The Land of Awe, Part 2
By Merz
Over the muscle rainbow, Dorothy fights to get back home


Our story so far:

Kansas farm girl and weight lifter Dorothy Gale has awakened in the House of
Awe, an indoor land that seems to be a gigantic gym. To help get back home the
Good Muscle Bitch of the North, Glinda, has advised her to ask for a Pro card
from the powerful Trainer of Awe. In searching for the Trainer, Dorothy has
acquired a retinue including a gangly weakling named Stringbean, a strong but
quickly exhausted mechanical Tin Hardman, and a computer Dork and its human
carrier. Opposing Dorothy is Almira, the Bad Bitch of the East and her nasty
servants, the Gym Rats. After many adventures, the travelers find themselves
at the gateway to the Trainer of Awe.

Not knowing what to expect next, Dorothy led her eager troop through the large
fire doors. They opened onto a broad, carpeted stairway leading up another two
stories to a vast exercise studio. Like several others they had encountered in
the House of Awe, this room had on entire wall of mirrors. It also held a bank
of stationary bicycles, a long line of elliptical trainers, stair stepping
machines, treadmills, Nordic Tracs, and many other exercise devices. The floor
was made up of acres of squishy soft mats. Here and there on the wall a
television showed some bland current affairs program and a stereo blared
unrecognizable tunes with a driving disco beat. The quartet looked around
several times before accepting the fact that the room was unoccupied save for
themselves.

A piercing whistle nearly deafened them. "You're late!" the stereo suddenly
thundered, causing them to jump and stare about all over again. "Drop and give
me thirty!"

Dorothy reacted most quickly, having had her regular gym class just the day
before. She threw herself down flat and began a steady series of pushups
without even asking who had ordered them or for what reason. Her gym teachers
frequently demanded such things from her, and usually her only question would
have been which infraction she had been caught at. The Stringbean hesitated
only a moment before throwing himself onto the floor in front of her and
trying eagerly to peer down the front of her shirt, then giving up when he saw
her stretchy top wouldn't gap to provide him a view of her breasts or
powerfully pumping chest. The Tin Hardman hesitated a bit longer before
beginning his own pushups. After half a dozen he was panting like a steam
engine and had to stop at the bottom of his cycle to huff and puff and release
built up heat as a cloud of steam blowing from his butt. The Dork's keys
clattered for a few moments before his carrier bent double and began touching
him to the floor and then lifting him back up a foot.

"That's pathetic!" shouted the PA system and the deafening whistle sounded
again. "On your feet, running in place. Five more, four more, three more, two
more, one more. Now high kicks left right left right. You can only get as much
out as you put in. I can't get fit for you. Why are you wasting your time and
mine in this class?"

Concerned that the Tin Hardman was about to burst from the repetitious
exertions, Dorothy spoke up. "But we don't want to get fit. Or rather, some of
us ought to want to but I think I'm fit enough thanks just the same. I was
looking for the Trainer, in order to get a Pro card so that I might go home on
the way to Las Vegas."

A third blast came from the unseen whistle. "Silence! Just for that, you'll
have to run four laps around the outside of the building!"

"But that's just it. I don't know how to get outside the building. I just want
to leave so I can go back to Kansas. Although a Pro card sounds pretty cool if
you can arrange that." Dorothy trailed off, still looking for the person
belonging to the voice.

"Silence!" the disembodied voice boomed again. "Before you can leave Awe you
must perform one simple task, and then maybe we'll talk about earning a Pro
card. Bring me the Bicycle of Almira, the mighty Muscle Bitch of the East.
Make it snappy, and take these miserable physical specimens with you. You have
exactly two hours."

"But I was really hoping I wouldn't have to see that wicked Muscle Bitch.
Sorry about her sister and all, but it wasn't like I meant to squash her. You
probably don't want to go riding her bike around this place anyway. It doesn't
seem very safe with all the blind corners and all."

"Two hours!" At the final scream of the whistle the mats began rolling from
the far wall toward the four figures, gaining mass and speed like a giant
ocean wave crashing toward a beach. They had no choice but to turn and dash
toward the nearest exit, not noticing it was a different door from the one
they had entered by. When Dorothy stepped through it she saw there was a
polished ramp leading downward rather than stairs. Her companions crashed into
her from behind and they all tumbled downwards for a very long way. At the
bottom Dorothy instinctively tucked her head and somersaulted across the hard
floor but still landed with bruising force. The Tin Hardman and the Dork
deftly shoved the Stringbean ahead of them so they landed on his thin but soft
body and seemed to escape injury.

Wondering where they were, Dorothy looked about and then sprang up in horror.
They had been delivered into the headquarters of the Gym Rats! A dozen of the
disgusting creatures, recovered from the surprise of visitors abruptly
arriving, were even now stalking forward, their king giggling to himself and
stroking his long whiskers as he led the advance. His eyes were locked on the
warm mound between Dorothy's mighty thighs and he licked his lips
compulsively.

The four were backed against a wall as the Gym Rats slowly approached. Despite
their short stature, the rodents made a formidable group. Their backs and
shoulders were so developed the creatures appeared to be hunchbacked. Their
broad, powerful chests heaved with anticipation of the attack. Their short,
bandy legs showed powerful muscles and throbbing veins, each step forward
sounded a click of sharp claws on the tile floor. Perhaps most fearsome of
all, Dorothy noticed some of these Gym Rats were female, equally muscular but
sporting prominently enhanced breasts jutting from their powerful chests,
breasts that copied the contours of Almira's own.

First into action was The Tin Hardman. He swung twice, each metal fist sending
a Gym Rat flying like a cannonball into the ranks of those pressing in behind.
In response two of the females jumped in front of him and directed the rest of
the pack to take care of their other three adversaries.

Two giant blows had visibly tired the Hardman, so the first of the females had
an easy time dodging the heavy fist that whistled past her. Then she sprang at
the Tin man's head. Gripping his ears in strong hands, she rubbed firm tits in
his face in a most seductive manner. A nipple like a pencil eraser poked
painfully into his eye. He opened his mouth to protest only to have six inches
of rat tongue slide down his throat as his tormentor planted a wet kiss on his
lips. The second of the female rats was nearly impaled as the Hardman's dick
shot forth in response to his sexual assault. In a flash she had seized its
head in her powerful fist and she began applying her own tongue to its
slippery length.

"Oh no!" wailed the Tin Hardman as he ejaculated uncontrollably. The force of
his convulsion dislodged his first violator before he began crumpling to the
ground in exhaustion. The two Rats exchanged high-fives and then gave each
other a double-biceps and a lat-spread pose as he crashed between them.

"Why, they don't fight very nicely at all!" gasped Dorothy when she saw the
Tin Hardman fall. She was wrestling against two to of the male Gym Rats with
two others trying to crowd in to add their strength to the uneven battle. She
was barely holding her own against two runty opponents, her youthful biceps
bulging with the effort of keeping the Rats off of her. "Quick, we can kick
them in the nut-sacks and it will be all right! They cheated first." Good as
her word she landed a crunching kick to the furry, exposed genitals of the Rat
on her right. He screamed in agony and made a wobbly retreat. Dorothy faked a
kick at the second Rat who turned to block her foot as she expected. Instead
she grabbed his balls in her left hand and one-armed the squealing rodent off
the ground before tossing him onto the two pressing from behind, creating a
confused pile of squirming arms and legs.

Emboldened by Dorothy's example, Stringbean gave his adversary a crisp, if
underpowered kick. The Rat grunted at the impact, then sprang to smash a
small, hard fist into Stringbean's face in retaliation. "Oh, this one is
female. I should have thought of that," he whined as he collapsed like a thin
mattress.

The Dork, meanwhile, faced off against two Gym Rats. "All right! Ball busting!
I've written dozens of stories about that!" The carrier held up a hand to warn
off the first Rat that was advancing on him, then he carefully set the laptop
on the floor behind him. "Okay, now I'm ready, little fellow," the
computerized voice challenged. "Bring it on." He struck a fighting stance the
Dork had invented for one of his characters and glared his defiance at the
muscular duo. The pair exchanged shrugs and then the first darted in and
slugged the carrier in the stomach. When he doubled over, the other Gym Rat
grabbed one of his arms and twisted it painfully behind his back. "No fair!"
the Dork cried as the first power rodent walked over to the laptop and
switched it off. A side kick to the carrier's chin put the him to sleep as
well.

All the Gym Rats that were still standing now gathered around Dorothy, quickly
encircling her. She was determined to go down fighting and to give a good
account of herself even if the weight of rodent numbers should prove too great
for her. When some darted in to engage her, she was able to overpower them but
could feel herself tiring, and their sharp claws were shredding her shirt and
pants where the rodents grabbed for her. Just as it appeared the Rats had
worked themselves up to the point of charging in all at once, the door to the
room opened and Almira coasted in on her bike.

She dropped the bike and the Rats parted to let her walk up face to face with
Dorothy. "It looks like my Gym Rats made short work of your little band of
losers. Let's cut the crap, shall we," she sneered down at the powerful farm
girl. "I'm going to enjoy stomping you. First you rip off my belt and now you
and that Trainer want to steal my ride. You're in my wing of Awe now, bitch.
You'll get no help from Glinda here. Show me how tough you are without the
do-gooder to back you up."

Trembling, Dorothy squared her shoulders and met the smoldering glare of the
Bitch of the East. "They may be losers, but they're my losers. We don't need
Glinda to fight our fights for us."

In school Dorothy had never backed down from a fight with any boy, much less
with any of the other girls. She was normally confident of her strength and
fighting ability. But Almira's size and obvious power frightened her so it was
all she could do to stand her ground.

As Dorothy tried to gather the courage to attack the massively muscled Bitch,
the King of the Gym Rats leaped onto her back, wrapping his legs around her
neck and cupping his small hands in front of her eyes. Blinded, Dorothy
staggered and struggled to shake the creature off while Almira cackled with
joy. "Not that I would have needed any help with this whimp, but thanks for
making this so easy, little guy," she complimented her slave. That was the
last thing Dorothy heard before a hammer blow by Almira's fist to her jaw put
her to sleep.

Almira grabbed Dorothy's shirt to lift her off the floor and drape her limp
form across the bicycle frame. The fabric strained and tore at the seam
beneath her left arm. "You," the Bitch commanded the King of the Gym Rats,
"you're with me. I think you need a little more practice in panty-diving. The
rest of you stay here with our prisoners. I'll be back after I take this
hayseed to school and get my property back." Almira swung into the saddle and
the Gym Rat hopped onto her back as the bicycle tore out the door to the sound
of peeling tires.

"Hard as granite my sweet ass." Dorothy recognized the contemptuous voice as
consciousness returned to her. "I don't know what sort of trick you pulled
with Elphaba, but now I've checked your muscles and they're weak as rotten
string. I can't believe I fell for Glinda's bullshit about what a terror you
are. I spent all day pumping iron to get ready to meet you, and now it turns
out you're as insignificant as you look. Check this out, my pretty bitch."
Almira flexed her right arm several times, the biceps bulging massively and
menacingly as thick veins were forced to the surface. She held the flex and
admired the stony mass as Dorothy's eyes widened in disbelief. She was quite
sure this was the largest real muscle she had ever seen, larger even than the
sculpted ones of the Tin Hardman, and she felt herself getting turned on
against her will by the sight.

The King of the Gym Rats gave an inarticulate cry and hopped onto Almira. He
wrapped one leg around her elbow and braced his other leg on her chest as he
began thrusting his rigid pecker against the tight gap between the bulging
biceps and forearm of the Muscle Bitch. With an indulgent smile she eased up
enough for the miniature penis to be forced into the tight space as the rodent
trilled in ecstasy. "Watch the claws, runt. If you wreck my tits I'll make you
sorry you were ever born." His release was so complete that the burly little
fellow pitched over backwards toward the floor, to be saved from a hard
landing by Almira catching his tail when his head was inches from impact.

Dorothy tried to slip further away from the mountain of muscles, but
discovered she was manacled by one wrist and three feet of chain to a barbell
she calculated to weigh five hundred pounds. Looking about she realized this
must be Almira's workout room. The floor was littered with barbells larger
than Dorothy had ever seen, the walls lined with racks for dumbbells and
oversized exercise machines. At first she was puzzled by sets of manacles
hanging from the ceiling near a pile of boxing gloves, but concluded the Bitch
of the East enjoyed hanging up victims and using them as punching bags. She
wondered if such a fate were in store for her, or if Almira planned something
even worse.

The room had two exits, one marked "Swimming Pool" and the other appearing to
open onto one of the endless corridors that crisscrossed Awe. Testing the
chain connecting her to the great weight, Dorothy concluded that she would get
out of her handcuff only if Almira released her. She began devising a plan to
make that happen. Steeling her nerves she called out challengingly, "You have
no idea how much trouble you're in, girly. Back in Kansas they call me Diamond
Dorothy because when I'm pumped I'm that much harder than granite. Whacking
that other Bitch was an accident, but after you attacked me it's going to be
pure pleasure to do the same to you. Do you want to unlock this chain or
should I snap it to give you a little hint?" The chain looked new and shiny so
Dorothy was counting on their owner not wanting it ruined, even though Dorothy
knew she had no chance of breaking it or the lock.

"Lock the door," the Bitch of the East snapped at the revived Gym Rat. "I
don't want our guest to think she can pull a stunt and get out of here. I was
going to let you try panty diving all the way through her before I tore her in
half to get my belt. Messy, but effective I think. But if she'd rather play
with me than you, you'll just have to wait." She opened the cuff around
Dorothy's wrist and then tossed her bundle of keys to the Rat who scampered
over to secure the exit door. "So, show me something, tough girl. Show me you
aren't just an overgrown Munchkin from Glinda's flock of weenies."

"My muscles are so hard, that Gym Rat can chin himself on my pecs. Watch
this." She motioned to the shocked rodent and stuck her chest out as far as
she could, tensing herself to make her modest bust as imposing in its
muscularity as possible.

The Gym Rat stared in momentary disbelief at his fortune before his minor
member began reasserting itself. With a yelp of glee he dashed across the room
and leaped to grab Dorothy's tits and begin a quick series of chin ups. She
made a little kissing motion when he pulled his head up level with hers, and
let him grind himself against her solid stomach and lower abdomen as he slid
up and down. Her greatest test was to hide the agony of his claws digging into
her skin through her failing shirt.

"What the fuck is that supposed to prove? The vermin doesn't weigh anything.
If you like chin ups I'll let you try some off the balcony with that barbell
chained to you again." Almira started storming forward.

"If you think this is easy, you try it!" Dorothy grabbed the Gym Rat at the
top of his cycle and lifted him off of her pecs. Then she tossed the
astonished beast directly at Almira. As she expected, the Rat wasn't
particular whose chest he hung on and he happily grabbed handfuls of Almira's
jutting tits through her flimsy jersey shirt.

She screamed in shock and pain as he landed. "OW! Get those claws out of me
before you wreck my implants!!" As the Bitch struggled to dislodge the Rat,
Dorothy leaped forward, her fists flying. She pounded away at Almira's mighty
frame and was reminded of a time when she had slugged a bag of cement Uncle
Henry had stored in the barn in preparation for pouring a new slab for the
loading dock. Her hands stung with each punch, but she refused to quit
fighting. At last Almira peeled her furry tormentor off of her and reared back
to throw him against the wall with all her great strength. When Dorothy saw
her leg flex to take the full weight, she changed tactics and kicked the back
of Almira's knee.

The powerful leg collapsed and Almira toppled. Before she could recover,
Dorothy slammed into her back, knocking the colossus sprawling forward at full
length, the Gym Rat landing on top of her and scrambling about in panic. He
again dug his claws in to regain his footing. Dorothy ran up the length of
Almira's body to reach the handcuff that had recently held her. With a shout
of triumph she snapped it closed around the thick wrist of the Muscle Bitch.

"Got you, you over rated bitch!" While she knew she couldn't lift the barbell,
with a heave she started it rolling. Its momentum caught Almira by surprise
and dragged her along behind when the barbell hit the end of the chain
connecting it to her wrist. The jolt nearly upended the Gym Rat who fought for
his footing on the Muscle Bitch's back, which again distracted her from
Dorothy. Dorothy rolled the barbell straight through the door marked Swimming
Pool. Her heart soared when the door crashed open onto a flight of stairs
leading down to a pool the size of a respectable lake. In a confusion of
scratching, biting and punching all three combatants tumbled painfully
together behind the massive bouncing barbell. Almira had no chance to brace
herself before the enormous rolling weight dragged her down many concrete
steps and into the pool.

Dorothy barely stopped herself at the edge of the pool and lay dazed for a
moment. The sudden eruption of splashing brought her back to her senses as she
spun to see if her powerful opponent had somehow escaped her fate.

"You're mine, muff diver!" she cried in triumph. Instead of Almira, it was the
Gym Rat who floundered in the water. Dorothy grabbed the half drowned rodent
by the scruff of his neck and fished him out. "You have two choices, Rat Face.
Swear obedience to me, or see how far into the pool I can toss you. Answer
quickly." The little muscle-beast quickly made begging motions, imploring his
savior to spare him.

"All right then. Let's find those keys you had so we can get out of here. I
have an appointment with a man about a bike."

* * * *

"You know," said the Stringbean distractedly as he fondled the breasts of the
Gym Rat sitting on his lap and then giggled when she flexed her chest muscles
to make them dance provocatively, "maybe Dorothy is better off where she is.
She always seemed pretty stuck up and we might get along better without her."
He was as enamored of the muscular rodent who had overpowered him as she was
with what she considered her prize by right of conquest.

"I know what you mean," the Tin Hardman responded. Two Gym Rats were buffing
his gleaming skin with chamois cloths while he lounged, appreciating the
effect they were having on his beauty. "All she can talk about is getting her
Pro card. As if female body builders were anything but little imitations of
me." He admired his reflection in a mirror held up for him, unaware a pair of
the Rats were amusing themselves behind him by causing his back to dent inward
by simply flexing their own hard muscles against him.

"Dorothy who?" asked the Dork without interrupting the chatter of his typing
as he created a fictionalized account of their adventures, with himself as the
hero of course. Toto, meanwhile, amused himself by sniffing the butts of the
Gym Rats. All in all, the travelers were settled very comfortably into their
roles as captives.

The door suddenly burst open with a loud crash, startling them all. There was
a frenzied churning of bodies as they all sought refuge behind each other, the
Rats along with the rest, fearful of who or what new danger had burst in upon
their idyll.

They grew more fearful still when they realized the disheveled creature
advancing upon them, scratched and bleeding at one bulging shoulder and one
cheek, her shirt reduced to rags barely concealing her heaving pecs, and her
once-smart capris offering peek-a-boo glimpses of her thick quads and glutes,
was Dorothy. The ruby belt seemed all that was holding her clothing together,
barely clasping the tatters that threatened to spill her muscular body into
full view. Padding submissively behind her came the Rat King, led by a leash
he could easily have snapped if he had the spirit or courage left to try.

"Dorothy who, my ass," she hissed at the startled group as she leaned the
familiar black bike of the Bitch of the East against the wall. "Dorothy the
goddam champion around here. Dorothy who will break in half the first one of
you morons who tries to get in my way. Dorothy who is sick of this madhouse
and is going back to Kansas where the maniacs don't run the asylum, unlike
here. Dorothy who needs to hear one word out of that goddam Trainer except
'yes ma'am' before she rips him a new asshole. That Dorothy." She shook her
head to flip a stray lock of her dark hair out of her face, her look daring
any of the group to argue or to defy her.

It was an illusion, but to her stunned audience it seemed as if the mighty
farm girl was growing in size with every word she spat at them, just as she
was growing in ferocity. They cringed farther from her as she continued to
advance upon them.

"Wha-what happened to the Bitch of the East?" the Stringbean managed to ask in
a trembling voice.

"I beat the shit out her and then drowned the slut. Any more stupid questions?
Good. I just came back for Toto. The rest of you can go to hell for all I
care. I'm out of here. Ratface," she tugged at the leash, "show me the
shortest way to the Trainer before I turn you into a greasy smear on the
wall."

Her obedient servant led the way back down the hallway to an inconspicuous
looking bulletin board. He rapped it three times and Dorothy was amazed to see
an adjoining section of blank wall open outward, revealing a well lit stairway
leading up. She followed as the Gym Rat skipped up the stairs. The rest of the
group joined close at Dorothy's heels.

Three flights later her guide pointed Dorothy to yet another unmarked door.
She pushed through, and was as astounded as the pudgy person seated behind the
desk. He was dressed in white elastic waist warm-up pants and a white t-shirt,
his belly distending the fabric around his middle. Around his neck was a large
gold whistle, hanging from at thick gold chain. The name plate on his
cluttered desk proclaimed him, "TRAINER."

In a single glance Dorothy took in the bank of television monitors showing the
aerobics room the companions had been ejected from earlier, as well as views
into many other hallways, gyms and dressing rooms. On one side of the desk
were knobs labeled for lighting, heat, and air conditioning, on the other were
switches for remote cameras and PA equipment.

Before Dorothy could speak the Stringbean pushed past her to stand by the
desk. "Glad to meet you. Dorothy has told us all about you and all the great
things you can do for people. Here's that bike you asked about, now I wonder
if you could help me out getting laid. It seems the competition is tilted
against me with all these muscle bound brutes around here. I've tried exercise
but it hasn't seemed to help. Maybe a little body transplant would help. What
can you do for me?"

"My boy," the Trainer replied quickly, "you don't need a genetic makeover to
attract a lovely lady. With my help plenty of people have received hard bodies
in spite of coming from a long line of softies because they had one thing you
don't: a personal trainer. Since you insist in thinking with your dick, you
may as well hire that cute little Gym Rat there, with a percentage of her pay
going directly to me of course. She has no taste whatsoever, which is a good
thing if she is to be working with you, and will be motivated to build you
into something she can fuck without embarrassment. No need to thank me, I'll
just put it on your bill."

"And you, my metallic Adonis," he continued, turning to the Hardman. "You
probably want greater endurance. Many a married man would envy you the time
you save for more varied activities by being so quick on the trigger, and you
don't have the heart to care about satisfying anyone other than yourself, let
alone marry her. Still, for a modest fee I have just the thing for you."

Before he could pontificate any further Dorothy elbowed her way to the desk
and leaned into the face of the Trainer. "What bullshit. The Stringbean
already has this Rat ready to ball him if he blinks at her, the Tin Hardman
just needs to get ten minutes worth of reprogramming from the Dork to
rebalance his strength-to-endurance ratio, and the Dork needs his speaker
disconnected for the good of everyone. And you sit there spouting off like
you're some genius. Give me a Pro card so I can get out of this nuthouse."

"Yeah," offered the Stringbean. "You really should do something about Dorothy.
She needs her Pro card so she'll be invited to Las Vegas and can get out of
here. And we all really want her out of here."

The Tin Hardman chimed in, "That's right. She really deserves to leave, for
good. Please do something about her." Dorothy's other escorts nodded
encouragement.

The Trainer swallowed hard and sputtered a bit. "Well now, there are rules
young lady. But perhaps if you would do one more little chore for me, I could
arrange it. If you could just fetch me a pair of panties worn by the Glinda,
Bitch of the North . . ."

Dorothy lunged across the desk and grabbed the gold chain around the Trainer's
neck. She heaved and flipped him across the desk and onto his back on the
floor. Leaning close to the purple face of the strangling Trainer she shouted,
"Wrong answer." Then she snatched up Toto with one hand on his neck while she
held the Trainer down with the other. "You flabby fake! You all think it's so
damned funny having animals shoved down your pants, let's see how you like
it!" Her fury was matched only by Toto's, who had never been so mistreated by
his mistress. Unless you counted the time she had had his balls cut off, and
he hardly remembered ever having them. But now he snapped and growled and
squirmed ferociously as Dorothy stretched out the elastic waist of the
Trainer's pants and lowered Toto's head toward the gap. "This hound will make
you beg to have a Gym Rat up your ass instead!"

"All right! All right! It's really quite easy. Plenty of third-raters have
their Pro cards while superstars like Elena Seiple languish without them. It's
a matter of cherry picking. Just win a sanctioned contest nobody has heard of
against mediocre competition nobody will hear of again and you're a
professional. You there, the furry one. Stand next to Dorothy and hit some
poses. Very impressive." The Stringbean's girlfriend jumped off his lap and
did a quick but practiced posing routine, her vascular rodent's muscles
rippling incredibly. "Now you," the Trainer directed Dorothy, who hit some of
her own favorite poses. She had to admit the female Gym Rat had a truly
splendid physique and that she made nude posing seem exciting and quite
erotic. Perhaps if she stayed in Awe they could become workout partners, or
she could try it herself back in Kansas.

"Well, we have our winners." The Trainer crawled back to his chair behind the
desk. "In the under one hundred pound category, Ms Rat." He reached into a
drawer and pulled out a miniature trophy and a slip of paper. "Here is your
certificate and your trophy. If you plan on visiting Vegas or any larger
venue, you may want to look into body shaving." The Gym Rat proudly showed
Stringbean her trophy, and he rewarded her with an admiring squeeze of her
hard arm and a stroke of her breast. The miniature powerhouse instantly bowled
him over and began tearing away his tattered trousers, an assault her victim
did nothing to impede.

Trying not to stare at the happy couple, the Trainer pulled forth a similar
trophy and document for Dorothy. "Here you go. Winner in the first All Awe Ms
Spectacular contest for the over one hundred pound category, Dorothy Gale.
Congratulations, have a nice trip."

Dorothy was thrilled as she read the certificate of her championship,
confirming her status as a professional body builder. She borrowed a pen from
the Trainer's desk to fill her name in the blank so it seemed more official.

"Congratulations." Dorothy immediately recognized Glinda's sensuous voice and
was amazed how welcome it sounded. "Thanks for showing the way up here. For
some reason the Trainer has never seemed very interested in having any of the
Muscle Bitches drop by for a visit. Have you, Tubby?" The Trainer did not miss
the undercurrent of menace in Glinda's voice, despite her honeyed tone. She
twitched a shoulder muscle and smiled as the Trainer flinched back in fear.
"But now that we know the way we can drop in to chat about some of the working
rules he set up for us."

It was the first time Dorothy actually got to feel the amazing muscle power of
the Bitch of the North. Without thinking she threw herself into Glinda's
surprised embrace and hugged her wide back and pressed her head against the
strong chest as tightly as she could. Glinda returned the embrace, at first
perfunctorily and then with increasing enthusiasm as she let her hands roan
across Dorothy's upper body.

At last Glinda pulled back and held Dorothy by the shoulders while gazing down
into her eyes. "You have your Pro card, but I wonder if you'd think about
sticking around Awe. We have an opening for a Bad Bitch, you know, with poor
Elphaba gone, and we need to get the sisterhood staffed up again. What do you
say? Free use of all the equipment around here, special diet and supplements -
I'll bet we add two inches to your arms in the first month."

"What? You think I'm bad?" Dorothy stepped back, horrified. "You know that
killing the Bitch of the West was an accident. And I only fought her sister in
self defense. Did I break some rules or something?"

"Hey, no offense meant. Bad Bitch is just where we have the opening. Maybe you
and I could switch around if West didn't suit you."

"You mean Muscle Bitches can just change from good to bad? Like there isn't
any difference?"

"Well, a Good Bitch would never go shoving one of these Gym Rats down her
shorts, much less shove anything down someone else's shorts like you were
about to do with the Trainer. We don't get to be bullies. And Good Bitches
don't drive their clients to work out longer or harder than they wish to. That
explains why my miserable Munchkins are all such porkers while Almira's Gym
Rats are buff little darlings." She stooped to pinch the cheek of the King Gym
Rat and steal a squeeze of his muscled butt. He smiled up at her and rubbed
himself against her leg. "Maybe I will try the West job for a while. Breast
implants are subject to debate between Good and Bad, but I for one Muscle
Bitch believe natural enhancements are all that a body should get. Otherwise
the whole gender confusion debate starts again and I simply don't have time
for it. Don't let anyone talk you out of your own lovely bustline." Her hand
slipped inside the remnants of Dorothy's Lycra top to massage her muscled
chest and thrusting nipples, much to Dorothy's delight.

Just then Glinda straightened and sniffed the air. "And Good Bitches shower
more often than Bad Bitches. How are you, Almira? I'm glad you found the
passage to the Trainer's pad, too. We should have guessed your Gym Rats would
know secrets of Awe we hadn't learned yet. Did you know the jerk had cameras
into our shower rooms and training gyms? Have you come to see Dorothy on her
way?"

"Always happy to see a nuisance go away. So offing Elphaba really was an
accident? She probably didn't even know what hit her. If I let bygones be
bygones can I get my bike back and have my fucking belt? And I smell better
than the brat. We've both been kind of busy, unlike you apparently, but she
gave me a bath in the end." Almira's sudden appearance sent a shock wave
through the small group. She seemed to simply appear from nowhere, standing
next to Glinda. In response to Dorothy's expression of disbelief she added,
"Don't tell me you thought I'd have any trouble breaking out of that manacle.
But it did take a while to get my barbell off the bottom and dried out."

Dorothy instantly squared off, ready for another fight while her three former
companions cringed behind her. The Trainer looked quickly for an exit before
cowering behind the bulk of the Tin Hardman. The Stringbean and his new
girlfriend interrupted their frolic as he grabbed for the remnants of his
clothes and she stepped in front of him, as if his lanky frame could be
shielded by her short, muscular body.

Glinda chuckled. "You still know how to make an entrance. Sure, you can have
the belt. While we're her you want to try out the pent house hot tub? It looks
pretty plush compared to ones we get to use. Just you, I don't want to share
it with any of your greasy Rat pals. They may be buff but a three inch dick is
still a half foot too short." She glanced at Dorothy. "Give it to her. You
don't need it anymore."

"You can't be serious! Won't it increase her powers?"

"What powers? I said it would help you, but that's because you don't have
enough sense to lift within your limits. Or to keep breathing when you go for
maximum weights, instead of holding your breath like you did with your bench
press record. You started hallucinating and then passed out. I figured a
lifting belt would prevent you from hurting your back the next time you did
something stupid. Almira knows better than that, don't you, girlfriend? I am
real sorry about what happened to Elphaba. I didn't get a chance to tell you
before." Glinda stroked the Bad Bitch's upper arm and cupped the thick belly
of her triceps.

"Thanks. I guess accidents happen when you let nitwits play with big weights -
nothing you or I or Elphaba could have done about it. Her belt's the only
thing I'll have to remember her by. She had it custom made, with her name
engraved on the back." She opened her arms and exchanged a long hug with
Glinda. "The hot tub sounds good right now. I get first dibs on the Trainer as
my pool toy. I know what you mean about the Rats, so I have to get creative.
Panty diving still does less damage to them than anything you've come up to do
with a Munchkin."

"Don't remind me." Without looking up from her tight embrace, Glinda grabbed
the Trainer's collar as he tried to sneak away from the group. "Go ahead, you
get him first but try to save some for me. I'll still bet it's going to be you
and me making each other happy before the night's over, just like old times.
Two doses of Muscle Bitch Love and he's going to be Munchkin fodder for the
rest of his life." A small whimper escaped her prisoner.

With a sigh, Dorothy unbuckled the ruby belt and held it out to Almira who
continued to keep her arm around Glinda's waist. "I don't think I understand
anything that's happened in this place since I arrived. I just want to get
back to Kansas." She looked down at her tattered Lycra, suddenly too tired to
blush or attempt to cover the flesh peeping through the rips and tears. "Will
somebody tell me how to get out of here?"

The two Muscle Bitches exchanged looks, and then Almira gave a small nod to
Glinda. "Sure, kid, we'll show you the way out, now that you have your card
and can get home. But would you like to join us in the hot tub first? And I'll
bet Tubby here can do something about your outfit. You know, 'Been there, done
that, got the t-shirt'?"

"Why, yes, anything to make you ladies happy. I have just the thing." The
Trainer simpered as he retreated behind his desk once more. "This should be
the right size." He unfolded a dazzling shirt for Dorothy's admiration.
Bracketed by a small A and a small E the front of the shirt was dominated by a
giant W, spelling AWE in a way that would call attention to the wearer's
chest, particularly if that chest had the imposing pecs or breasts of the trio
in front of him now.

After her ordeal Dorothy was past caring who was there to watch as she ripped
away the last fragments of her Lycra top and held her arms up for Almira to
slip the new shirt over her head. Nor did she shrink back as the Bitch of the
East first indulged herself with a quick caress of the arms and breasts of her
former adversary.

"So, what about all these supposedly great looking muscle men Glinda said were
around here? I wandered forever and all I found was one flimsy metal guy,"
Dorothy poked the Tin Hardman with her index finger just to watch his shiny
skin dimple in and then pop back, "and a bunch of rodents on steroids."

"Your route just didn't happen to swing through the Gay Man Wing, and we keep
the Steroid Guild locked up on the third floor. Perhaps you tried the door
from the stair well and found it locked? That's for your own good, dear. But
both those places come packed with male muscle of a sort," Glinda informed
her.

"Don't be so modest," Almira added. "You've done a lot to make the confident
guys an endangered species. I seem to recall a time when several of your
Munchkins stood over six feet tall and thought they were pretty tough. You
ready for the tub, Tubby? Just have a seat, Dorothy. We'll have room for you
in the hot tub in about fifteen minutes after we discard the leftovers." She
motioned Dorothy to the padded chair behind the Trainer's desk.

* * * *

The first thing Dorothy saw when she opened her eyes was her loaded barbell,
resting in the rack above her as she lay on her weight bench. Toto hopped onto
her chest and licked his mistress's face, happy to have her awake again and
hoping she would come play with him or, better yet, feed him. Dorothy sat up
quickly and looked around the familiar little workout room.

"You mean it was all a dream? What about Almira Gulch? Is she really that
buff? Do you think she'd like to lift with me someday so we could talk about
our differences?" Dorothy stood and again calculated the weight on her
barbell, then rubbed her pulsing arms to congratulate herself on her state
record bench press. "I have to find somebody to witness the next time I lift
that much - it's way too cool not to be documented." She glanced down and was
surprised to see she was wearing her shirt from the Agricultural Women's
Exhibition - the AWE - with the big red W framing her breasts. It wasn't the
shirt she remembered putting on that morning. With trembling hands she pulled
the folded paper she felt sticking in the waistband of her tattered tights and
began unfolding it to see if it really was a Pro card, awarded for her
performance in the Ms Spectacular contest.