It wasn't enough that I stole your powers, stole your strength,
stole your muscle and stole your uniform. But I've stolen your HEART too! You
LOVE the women who DESTROYED you. And you can't help it!" she said, reveling
in her boundless power over him.

How did she know?!! He never told her he loved her. He never would! "No! It's
not true. It can't be true!" John cried out hotly, unable to take his eyes off
her. Her chest was thrust out, her arms crossed in front of the "S" stretched
across her breasts.

"Oh, but it IS true!" she said with a triumphant smile. "And I will never give
them back. Not your powers, not your freedom, and not your heart. They're mine
to play with. Mine to enjoy. And I will become stronger and stronger all the
time, day by day, while you will always be weak and helpless, my prisoner, my
toy to play with, to enjoy however I want! And you know I DO enjoy your LOVE
very, very much!"

She flexed her biceps again and John watched with admiration and lust as her
hard, thick muscle pushed the elastic material upwards. Unable to resist he
reached toward her and held her biceps with both hands, treasuring the shape,
the warmth, the hardness and the strength within. It was all so beautiful. It
was what he'd always wanted. What more did he need? What more did he have to
strive for, when he could now play out his fantasy any time he wished. Could
money buy him this? Could love? Stacy was good, but it was completely
different with Mae-Lynn. Now his life and her life too were dedicated to his
fantasy, shaped by it. Even their bodies had taken on the shapes of his
fantasy. He could never go back to his old life now, even if Mae-Lynn would
let him. He couldn't live in the 'real world' -- meaning his old life -- with
his body and strength so diminished like this. But he could live here, with
Mae-Lynn, his Supergirl, forever.

He held her with all his meager strength and she held him with a fraction of
hers, their bodies joined first in a kiss and then, as ever, as she crushed
him to her breast, in much, much more.

THE END