A Stone like Sandi
By Merz
The teacher gets an education from this student

The expanse of peaches-and-cream skin caught my eye first, before I 
took in the hillock-valley-hillock contours of her chest.  Her top 
scooped lower than the other girls' in the school cafeteria and I 
couldn't help but notice.  The friends she sat with noticed as well 
and were freer to comment than I would have been, being an adult 
five years older and all.  

"What, you want to see the pups sit up and dance?"  Suddenly she 
tensed her chest and the rounded flesh bunched up like an angry man 
clenching his fists.  From smoothly rounded hemispheres I was 
imagining being pillow-soft erupted craggy boulders jutting sharply 
forward, her young nipples lifted and thrust against the jersey 
material of her top.  I nearly choked on my food and could feel 
myself turning crimson, but I couldn't tear my eyes away.  After 
holding the flex for a few moments the teenager started bouncing 
her pecs up and down, first together and then alternately for a 
couple of beats.  She and her friends burst into laughter at the 
performance, but not before the kid caught my staring eye and had 
given me a brazen wink.

That was my second day as a replacement teacher for the final three 
months of the school year.  
The first day I had eaten in the lunchroom for teachers, but the 
second day I ventured into the general dining area to get more of 
an impression of how the kids at that school behaved.  As little 
attention as I had paid to her face, the girl with the dancing 
chest looked familiar.  I was still thinking about her little show 
as I walked outside for some fresh air before heading back to my 
classroom.

"Mark, Mr. Whitingham loved my paper on Sinclair Lewis.  You'll 
have to tell me who he was sometime.  Anyway, you did your part so 
you get to feel my calf muscles, like we agreed.  Ready?"  The same 
blonde girl turned her back to a pimply faced kid and raised up on 
her toes in a porch behind the school.  I stared dumbfounded as the 
muscles bunched and swelled.  The boy was stunned for a moment as 
well, then dropped to his knees and gripped the burgeoning balls.  
First he tried gripping one in each hand, but her calves were so 
powerful his hands could do no more than cover the front on each 
leg.  He gave up on her left and wrapped both hands as far around 
the right one as he could reach, squeezing without making a dent in 
her flesh, then stroking the curve.  She settled down on her left 
foot and bent her right knee and flexed the right calf even harder.  
I gasped silently as the muscle divided symmetrically into sharply 
defined heads.  The boy ran his fingers along the cleft dividing 
the halves of the muscle.  She manipulated her foot and ankle to 
make the muscles churn and seethe under the probing hands.  He slid 
his hand up above the knee to feel the thick hamstrings, and that 
brought the performance to an end.

"Just the calf, like you said, Mark.  Don't get greedy."  She spun 
around and grabbed the collar of his jacket.  The kid stood up 
apologetically, or maybe she lifted him bodily with one hand, but 
he kept his eyes glued on her legs bulging under her baggy shorts.  
"It's a pleasure doing business with you, but keep in mind it's 
just business.  If you want to go for a thigh you'll have to write 
me something really special.  The new history guy seems like he's 
going to be as brutal as the last one, so if I can't charm him I 
might need something historical from you to salvage the year.  Make 
it good enough and it could earn you a bicep flex."  She dismissed 
him with a little flick of her wrist and he staggered a little as 
he walked back across the parking lot.  Then she spotted me, 
muttered, "Oh, shit," and hurried back into the building. 

Her name was Kerrie.  She was in my afternoon modern history class, 
and we didn't get along.  From the grade book I inherited I could 
see she wasn't good about turning in homework, and I quickly 
learned she didn't study for class, didn't participate in 
discussions, and generally was just taking up space in my room.   I 
had a note from the teacher I was replacing that Kerrie would have 
to repeat the class based on her poor performance.  Evidently she 
hadn't cared enough to bribe anyone to write social studies papers 
for her.  After two weeks with no progress I decided to confront 
the problem and have a conference with her after school.

"The thing is, there's nothing in your class that interests me.  I 
know what I am and what I want to do when I graduate.  It has 
nothing to do with history or politics or modern problems.  I want 
to be the strongest woman in the world, and I don't have to know 
the difference between a Senator and a Supreme Court judge to do 
that.  This is just time wasted when I could be exercising.  What I 
want to learn is how I can make real money with my muscles."  She 
spoke very matter of factly about all these points.

I gulped and cleared my throat, again feeling the red flush 
creeping up from my neck to my hairline.  She wore sleeves at least 
to her elbows every day so I hadn't seen how thick her upper arms 
might be, but the pec dance and her display of her diamond shaped 
calf muscles had definitely made an impression on me.  I blushed 
again every time I thought about them.  When I got to see her 
forearms they were equally impressive, veined and powerful looking.  
In the halls and at lunch she had girl friends she would talk with, 
but most of the boys gave her a wide berth.  "You're clearly not 
dumb.  Your science teacher told me you frequently surprised her 
with your insights on biology when the topic interests you."

"That's why I can pull honest B's in science.  There are things 
that interest me there.  Not enough to stress out over tests and 
crap like that, but I can find things to write term papers on that 
interest me, and I pick up enough info to at least pass most exams.  
Do you know how I can be stronger than any woman you've met?  
Because I can lift weights or do some other hard workout three 
times a day, and still recover before my next session.  I figured 
that out myself, and found articles on the internet that proved it.  
It's simply an age thing.  Younger muscles, especially for girls, 
recover faster than mature ones, so I can really work mine hard 
over and over and they bounce back in a few hours.  Coaches and 
trainers and so-called experts like that never thought of it, 
because they just looked at themselves and thought adult recovery 
time applied to everyone, no matter how young.  When I wrote that 
up with all the right footnotes and stuff, and included some graphs 
from my workouts over a couple months with different recovery 
periods, Ms Lyons thought I should get it published.  She gave me 
an A on the paper, but I made her promise to keep what I wrote a 
secret.  Maybe I could get famous for what I found out, but I don't 
want anyone else finding out about it.  It's my advantage and I 
want to keep it."   

"I started swimming when I was eight, and I couldn't get enough of 
it.  I was in the pool every chance I got, hanging around the high 
school swim team.  I learned they lifted weights as part of their 
training so I started doing that whenever I wasn't in the water.  I 
was twelve before I figured I was the strongest kid in the school, 
and the next year in middle-school I was still stronger than most 
kids three years older.  Girls and boys both.  Now the guys are 
getting their big hormone rush and some are a lot bigger than me.  
But pound for pound there isn't a guy in school who comes near my 
strength because none of them really works at it more than once a 
day.  I'm not sure there's a guy anywhere who can match me.  
Because I don't get a chance to lift as much as I'd like at school 
I do other sports.  I can handle the guys' gymnastics routines, and 
I've can outwrestle most of our team, not that they let me prove it 
anymore."    

Capturing my eyes she bent her arm and flexed it beneath her shirt.  
She smiled at me and rubbed the obvious bulge with her other hand.  
"You really wouldn't believe what I have under here.  What's it 
worth to find out?"

To my credit I was able to choke out, "It doesn't work that way, 
not with teachers and students.  You have to earn any grade you get 
in my class."  

"I'll tell you what.  Let's take a field trip.  It's been two hours 
since I did any exercise, and I need to get my fix.  I know you 
won't mind."  She led the way out of the building and across the 
athletic field that separated the high school from the neighboring 
elementary school.  I followed along to the playground equipment 
behind that building.  She stopped under the steel horizontal bar, 
the one that was about six feet off the ground.  Reaching up she 
gripped it with both hands, one on either side, and pulled herself 
up so her head was above the bar.  She let go with her left hand 
and slowly lowered herself with just her right, then with her legs 
bent to keep herself clear of the ground she pulled mightily and 
rose back up - a smooth one-armed pull up.  Followed by another and 
then another.  At the top of her third rep her bicep was a hard 
ball distending the sleeve of her shirt.  She changed hands at the 
top of the fifth cycle and repeated the performance with her left 
arm.  It seemed to take more effort as her eyes were clenched shut, 
her face frozen in concentration until she completed five with her 
weaker arm, if any part of her could be called weaker. Then her 
expression released into the sort of relief I'd only seen on women 
in the middle of an orgasm.  

Standing under the bar again, her arms pumped up inches more so her 
sleeves remained taut, she seemed to dismiss the performance.  
"It's nowhere near a record, just a good blast of the old guns."  
She bent her arms and massaged the engorged biceps, bending her 
arms to again roll the muscles into baseball sized peaks that 
strained her sleeves.  She looked up at me sharply, again catching 
me staring.  "You'd love to really see the bad girls, wouldn't you?  
Sorry, I don't give it away when I can sell it.  And something 
tells me you'd be a pretty willing customer."

Without responding I turned and walked quickly back to the high 
school.  The next day I made a deal: she would research and write a 
paper on a topic I assigned her and I would consider her to be 
starting fresh on the year.  The first three quarters of bad to 
mediocre grades would be set aside and her year's grade would be 
based on the paper and the final test.   And I had to be convinced 
she had done the research and writing herself.   She thought about 
it for about one minute before accepting my topic.

*	*	*	

"Okay, here's the term report on Sandi Stone.  You were right.  
Once I got into the research this history stuff really came alive.  
Did you know back then she could find fights with these really huge 
men, in front of audiences?  And get paid for it?  And she never 
lost once?  And did you know she was so strong they estimate she 
was stronger than like four regular men.  I even dug up some stuff 
from when she was in high school.  Even then I wouldn't even be in 
her league for strength, and I'd never get into the fight game like 
she did.  She'd just crush these big guys - broken bones, teeth 
knocked out - all sorts of gross stuff.  And there was nothing they 
could do to stop her."

*	*	*	

"I wanted to come see you, now that school's out and I'm not your 
student anymore.  I got the impression you were waiting for that, 
too."  She appeared as if in my dreams as I was putting the 
finishing touches on my classroom cleanout before locking the door 
for the last time that summer.  I had my contract for the next year 
signed, based partly on having shown the department head I could 
turn Kerrie around on her history grades.  He didn't ask to review 
her term paper or even ask about the topic.  He didn't have to know 
most of the final exam essay questions were designed to favor 
someone having thoroughly researched the era of Sandi Stone's life 
and career, and of the fight scene she dominated.

"I am glad to see you," I choked out, trying to sound adult and in 
control the way I did every time I had seen her at school.  And 
failing the way I always did.  "How's your summer going?"

"It's going good.  You probably noticed I started wearing looser 
sleeves all the time about a month before the end of school.  Yeah, 
you would have noticed that.  That's `cause I figured it was time 
to make my move and really start packing on the muscle.  Now that I 
don't have to pretend to fit in with normal kids I can really let 
myself go, get more bulk, show up at a real gym and not care how 
much attention I attract.  And I'm attracting plenty.  I've put on 
half an inch on each arm since May, but they feel more solid."  She 
tensed her arms in front of her and the triceps surged to life.  
She wore cut off shorts - very short ones, flip-flop sandals and a 
snug tank top that showed off the thickness of her upper body in 
ways she hadn't during school.  "  The bad news is I'm losing my 
advantage.  I can only work out twice a day now to my max instead 
of three times.  Now that we aren't teacher and student, I can call 
you Paul, can't I?"  She leaned closer to me.

"Yes, I think that's appropriate now, Kerrie.  Now you're a woman 
instead of a school girl."  I was staring openly as she rubbed her 
left hand up and down her rippling right arm that I was seeing 
bared for the first time.  "We're both adults out in the free world 
now.  No more student and no more teacher."

"Right, now you can have me like you always wanted.  That Sandi 
Stone.  I saw where a bootleg video of one of her fights sold on 
eBay for three grand.  And that's just a DVD copy of an old copy 
made from an old film.  It only runs a couple minutes because her 
fights never lasted very long.  She was really something."  For the 
first time since I had seen her in the cafeteria months before she 
raised her right arm and flexed it, just for me.

"Ye-ye-yes, I've heard that.  And your paper described some of her 
fights very graphically."  I could feel myself starting to tremble 
with lust.

"How many of those videos do you have?"  She turned so show her 
tank top dipped low in back, then hit a double biceps shot and 
churned her back and shoulders.  "We shouldn't do it in the school 
building.  Someone could see, and there could be some awkward 
explaining afterward."  She dropped her arms and turned back to 
face me.

"No, we shouldn't do it here.  My place?"

"No, it's my first time and I'd like it outdoors.  Let's go back to 
the playground at the elementary school.  There won't be any kids 
around now, and there are some bushes next to the building we can 
go behind.  The playground's kind of a special place for you, isn't 
it, because of seeing me chin myself?"

"That would be okay, if you're sure nobody will see."  Sweat was 
starting to run down from my forehead.  My armpits were soaked.  I 
just threw the last stack of papers I had been sorting into the 
waste basket and dug my keys from my pocket.

We held hands after we left the high school and crossed the playing 
field to the elementary school.  She was right that the bushes near 
the playground made an effective screen for a narrow area next to 
the school building.  Once we were there, my breath coming in short 
gasps, she dropped my hand and stood close in front of me.

"You've wanted this since the first day, haven't you?"  She pulled 
off the tank top and kicked away her sandals so she stood there, 
nearly naked with her powerful physique bare before me.  Her 
breasts seemed larger than I had imagined, her abs more defined 
than I would have guessed from her comment about bulking up.  She 
was an eighteen year old mass of power.

"I have," I whispered.  "Can I touch them?"

"Why not?" she said and again flexed her massive right arm inches 
from me.  I didn't hesitate to grab it, to rub its hard peak and 
try to stretch my hands around it.  I squeezed against its stubborn 
rigidity.  They were so hard couldn't believe her muscles could be 
the same sort of tissue my arms carried.  "They say Sandi's felt 
like steel.  I'm not there yet, and probably don't have her 
genetics, but I'm going to give it a try.  You're going to have to 
be quiet so we don't attract any attention if someone does happen 
by.  You ready?"

I nodded and let go.  Her first punch was a roundhouse left into my 
ribs.  A small scream of pain escaped me, and I choked it back 
immediately.  That was the last real sound I made.  She caught me 
before I could collapse from the pain and I got to feel both her 
strong arms holding me up.

"I've tried a little boxing at the new gym, just for this.  I can't 
see myself busting people up like Sandi.  I don't have the same 
fire inside she had.  But you're special."  She shoved me upright 
and hit me on the chin, knocking me flat on my back but not out.  I 
felt her arms swell with her strength as she pushed me up and off 
her to set me up for her punch.  They were large and warm and hard.  
"You're going to want to fight back.  You'll feel better if you do 
that."  She stood over me, hands on her hips and looking down at me 
on the ground as I started pulling myself back together.

I shook out the cobwebs and charged into her.  Kerrie didn't try to 
avoid the collision, she just took my rush against her braced body 
as the shockwave rattled my entire frame, and then let me lock up 
with her arms and shoulders.   The touch of her skin was like 
electricity through my hands as I shoved her away with all my 
strength.

At bottom I guess I'm as chauvinistic as the next guy.  For three 
months I'd been drooling over all the teenage brawn I knew she hid 
from me, but it never sunk in that she could dominate me.  She 
talked about lifting weights, I had seen her do one handed chinups, 
she mentioned wrestling boys on the school team who must have been 
bigger than she was, but it never clicked.  Now it did as we locked 
up and I tried to shove her backwards.  She didn't move backwards 
at all, then she started pushing me around into the bushes and 
anywhere she wanted just to prove how easily she could.  I had my 
hands right on her big round shoulders and could feel grooves 
between the bunches of muscles as she shoved me around.  I was 
starting to get turned on again, but she suddenly quit pushing and 
let me crash against her.  I bounced off from the shock and she 
grabbed me in a bear hug around the ribs and lifted me off the 
ground.  I groaned inwardly, but didn't make a noise louder than a 
gasp as I felt incredible pressure crushing the air from my lungs.

"Sandi used to insult her guys.  Is that part of the turn-on?  
You're such a wimp.  How do you like my woman-muscles now?  Too 
much for you, aren't they?"  She started ratcheting her arms, 
squeezing out a little more of my air, then tightening her grip and 
pouring on more power.  I was helpless and folded over her shoulder 
as I started to black out.  She gave one last squeeze and I felt 
one of my ribs pop near my spine.  Then she loosened the pressure 
and shifted me up higher and more across her shoulders.  "You'll 
love this, limp dick.  I've been working my shoulders pretty hard 
for the last two months."  She adjusted her hands so she had one 
clutching my shirt front and the other on my leg.  Then she dipped 
and shoved me straight up over her head.  I had both hands on her 
powerful arm as she held me above her, and had a view down on her 
whole incredible body as she suspended me there for a few moments 
before crashing me into the soft ground.

I landed hard, face down with the wind knocked out of me.  She 
flexed her chest and abs, then walked over to me as I weakly tried 
to push myself up onto all fours.  "I don't think you deserve to be 
dressed like a man, little boy.  Let's change that."  She grabbed 
the back of my shirt and shredded it between her hands.  She 
grabbed my right arm and used it as a painful lever to flip me onto 
my back so she could tear open my pants and strip them off, along 
with my shoes so I was naked at her feet.

"Get up, wimp-boy.  You must have more fight in you than that."  
Her voice was getting more contemptuous and more demanding of 
obedience.  I gasped a few breaths and slowly got to my feet.  She 
offered her palms for me to engage.  Maybe my height would give me 
some advantage.

Just the grip of her fingers around mine hurt.  Then she slowly 
turned on the power as I tried forcing her wrists back.  In seconds 
she had my hands bent painfully back, forcing me down toward the 
ground.  She stopped me when my eyes were inches in front of her 
erect nipples, the muscles of her chest thrusting her breasts 
straight out at me.  "Wouldn't you like a taste of these?"  She 
twitched her left pec while preventing me from sinking clear to my 
knees from the pain she inflicted on my wrists.  After a moment of 
agony and seduction she pushed me off so I crashed hard against the 
wall of the school behind me.  I fell onto all fours as she turned 
away laughing, flexing her arms and smiling as if she were showing 
off to a crowd of cheering spectators.

When she approached me again I came up fast, hoping to land some 
hard punches that might save more of my bones from breaking in her 
hands.  I got in a hard shot to her side and three or four to her 
stomach, but she just stood there letting them land.  It wasn't 
like hitting a stone wall or anything like that, but there was no 
give, so sign that she even felt them.  "My kid sister hits harder 
than that, wimp.  You're starting to bore me.  Time to say 
goodbye."

I threw a final fist at her face, but it was slow and without much 
power.  She caught my fist, and showed me what a hard punch felt 
like.  She smashed me squarely in the mouth and I felt my teeth 
crunch and my lips split.  Still holding my useless fist she hit me 
with two more piston-like explosions to the middle of my face, 
breaking my nose and more teeth, and a huge one that cracked two 
more ribs.  I collapsed against her, my ruined face smearing 
against her soft breasts and my free arm clutching at her shoulder.  
It was too hard and smooth to hold, so I slipped downward along her 
body to my knees.

"Gross, wimp.  I suppose you think I'll wear your blood on my tits 
forever, as a souvenir.  I can't wait to clean you off me.  Two 
more tokens and we're finished."  Lifting me up by the fist she 
still held and a hand under my armpit, she measured the distance 
and delivered a crushing blow to the side of my face.  I felt my 
jaw break and my head snapped around painfully on my neck.  Finally 
she let me drop in agony onto my newly broken ribs.  I started 
sobbing silently from the pain.

"I read when Sandi tore up a guy's shoulders they never really 
recovered.  Except the teeth, the rest of this can probably be put 
back like it was before so I'll make sure you don't forget me."  
She grabbed my left wrist and began slowly lifting and twisting it 
behind my back.  She could have ripped it out of the socket in an 
instant, but she let the moment drag on and on.  I felt the first 
ligament tear and buried my face in the dirt so I couldn't scream.  
More things tore in my shoulder as she continued the pressure, one 
bare foot planted on my shoulder to press me into the ground as she 
pushed on through t.," she said at last and dropped my limp arm.

"That punch to the ribs really hurt," she told me as she looked 
down at me, my blood and tears turning the ground to mud beneath my 
face.  She rubbed along her muscular ribcage.  "I can't imagine how 
Sandi could build up anything to protect herself there, but she was 
a lot stronger than me.  She just used a fraction of her strength 
to tear up bigger guys the way I did you.  If it's any consolation, 
I went all out on you a couple times."  My blood was splattered and 
smeared in intricate patterns down her gleaming body.  She gave me 
a final flexing show that made the patterns and the muscles 
underneath stir exotically, then she blew me a kiss. 
  
She used my tattered shirt to wipe my blood from her body while she 
rummaged through the wreckage of my pants for my cell phone.  Then 
she dialed 9-1-1 and briefly described where an ambulance could 
find me and the general nature of my injuries.  "I guess this is 
it, then.  I'm moving on at the end of the summer, probably to 
Southern California.  I think Sandi ended up there and I might want 
to track her down.  If you've looked into that you could email me 
an address or something, but you don't want to see me again.  This 
is how you want to remember me, and having to go through it again 
would be a waste of time.  Although I didn't mind it as much as I 
expected.  I might try it again sometime.  Have a good summer, limp 
dick.  I probably couldn't have graduated without you."  She 
slipped her tank top back on, stepped into her flip flops and was 
gone.

Limp dick.  From the first morning in the hospital I proved how 
wrong that was when I thought about her and our last time together.  
Even now I'll do something awkward with my bad left shoulder and 
the sudden flash of pain will get me hard again, even before I can 
consciously think of her.  Of course I've read of her strength 
exploits and have been impressed by the above-ground ways she's 
found to make money off it.  And on the internet I read just enough 
to imagine how well she's doing when she uses it to break up some 
guy who never knew her half as well as I did.