The price of manhood
By Charon
Violence, sex, femdom, femuscle and a bunch of other stuff
unsuitable for under 18 year olds.



Hope you enjoy! 


 Prelude to 'The Price of Manhood' 

Timmy asked for very little of life, but so far, it had asked a great 
deal of him.  He was born a tiny baby, frail and sickly.  He had 
suffered with epilepsy and diabetes, and allergies to almost everything.  
He lost his mother when he was only ten, but even at that, his father, a 
kind but strict former Marine, had forbidden him to cry.  His father 
taught him all about being a man, about being strong in the face of 
hardship, and behaving with honor and dignity. 


Timmy's father married another woman, Sheila, when Timmy was fifteen and 
Timmy was taught to treat her as if she was his real mother.  The only 
problem was, she didn't treat him as if he were her son.  Sheila wasn't 
mean to him, only a bit cold and uninterested.  It didn't help that 
Timmy was always sick and in need of constant care, which Sheila 
grudgingly provided. 

Sheila couldn't have any children, so the family adopted a child, a 
young girl named Deanna.  The first day they met, Timmy knew Deanna 
meant trouble.  Timmy was told he would have a new little sister, so 
Timmy was confused when his father and Sheila arrived with a girl almost 
as tall as his father and every bit as big as Sheila. 

"Timmy," said Timmy's dad with a proud clap on the big girl's shoulder, 
"this is your new sister, Deanna." Timmy stood in silent shock as the 
big girl smiled at him and gave a small, friendly wave.  Tim looked up 
and down at the girl, dressed in worn blue jeans and an oversized 
sweatshirt, and then glanced searchingly at his father.  His 
impoliteness elicited a stern command from his father to say hello to 
the newest member of the family, and Timmy collected himself and gave 
the salutation he had prepared and practiced all morning.  It sounded 
funny to tell this girl, the size of any teacher he had ever had, that 
she could count on his help moving in etc., etc., because he had 
imagined telling these things to a small girl.  She took his greeting 
very well, and said how happy she'd be to have a family all of her own 
again. It struck Timmy, that maybe she meant a family of her own to eat. 

At dinner that night, Timmy learned that Deanna had been orphaned at 
birth and had never lived in one place for very long, since foster 
parents tended to want children who seemed younger than she.  He also 
found out that Deanna liked 

sports, especially football and weightlifting.  Timmy's father got 
excited when he told her about the weight set he had bought for Timmy 
some years ago, and that he hoped it might finally get some use.  Deanna 
turned to Timmy, who had said 

little during the whole discussion, and asked if that would be okay.  He 
said that it would be fine with him, although he felt she had inherited 
the set already. 

After dinner, Timmy left the table and went outside to the pond out 
back, to see the fish biting in the last days of summer and think.  He 
had just reached the edge when he heard heavy footfalls behind him and 
turned to see Deanna overtaking him.  She asked if she could join him on 
his walk, and he explained that he was already at his destination, but 
she was welcome to stay and talk. 

"So, you're twelve, huh," Timmy couldn't resist saying. 

"Almost thirteen.  Only eight more months," Deanna replied looking 
across the pond at some birds pulling worms out of the ground.  "You're 
fifteen," she continued, as if trying hard to remember dates in history 
class, "and you like science and riding your bike and you don't like 
cats." 

"That's right," said Timmy, feeling a little like a star hearing his 
personal dossier for the first time, "I see they gave you the whole 
story on me." 

"Why don't you like cats?" Deanna asked quickly. 

"I'm allergic to them.  They make me itch all over, and anyhow I think 
they're mean, always killing birds and things," responded Timmy, 
thinking he needed to teach Deanna about their inherent predatory 
nature. 

"I like cats, because they're strong."  She stopped and looked down at 
Timmy, who shielded his eyes from the setting amber sunlight to look up 
at his little sister.  "Strong like me," she exclaimed and scooped Timmy 
up and cradled him like a baby.  She looked at a very shocked Timmy with 
her adult sized face, and smiled sweetly at him.  "Pretty strong, huh?" 
she asked as she tossed him ever so slightly up and down in her arms. 

"Yes, now put me down," said Timmy, gathering his composure back from 
being absolutely gone for the second time that day. 

"Okay," she said placing him on the ground and sitting down beside him.  
"Wanna feel my muscles?" she offered, and pulled up the sleeve of her 
sweatshirt to just above her upper arm. Timmy looked at the biggest arm 
he had ever seen, even as it hung relaxed at her side.  "Come on, feel 
my muscle," she said and this time flexed the huge piles of massive 
muscles into thick peaks and valleys of biceps and triceps.  Timmy 
watched her swing her arm from in front of her, to out at her side, 
seeing the round peak of bicep from the back become an incredibly wide, 
powerful looking anvil of stone muscle, then to a front view of the most 
awesome arm he had ever been anywhere near. 

"Your muscles are very big," Timmy said dryly. 

Deanna sat up on her knees, and pulled up the other sleeve of her 
sweatshirt.  "Let's wrestle," she challenged, reaching a long arm out to 
push Timmy slightly. 

"No," Timmy replied. 

"Why not," Deanna asked, seeming a bit puzzled, "You're a boy, and boys 
wrestle a lot." 


"Not me," Timmy said turning away from Deanna as he spoke. 

"Why not," she said again. 

"Because I lose." 



***************** 


Timmy found Deanna to be a huge pain in more ways than one. Three years 
had passed since she had come into the family, and Timmy's life had been 
a downhill slide ever since.  In school, he, who before had been a 
nobody, found out that having the most muscular and tall girl in the 
world as a sister was nothing but inconvenience.  Now the bullies had 
one unifying theme to their taunts, where before there had been no good 
reason to single him out.  High school was not so much about getting 
beaten up as it was the psychological torment he had to endure.  Anyone 
who did want 

to talk to him eventually wanted to know all about Deanna- how strong 
she was, how tall she was, and everything else. 

Home, however, was worse.  His father had gotten a job in consulting 
that kept him away from home most of the time, and that meant there was 
no one to keep Deanna in line.  She always wanted to wrestle, or tackle, 
or apply some type of pressure to him.  One night when she had a bad day 
at school, she picked him up without saying a word, carried him upstairs 
to her room, laid down on the bed with him between her monstrous legs, 
and spent the next couple of hours squeezing him until he couldn't 
breath, and then letting go just before he passed out. 

Another particularly bad night she had just gotten done working out in 
the basement, and had for some reason not gotten the burn she required.  
So, she went into Timmy's room, where she found him reading as usual, 
and told him it was time to arm wrestle. "This is going to be part of my 
workout tonight, so I need you to put up a good fight," she teasingly 
threatened.  Timmy had learned that the least painful and time consuming 
way to deal with these situations was to simply try to do what she 
wanted, just not well, and most likely, she'd leave soon.  So he limply 
placed his hand on the table he used for a desk and let his gigantic 
sister kneel on the floor next to him.  They locked hands, and 
immediately Deanna applied a squeezing force to Timmy's hand unlike any 
other he had felt from her.  She then closed her eyes while Timmy used 
both hands to try to pull his hand from her unyielding grip, and began 
to force his hand down to the table and toward her.  She increased the 
squeezing force of her hand crushing and rolling the bones of Timmy's 
hand while repeating the arm wrestling movement, causing Timmy to 
redouble his efforts to escape her punishing grip.  After an eternity of 
reps she opened her eyes and grabbed Timmy's other hand, putting it 
through the very same torture.  Timmy tried to resist.  He thought that 
he might use all of his strength to slip out of her iron fist.  He 
thought about running away to some place where her big strong body 
couldn't reach him.  But the pain continued. 

Deanna reached the point with his left hand that she had with his right, 
but felt that he hadn't struggled as well this time and so she'd need a 
little extra work.  With that, she crushed down on his hand with a 
mighty blast of the monumental strength of her forearms, feeling the 
luscious sensation of his weak bones breaking under her amazing power, 
feeling the release of frustration as her hand ground the small hand in 
her grip freely, without the pitiful resistance of his bones.  His body 
went limp from the pain, so the constant struggling against her strength 
was gone.  She pulled on his arm to bring his body within range of her 
monstrous legs, and flexed them around him until she felt a rib or two 
pop here and there and her sweat soaked body rumbled through the orgasm 
she had been seeking.  She released his hand from hers and gave one last 
blast to his torso with her legs, before leaving her brother crying on 
the floor. 


**************** 


It was finally graduation day for Timmy, and his mood, in spite of the 
absolute dread he felt of his sister now, was better than usual.  He 
cried frequently now.  He had abandoned everything he had ever been 
taught about being a man, and simply lived to avoid his sister and the 
pain she meant.  After the hand breaking incident she had backed off, 
and been very nice to him.  But still the fear. She had asked his 
forgiveness and he willingly gave it to her, but more out of fear than 
forgiveness.  She sensed the great damage she had done to him that 
night, not only physically, but mentally, but had lost far too much of 
his trust to ever express her remorse to him.  But he would leave for 
college, and soon forget the damage done to him.  Then she would have a 
brother again. 

The graduation ceremony was like a reparation to Timmy for all the 
injustices he had suffered at school.  He was the class valedictorian 
and for once in four years of high school, he was proud of himself.  As 
a matter of taste, he gave credit to all his teachers and classmates for 
providing him with fond memories to carry him throughout his life, and 
wished everyone good fortune from that day forward.  As a matter of 
fact, he felt exactly the opposite- he felt his teachers had been 
irresponsible in allowing him to suffer the slings and arrows of his 
contemporaries for so many years, and wished them all a great deal of 
misfortune and pain as long as God would allow them to infest the earth. 

He gave the obligatory fond farewells to all the girls that hadn't 
directed three consecutive words to him in four years of high school 
after the ceremony, and milled about the school property, raking in the 
praises of parents and administrators. 
 
Eventually, he began the trek across the football practice field to his 
car, where his parents had promised to meet him.  In the middle of the 
field he saw his sister, surrounded by a couple dozen of his classmates 
and their siblings, talking about feats of strength and athletic 
prowess, no doubt.  He wasn't thrilled to see her waiting there for him, 
because it meant he would have to stand next to her, for all to see the 
comparison between them.  On the other hand, it was his day.  She was 
excited for him, and had even dressed conservatively in a dress and 
heels, which she hated. So he walked over to the group, eliciting a 
squeal from Deanna, who mowed over some guys to run and give Timmy a 
hug. 

Timmy braced himself, but the hug was gentle and short.  She gave Timmy 
a quick kiss, actually bending down to kiss his cheek instead of the 
demeaning kiss to the top of his head to which he had grown accustomed. 
"That was a cool speech, Timmy," she said smiling down at him.  He 
thanked her politely and looked back at the crowd that was now reforming 
around Deanna, and now Timmy also.  "Can I see the medallion?" Deanna 
asked, and Timmy removed his honor award so she could look at it.  John, 
a big basketball player, and not a particularly good one at that, peered 
around Deanna's mountainous shoulder at the medallion as well before 
congratulating Timmy.  His lead prompted a flood of compliments from the 
group, which made Timmy blush and quietly acknowledge the praise. 

Several voices directed themselves at Deanna, but she continued to ask 
Timmy questions about the ceremony.  Was he uncomfortable in front of 
everyone, was the big chair in which he had been seated comfortable, was 
the scepter of knowledge heavy?  Timmy didn't mind the attention, but 
could feel the collection around him was getting bored with Timmy now 
and wanting to refocus on the big amazon whose broad, cannonball sized 
calves bulged with power from the constant flexing her high heels were 
applying to them.  "Listen, Deanna, mom and dad are waiting," Timmy 
interrupted and motioned to her to move across the field. 

Deanna said a couple of quick good-byes, then bounded over beside Timmy, 
walking along with him to the parking lot.  "That was a real nice 
ceremony," Deanna concluded.  "I just hope its as nice when I'm class 
valedictorian!" she exclaimed bouncing past Timmy toward the cars. That 
statement, however, stopped Timmy in his tracks. 

"When you're valedictorian?" he snuffed.  "You've had trouble in school 
all along.  How are you going to be the top of your class?" Timmy 
laughed at the thought of Deanna crouching over to speak into the 
microphone to give the graduation address.  He could picture her 
accepting the Heisman trophy more easily than her bearing the standard 
of learning. In fact, the idea struck him as so ridiculous, he had to 
stop to weigh the full comic gravity of it.  Had it been another day, he 
might have stopped to rethink what he was about to do.  But it wasn't, 
and he didn't. 

"I think you'd better worry about understanding math before you start 
dreaming about how high you can get your GPA," he said in a loud enough 
voice so that the remnants of Deanna's fan club scattered across the 
football field could hear.  "Of course I suppose you could be the 
remedial valedictorian!"  Timmy punctuated himself with a laugh that 
would have been embarrassing indoors. 

"You don't have to get mean about it," Deanna said, almost hurt, and 
turning to face him front to front.  But Timmy was really rolling now. 


"Well, it will certainly make our school look good later on, when one of 
our valedictorians has gone on to win the Nobel prize in phys ed. 

"You could make your speech more exciting by doing pushups for all the 
A's you've gotten in school...," Timmy kept ripping. 

"Tim, stop," Deanna begged, genuinely hurt now. 

"Of course, you'd only have to do three.  Unless, obviously, English 
teachers start giving out bonus for bench pressing," Timmy went on, 
unrelenting, relishing the helpless look on Deanna's face as he 
overmatched her in the one way he could.  It was time for her 
comeuppance, and Timmy decided he was going to deliver.  The crowd had 
reformed, this time listening to the one man show being put on at the 
expense of the hulking young woman squared off against the smaller but 
livid man in the black gown.  And they loved it.  Even as admiring as 
they were toward the woman, whose eyes were filling with sadness and a 
tinge of hate, they couldn't resist the Robin Williams-esque torrent of 
insults that got funnier as they came.  Perhaps even funnier was the 
momentum building in the jester, growing out of three years of pent up 
frustration.  Timmy knew he was making a public debacle out 

of Deanna- and he didn't care. 

But intelligence is not wisdom. 

Deanna wasn't even registering the new insults now.  She only saw the 
crowd, and the hate in Timmy's face, as he dug deeper and deeper for 
ever more insulting jibes to hurl at her.  The crowd was like an insult 
amplifier, sharpening the arrows, adding weight to the stones.  Pain, 
sadness, indignation began to morph into anger.  Deanna's back tensed, 
pulling the delicate fabric of her dress tighter around her torso, 
adding to the smothering feeling she was experiencing.  Her legs began 
to lock, the muscle creasing into a graphic relief of strength on her 
thighs, the calves knotting into tense layers of wicked power.  Her 
whole body coiled, begged 

to be used, or rather, unleashed, like waters surging behind a dam about 
to crack in two.  The zipper on the back of her dress began to tear away 
from the fabric, the weak seams unable to contain the wide, powerful 
muscle that began to expand in every direction.  Sweat began to roll 
down the insides of her legs, adding to the uncomfortable feeling that 
something needed to be done with them.  Deanna, however, waited for one 
more. 

" 'My fellow classmates, I'd have more to say about the years we toiled 
in class together here at Highland High, if only I knew what 'toiled' 
meant.' " 

Timmy knew in an instant how bad a mistake he had made.  It only took 
the truck a second to cover the fifteen feet separating them.  But 
still, a second is a long time to contemplate a mortal error.  Then he 
was three feet off the ground in the most powerful grasp of powerhouse 
arms he would ever know.  The laughs of the collection of onlookers 
turned to instant stunned silence.  One lone sound broke the still- the 
sound of Deanna's dress tearing from the split near her knees up to 
glutes that flexed together in a fearsome square of muscle.  Timmy 
closed his eyes, wetting with tears of anticipation, and his body 
shivered with the urgency it felt to get out of the trap it was now in.  
"So, I'm stupid," Deanna said choked with adrenaline and emotion, "well, 
you're weak." 

'Red, screaming, hurt, it hurts. Get away. Can't breathe.' Timmy's back 
bent over the wide forearms clasped behind him.  He kicked and hit 
involuntarily at the stone body tightening all around him.  He felt the 
arms sliding past one another, the space between them closing smaller 
than it should have with him in it.  His world blurred in pain and 
pounding pressure.  Deanna simply dropped her head back, closed her eyes 
and gave her awesome power the outlet it sought so desperately.  She 
felt no resistance to her unstoppable strength, but only a sweet feeling 
of physically hugging weakness close to her.  She felt her chest swell 
against and over a small, frail one, felt her arms incapacitating 
insignificant ones within her grasp.  Her dress gave, the rear split in 
two, and a back unleashed, spread out, amazingly muscular and broad.  
She released her grip on Timmy, who slumped down to the ground. 

Deanna tore the dress from around her and rolled her shoulders, and 
flexed her entire upper body into an orgasm of muscle, biceps and 

triceps hiding all the giant muscles of her torso completely from view. 

Timmy's crying finally escaped his mouth, as air rushed in and was 
forced immediately back out to fill the field with the sobbing of a 
little girl, but with an desperation of a stranded man on a barren 
island. 

Deanna didn't even open her eyes as she straddled Timmy, turned him over 
without effort, and dropped her enormous weight on his back, blasting 
the breath from his body.  She bunched her legs together, then out in 
front of her, trapping Timmy between their bulk, so that the small of 
his back became her seat, and his underarms, garters, barely spanning 
the tops of her solid legs.  She fastened her huge hands under his chin, 
and bent her knees, forcing her calves to bulge against her chiseled 
hamstrings, and adding pressure to the sides of Timmy's punished chest.  
Each minute breath that Timmy could gather was expelled in short, 
rasping screams, as his back was bowed by an irresistible force. 

Deanna held him like that for a long while, wanting to pull his head up 
to hers, to kiss the top of his head while his pathetic back shattered.  
But she soon became aware of the crowd, now bigger, and closed in a 
tight circle around the clinic of punishment she was holding.  She 
should have been ashamed- naked, except for her overstretched bra and 
panties that had gathered between her monstrous glutes.  But she wasn't.  
In fact, she began to play to the crowd by pulling Timmy's head up 
higher, then letting it down to hear the shrill embodiment of pain that 
Timmy's trapped body had no other way of expressing. 

The wonderful feeling of destruction with her bare hands got the better 
of her and she resolved to bring her thighs together while hugging his 
head to her chest, simultaneously crushing his ribs and snapping his 
back like a twig.  She began to pull, and crush.  Timmy let all his 
essence out in one long sob, knowing that it was the end of his life.  
But as she began to pull farther, she heard Timmy's back crack, felt his 
ribs yield and came to her senses, sparing Timmy.  She released her 
grips on him, and sat sullenly on him, numb from her outpouring of 
might. 

Timmy lay sobbing. He vaguely cried for his mother, partly for death, 
and begged for an end to feeling.  He had lost every shred of dignity, 
all semblance of human pride. 

From across the field, Timmy's father came storming, jacket off, and 
ordered Deanna to get up, which she quickly did, running off in the 
direction of Sheila and the car. 

Timmy's father picked him up and tried to compose him.  Timmy was 
sobbing uncontrollably.  He wanted to die.  He wanted to kill.  He 
didn't want anything. 

As his father walked him to the car, he saw the faces of the people 
gathered around.  He saw shock, pity, disgust, and so many more 
emotions. Emotion, pride, he hated them.  He began screaming again.  
"No, no, nooo!" He let his legs drop out from under him, out of his 
father's grip.  Before anyone could say or do anything, he ran, breaking 
on unsteady legs toward the woods at the other side of the field.  They 
seemed a million miles away, their unfeeling, unemotional safety 
unreachable.  Timmy's father called to him, expecting him to stop.  He 
didn't. 


   ***************** 


Timmy's family waited for Timmy for the entire night after graduation 
day, and his father didn't sleep for three days after.  Sheila said very 
little, and Deanna didn't speak at all.  She didn't have to look at her 
father to know what he thought about her, and she didn't think she could 
bear the pain of seeing what she had done to Timmy. 

The police were contacted, but no one had definitely seen Timmy in the 
week since that day.  Timmy's father began to fall apart and despair, 
but Sheila and amazingly Deanna kept him in control for a while.  The 
bank, hearing that he was missing, called to report that the day after 
graduation, Timmy visited in a grass stained suit looking very peculiar 
and closed both his checking and savings accounts. 

Timmy's father stayed hopeful for weeks after the bank called, but 
eventually came to accept the reality that his only son was dead.  His 
son was not strong enough to survive, and so the world had killed him 
for his weakness.  Instead of blaming Deanna, he grew quite close to 
her, both of them helping each other cope. 

Timmy's father died when Deanna turned 24.  Sheila and Deanna discovered 
his will leaving a huge sum of money he had saved and hoped to give to 
Tim to start a business after college.  They divided the money equally, 
said an emotional good-bye, and got on with other lives.  They lost 
contact within two years. 







 'The Price of Manhood'- Chapter 1 
 

 Her sighs turned to breathy moans as his struggling became more 
desperate.  Her powerful thighs pounded together around his trapped 
knees, grinding his weak legs between her awesomely powerful ones... and 
she was just beginning to get aroused. 

 She removed her arms from their place around his head only to replace 
them under his arms.  She needed to stretch out to really feel his body 
writhing from the pain she was causing him.  Just for fun, she extended 
her legs with his still secured between them and engulfed his back in 
the huge boulders of her biceps, triceps and forearms.  His hips popped 
terribly under the stress, causing their owner to begin a deep, long 
scream.  No sooner did the scream begin, than it was squeezed out of him 
by the clenched fists, crossed behind his back.  Her muscles swelled 
with gleeful power, and so enjoyable was the feeling of crushing his now 
deflated chest to her rock solid mass of chest muscles, that she opened 
each hand flat against his back and let the enormous muscles bunch and 
clench until her entire upper body had squeezed him for a full ten 
count.  The crunch of puny ribs against her made her never want to stop, 
but she knew a few more cracks would mean his end. 
 
 She let go of his ruined chest and hoisted herself up by planting one 
hand squarely on his forehead and raising her body with that arm.  Her 
thick tricep deepened with the effort while she collected his upper and 
lower arm together in her other gigantic hand.  "Now, screaming in my 
ear wasn't very nice of you, and someone with arms this weak certainly 
should be very nice to me," she said as she squeezed his arm together 
like a nutcracker, with his thin bicep the unwilling nut.  She admired 
her vast forearm with a charming innocence, alternately adding and 
removing pressure to his trapped arm and watching the thick muscle layer 
and gather, then recede into an equally strong looking slab powering her 
fingers to ruin his pitiful limb. 

 She looked directly into his tear streamed eyes as she backed off the 
pressure her gargantuan body was giving him.  She released his arm and 
slowly, gently put her hand into his armpit, never breaking eye contact.  
She had even relaxed her grinding legs, which up to now had been a 
constant source of rhythmic pain.  Her hand still pressed his head into 
the mattress with the force of her incredible muscular weight, but that 
dull pain was a mere unpleasantness, comparatively.  Almost half a 
minute passed of a stifled whimpering, while he awaited her next move 
and she relished his fear and anxiousness. 

 With one powerful motion, her entire body rolled over and off the bed, 
bringing a small, trapped passenger with it.  He was still caught 
between her legs, but the transition had positioned her legs higher on 
his body.  He was now trapped between standing mountains of muscular 
power, her legs beginning just at the base of his shattered ribs and 
ending, firmly engulfing his hips.  She looked down at him, as he 
wheezed violently from the damage to his insides.  She sighed seeing him 
so far down in her swelling muscles, and with a carefree gesture, opened 
her crushing hold just enough to get him in contact with her wet 
genitals.  She looked foreword, and a great smile spread across her face 
as she slammed her thick, heavy leg muscles together ferociously, and 
increased the monumental pressure by standing and flexing every inch of 
her incredible power-packed body. She was looking across the room into 
the posing mirrors that lined the opposite wall, and the sight was 
breathtaking.  She 

raised her arms high above her head as if beseeching God for even more 
strength, and brought them down in an unearthly double bicep, each arm 
laden with so much fearsome muscle that the thick, full biceps met the 
broad, full forearms by the time she had flexed to a ninety-degree 
angle.  She pushed the arms together even further, until her muscles 
made a wall of power beside her bulging shoulders and strong neck. 

 The now almost totally limp figure smashed horribly in the sea of lower 
body muscle had only had the strength to struggle through about half of 
the bicep pose, but pounding on the unfeeling monstrous legs that 
tortured him did him absolutely no good.  The owner of those inhumanly 
strong legs felt the struggle go out of him, and imagined he would soon 
loose consciousness, or worse.  So as not to deprive him his last 
blessed moment with her, she gathered him up with her hands in his 
armpits and keeping him trapped high in her muscular vice, squatted down 
low and rose up to bring her legs together, flexing them as powerfully 
as she could, crushing him ever harder and harder.  She closed her eyes 
and concentrated on adding pressure to his sides while the muscle 
expanded all around his trapped body, pushing, squeezing, smashing.  She 
sighed as she felt the pure pleasure of his body giving in to hers, 
totally unable to resist the will of her legs.  She squatted again, and 
this time rose slowly, savoring the feeling of his weakness succumbing 
to her muscle.  He had stopped giving any sign of life with the first 
crushing squat, but his body had, unfortunately for him, managed to 
yield a tiny amount of resistance which gave her the motivation to go on 
crushing. 

 She pushed her fist in between his broken body and her excited pussy 
and rubbed the hard knuckles both across her full clitoris and his 
pathetic chest.  She looked back to the mirror to see the vision of 
ultimate dominance she had created, and while she rubbed she moved one 
leg forward and shook the great muscle back and forth until she snapped 
it with force enough to shake the broken form of weakness from between 
the masses of muscle that crushed it.  She saw the crevices deepen, the 
bands of muscle form on the wide teardrop that bulged over her knee and 
felt the satisfying burn of a huge muscle being flexed after a good 
workout. After admiring one leg, while still rubbing herself vigorously, 
she brought forth the other great giant, adding the other hand to her 
twitching cunt and lacing her fingers together.  She flexed her wide 
chest and watched the hardened nipples push downward as the muscles 
underneath spread and raised high above her sternum, nestled deep and 
safe between the amazing thickness of her chest. 

 Her orgasm came sharply as she imagined crushing the struggling man 
just now released from her inescapable body and as she came back to 
reality she thought about where another, more fit 'wrestling' partner 
might be found. There wouldn't be much hope for more action from this 
one. 


 ************** 


 Melinda looked up at the sky and felt the warm sun  caressing her 
pretty face.  She almost smiled, but now wasn't the time for smiling, or 
for any pleasure for that matter. She was here to get Deanna back on 
duty, to reassemble the whole team from their short lived, and much 
deserved, and definitely much needed vacation.  And she was looking for 
a killer- several to be exact. 

 She never liked to see Deanna like this.  In all likelihood she would 
have a body, half alive or less, in her victim chair.  It was usually 
better not to think about what was happening in Deanna's apartment 
before you got there, but the irony always kept her guessing.  They had 
gotten together to punish criminals, to be the law when the law was 
ineffective, and Deanna certainly had been living somewhere on the line 
ever since.  But Deanna was power drunk, and that to Melinda was 
different than being overtly evil. At the very least, thinking that made 
Deanna tolerable. 
 
 Here was the massive red door that hid whatever Deanna had done to some 
guy.  Melinda took out her set of keys and found the one attached to the 
picture of Mt. McKinley, inserted it into the lock and turned.  After 
noticing the empty basket chair near the door, she walked quietly down 
the hall toward the sound of the blender in the kitchen and silently 
filled the doorway with her broad shoulders, waiting for Deanna to 
notice.  However, Deanna was making food, and it could be some time 
before she would turn her attention away from her business, so after 
about a minute, she cleared her throat.  The immense shoulders at work 
near the sink turned toward the doorway, but before coming fully around 
to face the hall, the shoulders spoke.  "Sit down and have some 
breakfast Shrimp.  I planned on cooking for two today." 
 
 "Good, you've been reading the paper. See, I told you reading lessons 
would pay off," Melinda said pleasantly, sitting down and laying her 
purse on the table. 
 
 "Oh, we're in a good mood today," replied Deanna, in a singsong voice, 
turning her giant body with two appropriately proportioned plates of 
breakfast toward the table.  "What's got you in such a fine way?" she 
asked with a knowing little wink. 

 "It's nothing like that at all," began Melinda with a mouth full of 
food, "it's just that I expected some damn corpse in here again, but I 
see that the victim chair is empty, thank goodness." 

 "Um..." came the response from her tablemate.  Melinda looked up to see 
a guilty finger pointing through the serving window to the playroom.  
Melinda stood up from the table to look in on a small man, visibly 
injured extensively, facing away from her, whose breathing made his 
whole body shudder. 

 "Not again," said Melinda with exhausted desperation, as Deanna 
shrugged without looking up and continued to eat.  

--





  'The Price of Manhood'- Chapter 2 



"Blood, blood, blood..." The chant from the frenzied audience rose 
higher and higher as the glistening queen of the ring casually toweled 
herself off and calmly treated herself to a cool sip of water, a 
symbolic gesture for those who knew the habits of the tigress.  The 
water meant that the fight was over- not that it had ended, but that the 
outcome had been decided.  And the amazon never lost, especially after 
her water. 

 The bell signaling round 3 rang in Devin's ears like the rumble of an 
atomic bomb.  He was facing the turnbuckle, trying to regroup, trying to 
recover, trying to devise some way to survive.  He only needed a few 
more minutes to collect his thoughts- a few more minutes that he didn't 
have. 

 Everything seemed to be running in slow motion-everything, that is, 
except her.  No sooner had he turned his head, reluctant to face her 
again, than he felt the incredible shock that had surprised him in the 
first few seconds of the match.  Her long, strong leg connected solidly 
with his soft stomach, doing untold damage to the even softer things 
inside.  He doubled over, but this time the recoil of his body would not 
save him from most of the power of the kick.  She had kicked him 
directly into the hard steel of the ring corner, but even worse, she had 
been airborne at the time.  Her leg bent deftly and once her forward 
progress into his body stopped, she merely lunged outward again, at the 
expense of Devin's body, by pushing off with her coiled leg muscles.  
She landed a few feet in front of her gasping opponent, and giving him 
too much credit, stood ready for his retaliation.  There was none. 

 "Finish him, finish him..." came the new war cry of the pack gathered 
at ringside.  The smiling lioness was all too happy to oblige, and in 
yet another symbol of the hopelessness of the fallen man's situation, 
she moved within inches of his gasping, prone body, and slowly turned 
her back to him to remove her boxing gloves.  After tossing the gloves 
to the screaming fans, the statuesque woman, soon to be giving a clinic 
on male suffering, began to stretch her densely muscular arms for the 
adoring crowd.  She flexed each muscle to make sure they were all in 
good working order for their new assignment, and then strode sexily over 
to the man now on his knees and adjusting his vision.  She towered over 
him and he looked up to her, not sure what to expect, or what to do 
about whatever came.  After listening to several suggestions from the 
crowd, she smiled down at him, and taking his arm carefully in her 
hands, helped him to his feet.  A somewhat disappointed murmur 
circulated through the audience as the victor lead her victim across the 
canvas and toward the door.  However, at the center of the ring she 
stopped, as if she heard a voice from somewhere that she couldn't see.  
Devin looked out of abused eyes at her, trying to locate the thing that 
she found suddenly so distracting. 

She seemed to come out of the fog, and turned Devin to face her, asking 
him if he was all right.  "I've been better," he said, suppressing a 
painful laugh.  An even deeper look of concern spread across her face, 
to which he reassured her, "I'm okay." 

 "Great," came her response.  In an instant she had bent down on her 
powerful legs and begun a volley of incredible punches to Devin's 
wretched abdomen.  Again and again came her hard fists, each blow worse 
than the last, searching for the weakest and most painful spots on his 
body, yet not leaving an inch untouched.  Devin staggered with the shock 
as her fists landed mercilessly on his midsection, punishing him as if 
his stomach had personally offended her.  He felt the blows weaken him 
and it began to seem that her small hard fists were concentrating into 
points, and each point drove deeper and deeper into his insides.  He 
swayed back and wanted to fall, but she now prevented even that, 
delivering uppercuts that opposed whatever direction he tried to fall.  
So powerful were her punches, that each one stood him up and kept him on 
his feet even though his legs had been drained of the energy to keep him 
standing.  Now to the right kidney and back to his front, on his left 
and right again, she seemed to be everywhere, on all sides of him, and 
she cruelly kept him up as her punching bag. 

Finally, after crouching almost to the ground and driving up with the 
strength of her entire body, she smashed her fist into his chin, 
delivering him from the pain he was in and sending his falling body back 
the other direction, so he would land on his back.  Before he could make 
it to the safety of the tarp, however, she darted behind him and got 
down on her knees directly in the path of his back on its descent to the 
ground. Just before his head hit hers, she braced herself back on her 
haunches and powered a tremendous uppercut directly into his spine.  His 
head made a dangerous looking snap as his body jolted back; her punch 
made him retrace his fall, almost back to standing.  With this 
calibrating punch she adjusted and waited for his body to swing back 
down to her.  This time she began a volley of much weaker punches that 
simply offset his weight.  He was levitated on a bed of fists for a full 
twenty seconds, before the amazing amazon tired of that game, and simply 
swept his legs out from under him by punching his right knee with enough 
force to knock it into the left one.  He hit the mat like two hundred 
pounds of dead weight, which was more or less what he was. 

 The crowd, mesmerized by the entire scene, finally caught its breath, 
and an explosion of unbridled joy burst from everywhere in the 
auditorium.  She rose beside his prone motionless body, and bringing her 
foot straight up like a high stepping soldier, crushed down on his 
thighs with her pile driver feet, delivering stomp after stomp until the 
once straight bones in his upper and lower legs had broken and 
splintered.  Her wine making impression ended with the multiple bells of 
an official stoppage of the fight and the pudgy referee scrambled into 
the ring to announce the winner. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the still undefeated, still unchallenged scourge 
of the ring, the mistress of misery, the undisputed champion of the 
Fighting Forum - Sunshine!" 


 ************ 


 Sunshine looked down the street toward the taxis, lined up and waiting 
for the rich, high profile members of the fight audience to summon them.  
It was usually more discrete to use the taxis than their own limos and 
towncars, and for a generous enough tip, the cabbies would keep the 
identities of the guests to themselves. 

 Before she could hail one of them, she spotted the big black van with 
the tinted windows pull around the corner to the front of the unused 
warehouse that had hosted tonight's battle, if you could even call it 
that.  When the van pulled up to the curb in front of her, she hit a 
quick double bicep pose in the dark window and gave a quick bow before 
opening the passenger door and climbing in. 

 "Not too shabby tonight Sunny, though I'm disappointed in the fight 
taking so long," came a voice from the deep recesses of the van. 

 "Hey, people pay big money for these fights.  Time is as important as 
quality to some people.  Plus you gotta give them something to bet on.  
If I start finishing them in round one, that's the end of all those 
bets," came the reply from Sunshine, now intent on fixing her hair in 
the visor mirror. 

 "Well, play time is over for a while my dear," started Melinda as she 
turned the corner from the warehouses of Standard Avenue to the 
whorehouses of Peak Street, near the very center of the city. 

 Sunshine disengaged herself from her preening to reply to the driver, 
whose usually lilting voice hinted at the concern she felt for their 
next job.  "This shit's gettin' pretty thick, huh boss?" she said 
matching Melinda's demeanor.  "We aren't even talking about some sicko 
serial rapist now, I mean, this is going to be really rough." 


 "I wish I could say that it would be easy..." Melinda replied, 
expelling a heavy sight. 

 Uncharacteristically joining in the dark mood, Deanna, the giant taking 
up the two back seats of the van offered her thoughts.  "You see a 
corpse, and, you know, you want to shake them until they just wake back 
up.  Only this time, we're gonna be seeing a lot more than just one 
corpse." 

 "Well, a stiff is a stiff," Sunshine came back, "but I don't need to 
see some gruesome shit." 

 "Don't worry."  Melinda had pulled up to the red light at the 
intersection of Peak and Yonsy Boulevard, and rubbed her extremely stiff 
neck while watching a group of middle aged men passing the bottle on the 
steps of what used to be an elegant department store in a different 
time.  "If you can take dealing out that kind of a beating to some poor 
schmuck, you can see wounds on a murder victim." 


 Sunshine looked down at her short, neat fingernails, and sat silently 
until the van obeyed its green light and started deeper into the seedy 
district it had entered.  "At least he'll recover," came her almost 
defensive, but quiet response. 


 *********** 


 "Leonard, you're not resisting me," sang the raven-haired woman, while 
she smoothed and turned her somewhat misaligned black fishnet pantyhose 
on her well muscled thighs.  The thighs also happened to be wrapped 
tightly around the middle of the stocky and heavily panting man 
engrossed in forcing her equally well muscled arm to the table at which 
they both sat.  It was obvious that for him to overcome her formidable 
strength in the armwrestling contest would be chore enough, but he was 
apparently not aided by the shortness of breath and pain caused to him 
by the sinuous calves flexed into balls of rock behind him.  The calves 
were, not accidentally, holding the great power of her crushing legs 
inescapably around his torso, and the effect was to detract from his 
already poor power to overcome the hard, wide mass of bicep that 
prevented his every attempt to move the steel arm. 

 "My dear, you know what happens if I don't think you're trying don't 
you?" asked the woman, as sweetly as if she was offering him a cookie he 
didn't want.  Her forearm flexed as her grip began to compress his hand 
together, forefinger to pinkie, and she held him firmly in the starting 
position.  He winced but decided to save his cry for the next stage.  
She, however, continued to let her forearm gather, increasing the bowing 
of his hand.  "How's the vice feel tonight Leonard? Tight enough?" The 
pressure increased.  "I wouldn't my hand to slip away from you when 
you're so close to winning." 

Bones in the iron grasp began to give and Leonard now focused his energy 
on getting his collapsing hand out of the irresistible grip.  Just when 
he had almost forgotten where he was from the pain, the legs around his 
abdomen loosened for just a moment, then crushed back against him, 
pulsing with power, and turning from bags of gravel to solid granite on 
impact with his sides.  The crushed hand was released from its torture, 
but still held in place, at the beginning position for armwrestling over 
the table.  Leonard didn't notice, however, as his attention was 
distracted by a new constriction. 

 She felt the chills run through her groin and all over her vast leg 
muscles as they flexed and squeezed their victim, rubbing ever so 
slightly on the middle trapped between them to keep the pressure varying 
and the pain constantly renewed.  She backed them off, and gave the man 
exactly a one count to inhale 

before she launched them back into his body, and ground him in their 
hugeness again.  Their power was utterly beyond the ability of his body 
to resist, and indeed he couldn't move any part of his body in the 
overwhelming grip.  She totally released his hand, and moved her 
chairback to her side so that she could lay out and pull him off his 
chair and onto the floor. She then slid out of her chair and walked 
backward with her hands, dragging him out from under the table and into 
the center of 

the room. 

 Once she had positioned herself to her liking, she poured one last 
fearsomely strong flex into her legs, forcing a breathless gurgle from 
him, and then released him.  He gasped for air, as his body begged his 
lungs for oxygen and his brain warned that it might be his last chance 
to get it for a while. She watched Leonard catch his breath for a time, 
and then slithered over to him and lay on top of him, making sure her 
full weight rested on him.  She began to wrap her arms around his upper 
chest and feel him try to squirm away.  Once she had clasped her hands 
behind his back and laced her fingers, he became very still, and looking 
into her face, found out she approved. 

"I like to feel my strong arms around you, don't you?" she asked her 
captive.  He silently nodded his agreement. "I feel my power over your 
weak body and I can feel you shivering because you know what will happen 
if I go like this," she began, and placing her chin on his shoulder, 
drew him against her with wrenching force, as the wind again left him. 
She let up quickly, and looked into his red face, to see the pain slowly 
being replaced by anxiety over what was next to come.  "But I won't do 
that unless I have to, will I?" she cooed, rubbing her chest against 
his.  "I like the feeling of my nipples raking against your chest."  She 
watched her own small breasts massaging the soft white skin beneath her, 
seeing the hard nipples leave pink trails where they pressed into him. 
"Even the softest part of me can hurt you," she sighed.  "You had better 
convince the thick muscles on my chest not to." 

 She raised her chest up and pulled his back with her clasped hands 
until his head was a mere inch from her thick nipples.  He strained his 
neck and kissed the hard tip of each breast, then swirled his tongue on 
each raised nipple.  She teased him by flexing her broad chest 
intermittently, causing the muscle to swell up and over the soft breast 
tissue and pushing her nipples down, a hair's width away from his 
tongue's reach.  As the licking and kissing excited her more, her grip 
strengthened, bringing him closer to her chest and giving him access to 
a greater area of her chest.  She was rubbing her legs all over his 
lower body, but only briefly touching his now blazing erection in 
passing.  She became more and more excited and although she continued to 
increase her crushing hug, she left him plenty of energy to continue. 

 Soon, the excitement became too much for her, and she needed more 
fulfillment.  She sat up quickly, and ordered him to turn over on his 
stomach.  Once he had done so, she removed her G-string and planted her 
crotch directly on his head.  She sat her weight back on his neck, and 
proceeded to bounce up and down, rubbing herself awkwardly on the back 
of his head.  She continued this for a while, getting ever more aroused 
and putting his head through worse and worse pressure from stronger and 
stronger bounces until she clamped her inner thighs firmly on his head 
and rocked her full hips back and forth. 

"Now," she said, "I'm going to need you to do me a favor. You know what 
it is don't you honey?"  He grunted a muffled affirmation.  "So, if you 
do well, maybe I have something for you, something special." 

Not being in a position to argue, Leonard flipped himself over and began 
his 'favor' for his mistress.  She delighted in his wet tongue on her 
swelled vagina, and each time he touched a new fold, her thighs gave a 
smashing squeeze in on the sides of his face.  He continued licking 
until her hands locked behind his head, drawing him into her pussy, and 
signaling that she need the whole of his tongue in her tightly 
contracting hole. He felt dizzy and his jaw hurt badly from the 
combination of her thigh pressure and his tongue's straining reach, as 
he did his best to probe as deep into her muscular vagina as he could.  
He knew he had hit home when the pressure turned from painful to 
unbearable, but something deep inside him made him continue.  She began 
to contract all her lower body's muscles to pull him to the spot he had 
found; she needed his soft tongue pressed more firmly against her even 
more deeply, and she gathered his face feverishly into her crotch.  He 
hoped he could hold out in her burly thighs long enough to succeed. 

 She shuddered and clenched repeatedly for at least twenty seconds 
before he felt the moistness around his tongue increase a hundred times, 
and almost daring her to squeeze him to death, he pulled his tongue back 
into his mouth with as much suction as he could.  She came so violently, 
that he was actually spared his death squeeze, as she fell to her side, 
rubbing her clitoris violently, and bucking her hips to the rhythm of 
her imaginary partner.  It took her a full two minutes to recover, and 
when she did she did it with a coy smile.  "Oh, Leonard, you've outdone 
yourself this time. Why don't you go over to the couch and sit down, and 
get rid of those nasty underpants."  Leonard almost leapt the twenty 
feet across the room to the couch, and his shorts died a terrible, 
ripping death on the flight as his excitement was hardly containable. 

 He watched her reach into a cabinet across from the sofa, and produce a 
bottle containing a soft pink, highly viscous liquid, which she 
proceeded to squirt generously into her hand.  She rubbed the oil over 
her hard abdominals, flexing the muscles after each coat and massaging 
the deep cuts with her now slick hands.  From the abs to her small 
breasts set on ripped and rounded muscle, she applied more and more of 
the oil, letting it flow in her deep cleavage until she flexed her huge 
pecs together letting the oil spread out over her inner chest.  She 
massaged the oil over the chest to her shoulders, capped mightily with 
thick muscle, and continuing up her high traps over and across the top 
of her broad acre of back muscles.  She emptied a large helping of the 
oil into her hands and moved near to Lenny, flexing each seductive 
muscle in her body as she moved. Looking into his longing and worshipful 
face, she powered her deep triceps into high ridges of muscle and let 
first one hand, and then the other massage and squeeze the undentable 
muscle. 

 Taking one last handful of her enchanted oil, she held her left arm out 
and looked down its rugged length for what seemed to Leonard to be an 
unbearable eternity. Then, slowly, she turned to him, and made the huge 
bicep explode into a peak of gigantic muscle, quivering with strength 
until it was completely flexed- a mountain of power towering over the 
broad tricep that underlined it. She let the oil in her right hand drip 
from her fingertips until it had topped the enormous peak.  She then let 
the muscle rest down along her stone arm, until she slowly commanded it 
to swell to its awesome height again. During the flexing, the oil spread 
itself in a thin coat all along the amazing arm.  Instead of doing the 
other arm, however, she knelt down to a now almost insane Leonard and 
told him to scoot to the edge of the couch. He did so instantly and was 
rewarded with her slippery arm rubbed from forearm across bicep and up 
to deltoid over his diamond hard penis.  He instantly twitched, but she 
treated him to several quick bicep flexes directly into his scrotum, 
placing a great deal of force, but an inconceivable amount of pleasure 
into his genitals. 

 He came quickly, a fraction of a second after she moved out of range, 
and as he did, all the fatigue from the evening caught up with him, and 
he passed off into sleep immediately. 


 ************ 


 Donna had just gotten out of the shower in time to hear the knock at 
the front door.  It was unusual in this neighborhood to get visitors, 
and when they did come, they usually didn't mean to be sociable with 
their visit.  She pulled her robe on, and picked up the gun she kept in 
the hallway.  She crept up to the reinforced door, and listened at it 
for a moment before she asked who was there. 

 "Police, ma'am," came a deep female voice from the other side. 

 "You son of a bitch!" she screamed as she flung the gun back onto its 
perch and ripped the door open.  She was met in the doorway by a 
gigantic, seven foot frame with shoulders at least four feet across.  
Donna flew back the hallway a good eight feet before she felt herself 
being picked up and pinned against the ceiling by a body so powerful, 
she felt like she weighed nothing at all. 

 "Or should I say police, madam," giggled the tall form pressing her 
against the top of her hallway. 

 "Okay, Deanna, put me down," Donna said, conceding that her sneak 
attack had not worked. 

 "Surely you realize by now that we send the Wall in first," Melinda 
exclaimed to the still hoisted Donna. "I've been put into apartment 802 
one too many times." 

 "If you put me down, you can have anything in my refrigerator," 
bargained Donna, ignoring the tall blond passing under her and 
concentrating on working her way out of her situation. 

 As she descended back to the ground, she was told she had a deal, and 
watched as Deanna filled the path to the kitchen. She directed Sunshine 
and Melinda to follow her as she returned to the bedroom to put on some 
clothes.  Still asleep in the room adjacent to her bedroom was Leonard, 
snoring away, but not loosing the happy smile on his face.  She gently 
woke him up, and instructed him to shower up or whatever, and leave the 
usual fee on the table on the way out.  As he picked up the tattered 
remains of his clothes strewn about the room, Donna made a note of his 
next appointment, but said she might need to cancel and that she would 
call him by Monday.  She then put on a black jumpsuit and headed for the 
kitchen.  On her way through the hallway, she pulled the accessway door 
and locked it behind her. 

 The scene in the kitchen was one she had gotten used to over the past 
four years.  Melinda sat in her favorite chair, next to the back door 
that led to the fire escape, gently teasing Deanna for the amount of 
food she had taken out of the refrigerator to tide her over for their 
meeting.  Sunshine sat at the table with Deanna, talking on whatever 
subject might come up and risking her fingers to take a bite or two of 
whatever Deanna was devouring.  Donna activated the security blinds over 
the kitchen windows and also locked the door to the kitchen as she 
entered.  She took her usual place by the counter in the chair she used 
when she cooked, which faced directly opposite Melinda with the two 
other women between them. 


 Conversation this time was on how much money could actually be made by 
satisfying men's sexual fantasies pertaining to strong, muscular, 
powerful and dominating women, and the consensus seemed to be that the 
sky was the limit.  As the end of that topic neared however, a nervous 
silence fell onto the team, until Sunshine asked Melinda to start the 
briefing. 

"Might as well give it to us chief," she decided, "because it isn't 
going to go away." 

 As if she had almost forgotten why they were here again, Melinda took 
about a half a minute to look around the room and gather herself for 
what she had to say, for what needed to be said. "Well, I guess we all 
know what's happening," she began, "so let's start from there." She 
paused again. Once this meeting begins, once they get involved, she 
thought, there would be no turning back. 




  'The Price of Manhood'- Chapter 3 



If it hadn't been for the thin legs laid out behind her, it would have 
been impossible to tell that she was having sex with someone else.  The 
impossibly giant muscular body, rhythmically bouncing up and down, 
seemed to be alone on the floor, in the corner of the dark room.  But 
her seat was quite sure she was not alone. 

Her naked buttocks clenched ferociously as she came down, then relaxed 
on the upswing, pounding the body beneath her far beyond its tolerance.  
To add to her pain-giving pleasure, she clasp her wide hands over the 
small man's shoulders, covering the entire length from the nape of his 
neck to his upper arms, and squeezed in sync to her violent beat.  She 
had seated herself on his thighs, rendering his legs useless long ago, 
and had spent the last half hour satisfying herself on the now limp body 
she had chosen to ruin for her fulfillment.  As she came nearer to 
orgasm, she used one mighty arm, vascular and full, with muscle enough 
to make the small man's body disappear in its clutches, to pull his head 
against her side.  She pulled without regard to the complaints of the 
man's back, as it cracked and yielded, being bent across a thigh of 
almost twice its girth.  Enjoying the sensation of his body unable to 
withstand hers, and continuing her pumping on his hips and legs, she 
began using her free arm to deliver bone snapping, open-handed slaps to 
the back of his torso, leaving deep red imprints and forcing enough air 
from his lungs to cause low moans to emanate from the unconscious man's 
mouth. 


The combination of the pitiful noises and the weak, pliable body in her 
grasp began to push her over the edge. By instinct, the giant legs began 
to slowly coil around the thin midsection between them, not yet 
squeezing, but flexing-contracting the muscles into heavy, solid piles 
of power. She wanted his body to last until she was ready to give 
herself the orgasm she now sought, to the exclusion of all other 
thoughts.  Her bouncing had changed to rocking back and forth into the 
man's midsection, her monster crotch engulfing his abdomen, then backing 
off to roll his doughy thigh muscles unmercifully into the bones of his 
upper legs. She felt it building deep within her.  Her stomach began to 
tighten into amazing layers of impenetrable rock. She pulled back the 
columns of legs that waited patiently by his now seriously jeopardized 
sides, locking her ankles and spreading her toes.  She began to feel the 
moistness increase between her hips, which now feverishly drove into his 
body, crushing him in a foretaste of what was to come. 

Before she could bring the legs together, to complete the demolition of 
his body, and give herself the orgasm now needed by the goddess, a large 
set of hands gripped her feet, unexpectedly pulling her legs apart, and 
simultaneously throwing her to one side. 

The massive woman, in a frenzied heat, whirled around to refasten her 
pile-driver legs around her weak partner, but the little body was being 
lifted high above the floor by a body every bit as amazingly huge as her 
own.  She looked up in a rage at the face belonging to the cruel thief 
that had just robbed her of her pleasure, and rubbing her engorged clit 
ferociously, she managed a gruff threat; "Give him back." 

The mountainous woman, gently cradling the barely living man in her 
thick, safe arms, scolded, "Now, now. We're going to do this together, 
remember?  He's just one little baby for the both of us, so we have to 
make him last."  So saying, she carried the man over to a table near 
them, and laid him down on a blanket she had soaked with cold water just 
moments earlier.  She then walked over to the still sulking, 
masturbating giantess sitting on the floor, and gently offered her a 
hand to help her up. 

Reluctantly, the poor deprived woman rose with the aid of her companion, 
and sighed for the loss of the monster orgasm that had been brewing 
inside her so very recently.  The interloper gently kissed her cheek, 
and grazed her warm pussy with long, strong fingers.  "Relax, 
sweetheart.  You'll be more satisfied than that in a few minutes," she 
said with a warm smile and caress of Lori's wide arm. 

Lori stopped sulking now to acknowledge her partner's soothing as they 
both made their way over to the table where the crumpled man lay, 
awakened from the cold dampness surrounding him.  "But Kerri," Lori said 
with a feigned innocence, "he's so small. And very thin too." With that, 
she gently picked him up and held him close to her, his head just above 
her breasts, which glistened with a thin layer of sweat.  His injured 
legs hung down to just above where her knees were hidden from view by a 
thick knot of muscle.  Kerri came over to her and leaned against the 
man's back while Lori released him from his gentle hug.  Each of them 
let their massive weight come forward into him so that he was completely 
suspended off the ground by the pressure of their bodies against his.  
"Why you'd hardly notice that he was between us at all!" Lori exclaimed, 
again in a coy, childlike manner that made Kerri smile and join in. 

"Let's keep him nice and warm- he feels so cold," Kerri said as they 
both allowed more of their weight to fall 

in on the trapped body between them.  The droplets of ice water still 
beading on the thin body enraged the twin sets of nipples bookending the 
man, to the unanimous pleasure of the owners.  The man's breathing was 
becoming very labored, as more and more force began to keep his lungs in 
a state of compression.  

The two women looked over the top of his head and smiled mischievously 
at one another, as each began to flex her legs to add crushing power 
into the man.  Great calves bulged wide and full, as each woman matched 
her partner's push so that nothing moved except the man's stressed ribs.  
The banded quads on each of their legs began to harden with effort, and 
solid, powerful glutes contracted into ripped balls of muscle. 

"How about a hug," Lori finally said prompting Kerri to extend her arms 
around to Lori's bulging lats, as she did the same thing.  They backed 
the pressure off for just a second so that each of them could get a good 
view of the tiny victim they were about to compact.  Suddenly and both 
together, they pulled with such strength that what little air the lungs 
trapped between them could gather was expelled at a furious rate, 
sending a brief loud wail from them once again. The man's face turned 
red instantly, and Lori and Kerri both bent their heads to give him soft 
kisses, as if to thank him for his suffering. 

As quickly as the murderous embrace began it ended. Lori and Kerri laid 
down on the floor in sync, with Kerri on top, and the man's body still 
in the same place.  Kerri rotated herself so that she was near Lori's 
wetness and both of them placed their immense legs under the arms of the 
other. 

The grinding that started between them, as each gave the other oral 
pleasure, began to pull the man's body violently between them.  He was 
again unconscious, but now it didn't matter anyway to the two lovers 
with their unlucky sex toy.  Kerri's back spread wide with sinewy strong 
muscle, and just below her shoulders, Lori's pile-driver legs locked, 
pulling Kerri's tongue deeper into her, just as Kerri was doing to hers.  
The feeling of their invincible bodies ripping apart the tiny man began 
to add so much to their excitement that any regard they had had for the 
man's life or health was completely gone.  They laid together, pulling 
each other's body into him, squeezing their little victim to death. 

The orgasms came through their legs, as each clenched with her lower 
body, and whatever tiny distance the man's bones and organs had been 
able to keep the two bodies apart disintegrated into merely a few 
inches.  They thundered through their orgasms with pulsing bursts of 
gripping power which lasted nearly a minute- the man's body crushed 
totally between them.  Kerri rolled over to enjoy the afterglow, but 
Lori pulled the soft remains of the man in between her hateful thighs 
and continued to smash him until every bone left in his torso was 
essentially dust. 

They collected up their clothes and left the large studio room that was 
now a testament to the absolute power of their mighty bodies.  On their 
way to the front door of the apartment they saw the broken body of their 
first victim of the night, the man's butler.  He was breathing in 
shallow gasps, his back broken by Kerri's ferocious camel clutch before 
she applied one mighty flex of her thighs around his weak ribs, cracking 
them.  Lori picked him up and slung him over her broad shoulder, then 
turned and lowered herself and charged toward the side of the door, 
smashing the man's body between her gigantic, rock hard shoulder and the 
wall.  She shrugged several times, rolling her powerhouse traps and 
delts up and down, feeling and hearing his bones break.  Kerri watched 
until Lori finished demolishing him, then opened the front door and 
followed Lori out.  "Next time, we need to get a couple of guys apiece," 
Kerri observed and Lori nodded her agreement. 


 *************** 


Out of the darkness of the hallway, stepped a man.  The two giant women, 
quietly walking toward the elevators didn't see him engulfed in the 
shadows as they passed.  He watched them until they got into the 
elevator, then placing his huge automatic pistol back into his full-
length coat, walked down the hallway toward the penthouse.  He listened 
at the door for just a moment.  Satisfied, he produced a thin tool that 
he applied to the lock briefly, until the door opened.  He slipped 
inside after a quick but careful look in, and shut the door behind him. 



 **************** 


"There are thirty-three known victims so far," Melinda noted, starting 
the briefing that would mark the beginning of their involvement in the 
worst set of crimes any of them had ever seen.  "We have every reason to 
believe that the same killers are responsible for all thirty-three 
murders.  The M.O. has changed slightly over time, but is still distinct 
enough for us to group these killings together."  Melinda stopped and 
gathered herself, looking at the faces of her stunned counterparts, 
realizing that they had only read about the eight murders the papers 
were told were linked.  "The press only heard about the deaths that were 
gunshot wounds.  See, that's part of the change in M.O." 

Donna, setting her tablet down on the counter interrupted, "Just what is 
the basis of the procedure these killers are following?" 

Melinda looked down for just a moment before answering. "The victims," 
she replied, "are generally raped.  Though four of the first five 
victims were women, the killers have since restricted themselves to men, 
although there is no clear indication that the pattern will continue.  
The last eight, were, as I said, shot to death: actually, only one 
bullet per victim, directly through the heart.  But each and every 
victim so far has been crushed." 

"Crushed?" came the puzzled reply from Deanna, who had been, up to now, 
seemingly preoccupied with her thoughts. 

"Yes.  The bodies are all beaten viciously, most likely with some type 
of blunt, heavy object still to be determined.  Then, somehow, the 
killers are crushing nearly every major bone in most of the victim's 
bodies, with the skull being one notable exception.  Ribs, vertebrae, 
all the bones of the legs and feet, have been crushed to various degrees 
in most of the victims.  None have been found without some kind of 
extensive structural damage.  In fact, even those who died of bullet 
wounds would have most likely died of other injuries the killers 
inflicted.  The ones who did die from the maimings didn't die very 
quickly either.  A couple made it for perhaps days, paralyzed and 
unconscious, before they died of thirst." 

"Why do you assume that there are multiple killers?" Donna asked, again 
making notes in her book. 

"Practical reasons.  It would be too difficult for one person to do this 
kind of damage to these people without heavy equipment that was not 
found at the crime scene.  That means either the equipment was taken to 
the victims or they were taken 
to it, although lack of blood trails would suggest the former.  
Furthermore, these killings would take time, and many occurred on the 
same nights, within hours of one another." 

"Equipment that crushes,"  Deanna said quietly, looking down. 

"Any ideas about motives?" Sunshine asked. 

"None," came Melinda's quick response. 

"Clues?" followed Deanna. 

"Fiber and hair samples.  Fluids found on the victims from the rapes.  
Even fingerprints that are coming up negative. Only two sets of prints 
so far, but gloves are cheap.  And that leads me to the last detail 
about the murders," Melinda sighed. After taking in another quick survey 
of her team's faces she added, "The rapists are women." 

"Whoa, there's a switch," Sunshine quipped, but was met by a stern look 
from both Melinda and Donna. 

"So that's where we come in," Deanna observed. 

Melinda nodded and continued, "The police really have no leads.  Unless 
the killers make a huge mistake, or we figure out a pattern to the 
victims, there's no reason why they couldn't go on killing like this for 
years.  The police are looking for organized crime explanations, but it 
seemed to me there might be a better angle to take on this 
investigation." 

"Like looking for these lady rapists," Donna said, very matter-of-
factly. 

"Yes," Melinda continued, "It doesn't sound to me like mob hits, not 
enough connection between the victims.  Plus, of course, the Mafia is 
sort of a men's only club." 

"But it does sound like one of our more radical man-hating friends," 
Deanna said solemnly.  "One who would enjoy the irony of men being 
tortured and raped, left helpless to die without anyone caring." 

The mood in the room, which had been pensive, became absolutely sullen 
as each woman made a grotesque mental picture of one of her most violent 
friends smashing every inch of a man's body in a hydraulic press before 
shooting him with her delicately detailed, custom Derringer. 

"Where will we begin?" asked Sunshine, rising to stretch her legs and 
ending a moment of quiet thought that would have built the tension to an 
unbearable level if it hadn't been broken. 

"You, obviously, start a subtle inquiry among the Forum crowd.  Donna, I 
need you to check out your ties to the people who frequent the S&M 
clubs, especially those rich women who go to the Auctioneer.  I'll 
finish getting all the info the police have and then Deanna and I will 
go talk to our usual sources around town. Right now, just find out if 
anyone knows anything about these crimes.  We'll worry about motives, 
and opportunity later.  Now everyone get some sleep," Melinda concluded, 
rising and saying good-bye to Donna, then leading the others back to the 
van and dropping them off at their homes.  

Secretly, Melinda wished she would be able to live with herself if she 
simply retired now, and let the whole mess clean itself up. 


 *************** 


Melinda was relieved to find her apartment empty when she got there.  
Her boyfriend, Mack, would soon be home from work, but she was happy to 
have a minute to herself.  She sat down on the couch, and taking the 
remote in her hand, thought about flipping on the television.  She 
thought better of it, though, and flung the control back down to its 
resting place on the coffee table.  She slumped over on her side, and 
resisted the urge to think about the new 'case'.  Luckily, her 
mind cooperated and went completely blank from exhaustion. 

She woke with a start to hear the front door opening, then softly 
closing.  She had forgotten to use the chain.  A tense moment later, 
Mack's kind face appeared around the corner from the hallway.  He was 
smiling, as usual, and came over to the couch with a bag from the 
Chinese restaurant on Sawyer Street. Melinda lifted herself only long 
enough for Mack to sit down on one of the end sections of the couch, 
before she plopped face down into his lap.  He began massaging her 
strong, tight shoulders until she sighed. 

"How is everything?" Mack asked the back of Melinda's head. 

"Great.  We caught the killers, and administered a fair punishment to 
them," came the muffled answer from a purring Melinda. 

"Alright!" Mack said.  "Then I won't need this anymore."  He produced 
his gun from his side sling and tossed it onto the table at his feet.  
He then removed his badge from his chest pocket, and sent it soaring 
through the air to the dining room table.  It skidded across the slick 
lacquered surface, before just barely falling off the other side. 

Melinda got up finally, and took off her shoes, sliding them under the 
desk beside the television.  Mack got up and removed his gun sling, and 
his shoes as well.  Melinda put her arms around his neck, then let her 
legs go limp beneath her.  Mack, feigning a groan of pain adjusted 
himself under the weight, then dragged her back to the bedroom and 
stopped in front of the bed.  He meant for her to depart the subway, but 
she continued to clutch him to her.  She straightened up slightly and 
whispered in his ear, "I love you very much."  Mack touched her hands 
and replied with his own profession of love to her.  Melinda then moved 
away from his ear just a bit and said, "Do I smell pork?" 

Mack motioned her closer and responded.  "It's just your thighs." 

"Oh, now you're in for it," Melinda yelled, pulling Mack onto the bed 
and wrapping her huge stone pillars of legs around his midsection.  Mack 
tried to use their momentum to flip both of them completely off the bed, 
but Melinda's powerful upper body kept them in place, right in the 
middle of the bed. Mack thrashed around in her increasingly tight grip 
until he had gotten his head near hers, and had managed to turn to face 
her. 

Melinda grabbed both sides of his head in her hands, and looked into 
Mack's flashing eyes.  "Ready to die little man?" she taunted, smiling. 

Mack responded by leaning forward and kissing Melinda with a passionate 
fervor, and she responded, holding him close to her. Mack's hands felt 
their way under her shirt, along the hard flat surface of her stomach.  
Melinda used her legs to pull Mack even more tightly against her, 
kissing Mack with even more passion, and holding his upper body in her 
warm, muscular grip.  The emotion she was feeling got the better of her, 
and she broke from their loving kiss, holding him to her, and wishing 
he'd never be anywhere but in her safe embrace.  Mack stopped moving, 
and just cuddled up in her arms, feeling her passion, and sharing it.  
He craned his neck to get his face near hers, and whispered, "My love 
for you will never die, Melinda." 

Melinda responded by renewing their kiss, redoubling her excitement in 
her lover's affection.  Mack began to work her shirt up over her wide 
shoulders and their kiss was broken for just a moment as her garments 
passed between them.  Mack pulled away after a time to take off his own 
clothes, and Melinda finished by removing her pants and tossing them 
onto Mack's back as he bent over, tripping with excitement out of his 
boxers. 

Mack made a move onto the bed, but Melinda moved over, out of his reach, 
and stopped his hand when he reached for her.  She shook her head to 
tell him to wait, and Mack propped himself on one arm to watch the show.  
Melinda smiled as she ran her hands along the defined muscles of her 
midsection, hypnotizing Mack with her seductive movement.  She let her 
fingers travel along the ridges of her abdominal muscles, which she 
flexed under their contact.  With a slight whimper, she tightened the 
abdominals and relaxed them into a concave basin under her ribs.  
Slowly, with a maddening rhythm, she sent waves of muscles flowing from 
her chest into her hips, with the skill of a belly dancer. 

Mack laid over on his back, and took a deep breath.  Melinda sensed his 
anguish, and so, very slowly, she moved over and got on top of him.  All 
the while, she maintained the flow of her sexy abdominal ocean.  The 
feeling of her body moving against him so seductively gave Mack almost 
enough pleasure to explode, but Melinda, carefully and quickly, took him 
inside of her.  She immediately took control, squeezing her strong pussy 
muscles around him, preventing him from losing himself as soon as her 
softness surrounded him.  Melinda sat up slightly, back on her haunches, 
and waited for Mack to make eye contact with her.  Mack looked up at his 
beautiful amazon, with eyes full of love and passion, caring and lust. 

Melinda looked back at him, feeling empathy in his lust, and closeness 
in his love.  As her abdominals rippled with glorious strength, sending 
wave after wave of soft pressure into him, she began to clench her 
insides, drawing his manhood deeper and deeper into her.  Her entire 
lower body flexed and drew together into fabulous muscular hardness, 
while her unreal vaginal control kept Mack in a state of sexual climax, 
without sending him over the edge. She felt her own orgasm well up 
inside of her instantly, while Mack reached his lips to hers in a 
breathless kiss.  Melinda felt her insides grip and spasm, as Mack came 
along with her, and the two finished their lovemaking.  Mack pulled the 
blankets up over them both, and held Melinda against him as they fell 
off into sleep. 

Melinda dreamed about Mack that night. 



  'The Price of Manhood'- Chapter 4 



A fearfully powerful looking leg appeared from under the long black cape 
that hid the rest of the figure's body.  The room went wild with the 
sound of women cheering, and the loud trumpet fanfare came to a climax 
with the accent of cymbal crashes.  The leg rotated to all angles so 
that the entire audience could admire its marble splendor.  The leg then 
shook back and forth, the heavy quadriceps heaving from side to side 
before locking in to an even more intimidatingly powerful teardrop 
flanked by wide slabs of muscle.  The flexing leg brought even more 
noise from the crowd until it disappeared behind the robe from which it 
had come. 

The shrouded figure moved forward on the stage, then stopped and swayed 
uneasily for a moment before producing a thickly muscled arm. The full 
bicep lay dormant for just a moment, waiting for the urgings of the 
audience to urge it into action.  The murmur became a frenzy of applause 
as the bicep flexed into a giant, round knot sitting proudly atop the 
iron arm.  The bicep then made way as the arm fell down at the figure's 
side; it stiffened to allow the corded tricep to become a deep horseshoe 
on the backside of the arm.  The cloaked form paraded proudly back and 
forth so that the audience around the stage could all marvel at the size 
of the overmuscled appendage that it cared to display for them. 

Soon, though, the arm also made a retreat leaving the dark, draped 
figure bowing before the assemblage.  A chant rose from the darkness of 
the seating before the stage, "Auc-tion, Auc-tion!"  Over and over came 
the cheer, which prompted the shrouded figure to cross its arms over its 
chest for a dramatic moment. 

The arms then pulled away, easily tearing the long robe in two, and 
leaving the awesome spectacle of a gigantically muscular woman in its 
place.  The crowd became absolutely deafening, as the entirely female 
group rose to their feet, clapping and cheering for the smiling mountain 
of powerful woman standing on stage.  The amazon was naked except for a 
black G-string with a while stripe that ran down its middle and between 
the enormous thighs that held the tiny bikini bottom safely between 
them.  After soaking up the furious approval for a minute, the giantess 
brought her giant leg forward again, locking the muscles into their 
unreal flex, and then powered her upper body into a most muscular pose.  
Donna gasped quietly as the woman's neck disappeared into a wall of 
traps and wide craggy shoulders, with an unbelievable display of arm and 
chest muscles taking place beneath. She shrugged a couple of times, 
emphasizing the wide lats flaring behind the scene, before pushing the 
arms upward to thrill the crowd with an inhuman double bicep pose. 

The woman straightened up, relaxing her bursting muscularity as much as 
it would bear to relax.  She stood proudly, almost smugly, before the 
teeming crowd, looking into the envious eyes of every woman in 
attendance.  Her gaze pierced the desire of every one of her female 
fans; she knew very well what they wanted her to do now.  And every one 
of them wished they could do it themselves. 

A booming and deep female voice filled the room over the public address 
system.  The voice matched the power of the persona on stage, although 
she was not the voice's owner.  It's deep tones resonated and added to 
the brimming excitement in every member of the audience.  "Tonight's 
feature...", paused the voice, amid a growing hush in the room. The 
colossal figure on the stage looked even more intently around the room, 
and slowly, carefully began to raise her left arm, gathering the thick 
muscle together for another awesome display.  Voices cried out now, 
some in support and some in protest, causing the powerful arm to halt 
its ascent.  The head shook back and forth, as the broad arm was lowered 
and shaken out, displaying the heaviness and sheer size of the muscle it 
carried. 

The spectacular amazon then ran a finger along her deeply cut abs. 
Again, with more voices added to the chorus, songs both of protest and 
praise began to weave through the room as the tensed abdominals were 
etched over by the strong finger, displaying them like a game show 
model. The master show-woman sent waves of ripples down from her bulky 
chest to her smooth pelvis, displaying control over those most sensuous 
of muscles, the like of which most of the gallery had only dreamed.  
Soon this enticement passed as well, however, and the crowd grew anxious 
that its prize would not come. 

The giantess winked once and turned her back on the crowd, standing 
still, and letting each of them drink in the muscular sight before them. 
She flexed her glutes against one another, crushing them together in a 
frenzy of power.  Her small G-string slid up even higher on her 
graphically power-packed ass, while even more material disappeared 
between the rocks of muscular lower body.  She placed her hands 
sensually atop her tight rear end, and let them travel along the small 
of the back, until they met the tops of her hips.  The broadest back in 
the imaginations of the assembled fanatics was only a weak sliver 
compared to the wall of female muscle that spread out before them.  From 
its resting point, a huge and dominating stockpile of muscle, the unreal 
back began to grow, outward 
and by degrees.  At each step, it seemed that it could widen no more; to 
do so would have been unthinkable, inhuman.  But expand for what seemed 
like forever it did, becoming the ultimate display of strength and 
might, and still it topped its own magnificence.  The mistress' back had 
taken at least five steps outward, gaining incredible girth at each 
point.  When the undefeatable amazon had finally spread her most 
fabulous muscle to its fullest, it was as if she had eclipsed the whole 
stage, and even the room itself.  The muscle on display should have 
belonged to at least three people, but here, one woman, alone and beyond 
marvel, had broken the limits of human muscularity.  And she was about 
to use it. 

The chants of the crowd were fevered and shrill, and all about the 
stage, women on their feet were nearing insanity in expectation of this 
climactic moment.  The monstrous voice again made the air dense with its 
volume and resonance as it spoke but one line; "Martin, the wife-
beater." 

The inner part of the stage opened on a blinking man, who was crouched 
down and facing away from the crowd.  The lights of the riggings above 
had blinded him, so he shielded his eyes against their harshness. Hisses 
and hatred flung up on him from the crowd, but were soon replaced by 
cheerful and disorganized yelling as the mighty pillar of womanhood 
strode over to the man, and began to go to work. 

The woman motioned for Martin to come out onto the stage proper, in full 
view of the audience in the round.  At this point, Martin was quite 
confused as to what was happening, and he refused this first order, less 
out of disobedience and more from misunderstanding.  However, his 
hesitation was intolerable, and the woman grabbed him by the loose gown 
that had been draped over him backstage.  She raised him up by placing 
her hands on both sides of his head and lifting, making him reach up and 
grab her wrists, trying to find a release.  She carried him without any 
regard to his swinging legs or vainly prying hands, to the center of the 
stage, and set him down on his feet again, facing her.  Now the crowd 
became hushed, and any light in the room other than those on the stage 
were extinguished.  With Martin standing with his back to them, and in 
front of the great muscular mistress, the audience prepared itself for 
the show. 

The woman stood before the trembling man, flexing heavy muscles in 
various and random parts of her body, to menacing effect.  She worked 
the muscles not in poses, but isometric flexes against one another, 
demonstrating their sheer outlandish bulk by their contrast with her 
tiny partner.  She moved her self squeezes into her pecs, flexing the 
muscles there, and making her whole upper torso shake while bouncing 
each side of her chest alternately up and down.  Sandbags seemed to 
occupy the space across her broad front, heavily lifting and dropping.  
Her breasts slid over the irresistible motion, making the display 
ferociously seductive and ominously intimidating.  One hand found its 
way under the top cord of her 

G-string, and pulled it up into her crotch, rubbing it over her clit 
which lay deep in a canyon of man-crushing legs.  She was making her 
intentions very clear to everyone in the room.  She intended to hurt 
Martin. 

She took a step forward, and took Martin in one wrecking arm, lifting 
him onto her hip.  She pulled the gown draped over him off by ripping it 
down the front, and making his neck bow forward from the stress.  She 
then turned to all sides with her prey, displaying his naked form, and 
flexing the holding arm to work a terrible grinding force against his 
side.  Her squeeze was so casual, it was hard to believe the pronounced 
effect it was having on Martin, as he winced and struggled against the 
pain.  Having made the impression she desired, she again placed Martin 
on his feet in front of her, but this time facing at ninety degrees to 
her body, his side at her front.  She ran a broad hand through his 
shaking shock of brown hair, letting her hand slide down his slim back, 
in an almost admiring way. 

Her eyes burned with fire in a moment's turn, and raising her steel beam 
arms up for a quick and mighty display, she powered her open hands 
against his lower back and stomach, at exactly opposite points on his 
front and back, making his waist momentarily collapse with the impulse, 
and a shock wave ride through his body that took the breath from his 
lungs and the strength from his legs.  She held her hands at their 
stopping point, however, for just about three seconds, keeping his body 
up, before contemptuously letting him drop to a sobbing heap at her 
feet. 

Leaving him but an instant's rest, she grabbed both his powerless wrists 
in one hand and both his ankles in the other, picking him up like a limp 
sack, hanging by its ends.  Flipping him up over her head like a human 
scarf, she, with some difficulty, worked him down across the small of 
her rocky back.  Murmurs in the gallery made a broad, cruel smile 
develop on the mighty amazon's face, and she slowly turned around, 
showing off the helpless shawl draped tightly across the narrowest part 
of a back that had no narrow part.  Held in place by his feet and ankles 
in grips of iron which simply would not give, Martin was dazily aware of 
the rack he was now stretched across.  He was more aware of his 
helplessness in this position, however.  Even if his limbs weren't being 
held by the constrictions of forearms so wide they wouldn't fit inside 
the legs of his pants, the body that was preparing to torture him had an 
immunity of muscle he could never hope to penetrate. 

For a brief amusement, the arms of layered muscle thrust forward with a 
killing force, pulling apart the resistance they held like a party 
popper.  She relaxed her shoulders a bit to back off the stretch she 
applied, without effort, to the tearing limbs she held, then shrugged 
casually forward and upward, with the bunched muscle of her lower back 
holding her victim in place.  By repeating this movement in slow, 
rhythmic repetitions, she found she could elicit the most pleasurable 
sounds of suffering from her small, sadly outclassed mate.  She soon 
grew tired of his blubbering, though, and felt it was time to unleash 
her back on this weak, pathetic man. 


She coiled her back together even further, constricting the muscle into 
the smallest area possible, and sliding the unwilling cape higher up to 
the broadest part of her back, just below her shoulders.  She found that 
for him to fit across her here, she needed to stretch him a little, 
because even though she had compacted the width of her lats, the muscle 
had bulged underneath him, pushing him out a fair distance from the 
level of her spine.  Again came the whining from the small prisoner, 
which pierced her ears, and forced her to silence him.  She pulled him 
as tight across her back as she could, and savoring the feelings of 
inflicting so much pain with her monstrously strong back, spread her 
lats out, pulling the man's body apart with the movement.  It felt so 
good to be so close to the writhings and using such a big, powerful 
bodypart to cause them, that she actually began to look forward to the 
climax of the show.  Her eagerness made her widen her lats another five 
inches, to the point that the plane of her back began to round into an 
arc of giant muscle. 

The crowd became so astounded by the display, that sounds in the room, 
save the painful crying of Martin, and the snapping of his tendons, were 
absolutely banished.  Panties moistened all around as the torturous back 
increased again in girth, bowing the man's back fearsomely against the 
giantess'.  She, the ultimate female, felt her invincible power flow 
through her as she brought another level of pain into Martin's stressed 
consciousness, making the muscle dented back expand into his frail form. 
The deep dimples where muscle layered above her shoulders filled in as 
the flex of her body now snapped the fragile connecting material inside 
Martin's shoulders.  The crushing hands let go, leaving deep bruises on 
the pale skin where long fingers had ground into much weaker tissue, and 
Martin's flaccid body dropped off the still flexing and expanding wall 
above it. 

When she came to her senses, she moved with a possession about her 
business.  She wanted gratification, and it had to come at Martin's 
expense.  She rolled him onto his back, and mounted him, covering his 
entire body with her heavy frame.  She reached down and stuffed his limp 
penis into her generously wet, long slit, not being particularly careful 
about what went in.  Her big hand pushed his penis, along with his 
testicles, inside her, and once they were secured by her crushing 
vaginal wall, put her massive arms around his head and began her 
horrible series of pussy flexes, crushing his genitals within the warm, 
moist and furiously strong vagina.  Her power was mangling him beyond 
simple, to permanent and compound damage, and the thought made her 
constrict the deep inner muscles even harder around the soft member she 
had taken in.  Her orgasm sent her out of control, and in spite of the 
additional pressure she had to apply in her intensely lubed pussy, she 
held him still with a colossal force on his softest part, and used the 
grip to lift his hips off the ground as she thrust violently up and down 
with her tireless lower body.  She shuddered to the envy of the present 
company through an orgasm that marked the end of Martin's days of sexual 
pleasure, and constricted her entire body around his, to the deafening 
applause of the packed house. 


******************* 

The husky voice made the well pumped, and awesomely muscled body turn 
quickly, almost nervously.  It seemed out of character for anyone that 
obviously powerful to be startled by anything, but then again, the 
confidence and strength of the woman's voice could be quite disarming. 
"You still put on quite a show," came the voice, as strong as a harsh 
wind, and every bit as hard to ignore. 

"Donna!"  The muscular frame relaxed in one hesitant moment, and the 
word shared it's airtime with a relieved breath.  "Hey, long time no 
see," followed, the tension declining in the amazon as she spoke. 

Donna closed the door to the dressing room behind her, and sat down on a 
low dresser along the wall.  "Expecting someone?" she queried the 
magnificent back now turned to her, as the huge musclegirl finished 
toweling the sweat off her broad back, and reached for a green robe that 
a soldier might have mistaken for his tent. 

"Not really," Morra said, taking a seat in front of Donna, and pulling 
her hair back off her shoulders.  "So how have you been?" 

"Very well," Donna said, matching her friend's exuberance.  "Mom is 
doing a lot better since the move.  She left a little over a month ago 
now." 

"Ready to come back to work?" interjected Morra, getting a down-to-
brass-tacks look on her face and leaning forward. 

"No such luck, my dear," Donna laughed.  "Business is good thank-you 
very much." 

"Well," the dejected giantess sighed, picking an imaginary piece of dirt 
from her thick bicep.  "How's the gang, anyway." 

"That's actually what I'm here about."  Donna removed a small black 
notebook from the pocket of her black leather jacket.  "Have you heard 
about the murders that have taken place recently." 

"You guys still trying to save the world.  You all should just join me 
here, making obscene amounts of money, and punishing all the dirty 
little schmoes we can sucker into five-hundred dollars."  Morra had 
propped her feet up on a pile of clothes in front of her, and taken a 
big bottle of water from her vanity, from which she occasionally took a 
sip. 

Unfazed, however, Donna continued, "I was wondering if you had any 
reason to think maybe someone you know, a patron here, might decide to 
go on a killing spree.  Anyone say anything to you, perhaps, bragging 
about overpowering men lately." 

"Now you know perfectly well that that's every woman in that audience 
out there, except for the newbies, and they'll be saying it a month from 
now." 

"Any new people coming around recently.  Anyone especially conspicuous?  
Anyone especially, big?" Donna punctuated the last word. 

"Donna," Morra said, leaning forward, "what are you fishing for.  Do you 
want to know if I killed those men?"  Morra had lowered her voice, and 
her demeanor darkened, as the expression fell away from her chiseled 
face. Donna met her unwavering gaze, not knowing what to expect from 
this monstrous woman, but knowing she was capable of anything. 

"Hell no,"  Morra said, almost giggling, and taking a long draw of 
water, as Donna let her head drop, the suspense having made her tense 
her body like a coiled snake.  "Men die every day from gunshot wounds.  
And it probably serves most of them right." 

Donna got up, raising a hand and smiling, hearing her friend quickly 
scrambling on top of her favorite soapbox.  "I'll see you later,"  Donna 
said over top of a flurry of anti-male chatter that she had heard so 
many times before. 

"Oh, Donna," Morra said, making Donna turn skeptically at the door. 
"There is one thing.  I happened to see a couple of new girls the other 
night in the crowd.  Most massive creatures I'd ever seen.  Reminded me 
of Deanna.  I wouldn't mention it, except they ended up hitting on this 
guy who comes here sometimes on Men's Night." 

"Is that it?" Donna asked, feeling in her pocket for her notebook again. 

"No," Morra said, finishing the dressing process that Donna had 
interrupted minutes ago.  With less expression than before she added, 
"That guy was one of the victims in the paper this week." 


******************* 


The dark man drew his eye back from the eyepiece for just a second, 
fishing with his right hand in a bag at his feet, but never taking his 
gaze off the big picture window on the sixth floor of the building 
across the street.  She had just turned off the lights, and he would 
need to get his night vision equipment out to continue his surveillance, 
now getting weeks old.  He was tired of this work.  Normally, he would 
have gotten down to business much more quickly.  However, he was still 
uncertain he had found who he was looking for, and he had learned long 
ago, it pays to be sure. 

After setting up his second set of observation equipment, he peered back 
across the way, into apartment 6014.  He knew what to expect, but for a 
moment, he couldn't catch a glimpse of anything.  Then, from the right 
side of his field of view, appeared the powerful upper body of his 
quarry. She was, as far as he could tell, naked.  That fit the routine.  
She seemed to be happy and oblivious.  Business as usual.  She was 
alone.  That was something new. 

She sauntered over to the picture window, and looked absently downward, 
not at anything in particular it seemed.  She also began to run her 
hands down her granite sides, grazing her breasts and lightly strafing 
her vagina in passing.  It struck the man, as it had so many times 
before, that this particular subject was unnaturally driven by sexual 
urges. That would have not been outside the profile he expected, but 
didn't quite seem exactly right, either.  The woman's gyrations were 
increasing, as she rubbed her pussy now with more purpose, and she began 
to flex her arms and legs, admiring the thick, heavy muscles as he had 
seen her do so many times. She was becoming totally lost to her self, 
pleasuring herself, standing in front of her window.  What an 
uncomfortable position in which to masturbate, he thought.  Why did she 
come here to do it?  Where is her companion, whom he had never seen her 
without?  The man looked away from the eyepiece and frowned, disgusted 
with himself for his carelessness. 

The door to the room the man had rented burst open, hinges, frame and 
jam splintering from an incredible blow.  The man turned from his seated 
position on the opposite side of the room to see the broad, bare 
shoulders of the second subject muscle their way in after the ruined 
door.  He met her eyes for an instant.  She broke into a broad smile, 
seeing the man seated before the window, telescope before him.  He met 
her gaze with his usual null expression, before reaching quickly into 
his full length leather coat to produce a long combat knife. 

"Well,"  said the tall, hulking woman, placing her hands accusingly on 
her hips, "I guess you know who we are.  I think you should know," she 
said glancing at the knife, "you'll have to do better than that." 

The man lashed the knife down, severing a cord wrapped in duct tape that 
ran beside him on the floor.  The lights in the hallway went out, as the 
entire building went black.  From out in the hallway, the sound of doors 
opening, and people complaining could be discerned.  Kerri lunged 
forward, toward the light of the window.  It only took her a moment to 
reach the other side of the room, and she fully expected to feel the 
man's body once she got there, but she did not.  She swung her fist in a 
full circle, hoping to find the man that way, but she only hit air.  At 
the end of her arc, she stepped back, knocking over the telescope.  In 
frustration, she kicked at the equipment, and yelled into the blackness, 
"We're going to get you, little man!" 

"We shall see," thought the man as he passed under the emergency lights 
at the end of the hallway, and calmly descended the stairs. 













  'The Price of Manhood'- Chapter 5 




Deanna pressed play.  This tape was one of her favorites.  She had met 
Nick at The Auction House; Morra had introduced them.  Nick was a funny 
character, egotistical in a self deprecating sort of way.  That, she 
thought, was what made him so fun. 

The tape wasn't at the beginning, so the scene opened with Deanna on a 
chair, her back to the camera.  The indentation just below the nape of 
her neck, created by the flaring muscle underneath was slowly 
disappearing, bricks of human rock, shifting and rolling in rhythm like 
a calm, muscular ocean, rounding off in a smooth slope of taut muscle.  
Deanna remembered this part well, because she was taking her time here.  
Hidden from the camera view, Nick had been clenched between her 
compressing arms. His entire body was eclipsed 
from the view of the camera by the affectionate crushes of the mass 
closed in on all sides of his slight, pale frame.  When her shoulders 
rocked forward, and her abs pulled and hardened, Nick was being crushed 
by her massive torso.  She was 
simply leaning forward into him, and holding him tightly against her 
chest, smashing his upper body down into itself.  At this point, she was 
too far into the tape to hear his hoarse voice whining about how he 
thought this night was going to be something else. But her taunts were 
still clear enough. 

"Come on Nikky, just use your strong male body and stop me,"  panted 
Deanna.  "All I'm doing is powering your chest into your little penis.  
It ought to be easy for you to make me stop." 

Remembering how helpless he had been brought all the excitement back.  
That was why she began filming her encounters in the first place.  
Deanna leaned back on the couch and felt inside her jeans shorts for her 
excited crotch.  She rubbed herself slowly, watching the tape intently. 

She watched her image lean over, and using her right hand to grab Nick's 
face roughly, kiss the breath away from him.  The force she used to hold 
his face would have been painful enough, but combined with Deanna's 
strong neck bending his backward, and her full lips drawing his living 
breath out of him, Deanna's dominant kiss was a formidable form of 
torture.  Deanna moved her hand to her panties, and yanked them into her 
vagina, raking the material through her slit.  The image opened its arms 
wide, and looked first to the left, flexing its left bicep and admiring 
it, then to the right, doing the same.  The bicep poses satisfied the TV 
Deanna, and she stood up from the chair, pushing it away from her behind 
to give the camera a better view. Nick was sticking out of her crossed 
legs, looking deliciously puny within their magnificent girth.  The 
image of Deanna smiled wickedly out from the TV, then crushed her legs 
together, eliciting a yelp from the unseen face behind the broad 
muscles.  The image relaxed momentarily, and began to breath very deeply 
and calmly.  Soon, however, with each breath the massive legs slowly 
grew hard and tight around the little man trapped within them, making 
him gurgle and spasm. Each passing second caused the frightening muscle 
of her legs to bulge and sharpen, while Deanna carelessly exercised her 
insane power, and Nick's body was forced to yield ever more to her 
unstoppable strength. 

Deanna pulled her panties aside, and rubbed her clit with one finger, 
watching the eyes of her virtual self, and listening quietly for the 
sounds of her power.  Her image got up on her tiptoes, making her huge, 
hard calves bunch together and tighten around Nick from below, and 
rotated around so that her whole body, as well as Nick's from the 
armpits up, now faced the camera. She reached down, and grabbed Nick's 
receding hair, so that his face was looking directly out of the screen 
at the now masturbating, and lonely Deanna.  Deanna rubbed more quickly 
and braced, anticipating what she knew was next to come. 

Her image bent down, keeping Nick trapped between her knees, so that she 
was nearly sitting, butt on his back.  Still holding his head, she said 
in a nice, clear voice, "Say hi to the people at home!"  Nick screamed 
as Deanna quickly rose up, driving her knees into his endangered sides, 
and releasing his hair to place her hands behind her neck.  She kept on 
squeezing too, and Nick's scream trailed off to a whisper as he was 
unable to renew his air supply.  The real-time Deanna pushed her fingers 
in between her lips, with almost enough force to be uncomfortable, 
trying to relive the intense feeling of letting her might loose on the 
little man who had foolishly let himself get caught in between her legs. 

Deanna closed her eyes and concentrated on rubbing herself, pulling her 
jeans down to the tops of her wide calves.  She enjoyed stretching the 
fabric with her legs, even though it would likely be the demise of yet 
another pair of shorts.  She left her panties in the way however, their 
annoying habit of slipping back into place actually helping to intensify 
the fury she needed to reach an orgasm. 

When she opened her eyes, her recorded self had picked Nick up in the 
air, and was holding him by the outsides of his thighs, so that from his 
shoulders up was out of the camera frame.  She pulled his legs open and 
rocked him forward, snapping his legs back together as his penis swung 
back between them.  She then pushed his legs together with a little more 
force, setting his upper body into ferocious gyrations of pain. There 
were more taunts.  "I call this hold the nutcracker, Nick.  I guess you 
know why, huh?" Nick groaned as Deanna sent another blast of force into 
his legs, and what was trapped between them.  "But we don't want to do 
that, now do we?" she said, setting him down on the ground.  Little 
Deanna turned Nick toward her, as he sobbed a bit, and put her hands on 
his shoulders, pinching the nerves at the base of his neck.  Nick 
grabbed her wide wrists with his hands, and tried to let his legs drop 
out from under him, but she held him upright. 

"Now at the bar, you said you thought you could satisfy me, isn't that 
right," Deanna asked Nick, who really didn't respond with much more than 
a whine or two.  "Let's hope, for your sake, you're right."  Deanna then 
gathered Nick up and tossed him offscreen some distance away.  She then 
eclipsed the picture for a second as she adjusted the camera angle.  
When she moved back away from the camera, it was now pointed toward the 
bed, which was occupied by a cowering Nick.  Deanna's little image went 
right to work on him. 

Deanna leapt onto Nick, growling and quickly collecting his entire body 
underneath hers.  The real Deanna was alternately rubbing and 
penetrating with her long fingers, knowing that this was going to be 
exactly what the doctor ordered.  The image on the TV was awesome, the 
huge muscular body stuffing the small, weak, male body inside her 
flexing grasp.  It even excited her to see herself fumbling for his 
penis, then quickly jerking it until it was hard enough for her to use.  
She locked his legs out in a grapevine, twisting her legs around his, 
and bending them at her will.  She used the hold to give her leverage 
against his genitals, and she began to pound into him unmercifully. Her 
grip on his upper body, which started out as some kind of reverse full 
nelson, became a crushing bearhug, which gave her complete control over 
him. Her driving hips caused the bed to bounce, her weight wrecking into 
Nick over and over.  Deanna, sitting on her couch, could almost feel his 
small torso locked in her arms, and her fingers were every bit as 
satisfying as his rather inadequate cock.  But it was his inability to 
stop her that she really relished, and even on video tape, it was every 
bit as thrilling. 

At this point, Nick had gone rather limp, and even with her body twined 
around his, it was getting hard to use her human dildo.  So, she rolled 
over, letting his head rest on her hard chest, and she grabbed two 
handfuls of his butt.  In her hydraulic grasp those handles were 
sufficient, and she began to pound him in and out of her, with her legs 
scissored around his calves. Deanna was beginning to reach her climax, 
both on tape, and in her living room. Her hand was moving at a blinding 
rate over her clitoris, and her gaze was fixed on the display of 
dominance that she was replaying.  She managed to time herself again so 
that she came with her image on TV, which locked its legs up around his 
waist, and drove its feet high in the air, taking away Nick's last gasp 
of air, and his two lowest ribs.  She quickly hit the stop button, 
giving her screen over to CNN, as she finished playing with her wetness, 
not wanting to see the images of herself having to deal with the 
distorted body of her partner. 


******************* 


"Donna is bringing him," Melinda said, in low enough tones that both 
Deanna and Sunshine had to lean in closer to hear what she had said.  
"But, he already knows the plan, and he's agreed to it, so..." she 
trailed off with a slight shrug of her strong shoulders. 

"You don't like the idea?" Sunshine asked, leaning even further across 
the wet table toward Melinda. 

"I just wonder if we can give him the backup he might very well need," 
Melinda said, leaning back and taking another sip of her drink. 

"Well, you know the police..." began Sunshine. 

"No," interrupted Deanna, "this is ours.  This is how we give back."  
Deanna picked up her glass and looked into it, swirling the clear liquid 
it held.  "This is how we sleep at night."  Melinda looked up quickly, 
but said nothing. 

The three sat quietly for awhile, slowly working on the drinks they had 
ordered, watching the women around them circling the few men in the room 
like sharks who didn't quite know if they were pursuing something 
edible.  Presently, Donna arrived with a balding man, in his thirties, 
who walked with a slight limp. Each pulled a chair from an adjacent 
table and sat down with the others. 

"Girls," said Donna, by way of an introduction, "meet Gary.  Gary, this 
is Melinda, Sunshine and Deanna," she said, pointing around the table.  
Gary looked at each of them, pausing for an uncomfortable moment on 
Deanna. 

"It's a pleasure," Gary flourished, with an all-inclusive gesture. 

Melinda took a breath, and cocked her head, waiting to see if the 
salutations were finished before speaking.  "Gary, you do realize the 
danger," she said, taking his hand to make sure he was paying close 
attention.  "This is not a game." 

"I understand, darling," Gary replied with a little knock on Melinda's 
arm, his salesman charm in high gear. 

"The plan is, Gary runs the circuit looking for these giant women Morra 
mentioned, and we hide in the bushes, basically.  He endears himself to 
them, and we follow all of them wherever.  If he gets in any trouble, we 
get him out of it. If not, maybe we can get a fluid sample," Donna said, 
finishing the detailing of her simple plan.  "The worst that can happen 
is we invade someone's privacy." 

"No," Melinda retorted, "the worst that can happen is Gary gets killed." 

"Hey," Gary said, flashing a toothy smile, "if I can take Donna's 
squeeze, I can take anything." 

"Don't be so sure," Deanna said, putting her immense arm over Donna's 
shoulder, making the wildly muscular Donna look like a little girl. 



******************* 


"Oh, God you're strong", Lori said, feeling under Matt's silk shirt.  "I 
want you to take me!" she spat. 

Matt leaned forward to kiss the girl's pretty face.  He wanted to pull 
her into his arms, and let her feel six years of labor at the gym.  That 
was Matt's best move- make them feel all safe and cozy.  But he couldn't 
budge out of this one's grip, not even enough to free his arms for the 
kiss.  He knew he was pretty drunk, and she was pretty tall, but he must 
have gotten a five-hundred pounder for him to have to struggle like this 
with her.  But, as usual, he decided that come last call, fat or thin, 
they're all good enough for what he needed. 

"Let me get this nasty old shirt off," Matt said, trying his best to get 
her excited enough with his body that he could skip the foreplay.  He 
wasn't in the mood for that kind of screwing around, and anyway, they 
were partners, not lovers. 

"Here let me," the panting Lori replied, pushing his hands away from his 
buttons.  Matt tried to narrow his eyes seductively, but the alcohol had 
already made his eyelids into lead weights, so that all he succeeded in 
doing was closing them.  He felt her warm hands travel up his sides, to 
just below his armpits.  She caressed him there for just a moment, as 
Matt opened his eyes back up to give her the patented gaze.  His smile 
eroded as he felt his shirt rip off his back, and he looked out to his 
sides to see her hands clutching two rags made of designer silk fabric.  
She giggled as he pulled the tatters out of her hands. 

"What the fuck did you do that for?" Matt yelled, remembering his last 
credit card bill.  Lori giggled as she gripped his wrists tightly, 
suppressing his clumsy struggles to pull his arms away and get up. 

"Maybe you'd feel better if I ripped my shirt," she said tugging at his 
arms to make him face her.  "Watch," she said, looking down at her 
chest, covered in a heavy denim smock.  Matt kept pulling for a second, 
until his attention became focused on the heaving chest in front of him.  
Lori slowly took in a tremendous deep breath which spread her chest out 
in front of Matt like an inflating hot air balloon.  The width of her 
chest exceeded the width of his shoulders already, but her long inhale 
wasn't abating, and her chest simply continued to grow.  Matt began to 
feel the pressure mount around his wrists, as Lori started to work the 
muscles underneath her clothes.  The gold seams of the dress were 
unraveling, and Matt could hear the back of her garment tearing out. 

Lori pulled back on Matt's wrists pressing him hard against her bulky 
chest, which Matt found out quickly was definitely not the padded mound 
he had expected. The white shirt underneath her smock tore, a millimeter 
of fabric away from his ear.  Lori released his hands, and locked her 
thick arms behind his head, driving him into her chest muscles, which 
bunched up hard and thick around him.  Matt pushed against her torso 
with his free hands, making the huge woman curling up around him laugh 
and pull her legs up to trap his straining arms against his sides. The 
blue denim finally tore in the front as Lori fully flexed her grasp on 
Matt's head, compressing his skull with muscle, and making him black 
out. 

As his body relaxed, Lori pulled her arms away from his head, and opened 
her thighs up, only to replace them below his arms, so that his limbs 
rested across her broad quadriceps.  Lori rolled his little body between 
her strong legs, watching his head sway back and forth.  This kept up 
long enough for her to grab his legs from underneath her, one in each 
hand, and lay flat on her back.  Holding his legs along her sides, she 
stiffened her legs out, squeezing Matt with the hard, flat muscle of her 
inner thighs.  In harsh, jerking motions, she began to bend her long 
legs, then, with ankles crossed and locked together, flex her powerful 
lower body in a compacting crush that quickly devastated the enveloped 
body within its clutch. She moved the point of impact all around on 
Matt's ribs, bending and cracking the ones that got in the way.  And 
that was all of them, eventually. 

Lori pulled his legs underneath her, so that most of his body was under 
hers, and began to thrust herself up into the air, to come crushing down 
with her immense weight on him.  She flexed her ass into a hard ball, 
and wriggled around on him, feeling the glorious damage her raw weight 
could inflict.  She locked her clutching legs around his torso once 
again, and pounded her ass against his abdomen with hip thrusts that he 
wasn't likely to survive. 

Sitting up, she looked at the broken form swallowed in her legs, making 
her-self more excited than she had been.  She pulled his head forward 
into her crotch, and rubbed his face against the short skirt of material 
that covered it.  But the excitement of her strength got the better of 
her, and she instead pushed his head even further down, below her 
panties, into the vice of her squeezing legs.  She then poured on the 
power, swelling her punishing legs against his head and torso, 

and yanking on his arms, which dangled out, above the vicious pressure.  
She let the muscle take over, pushing way beyond the point of danger to Matt, 
and letting her strength have its way with his puny body.  The bones in 
her grip were never designed for punishment like this, and his damaged 
ribs collapsed moments before his head smashed in the bionic crush. 

Lori rolled off the ruined form, and played with herself for a little 
while, before feeling the need to clean up.  She went into the bathroom 
off the bedroom, and got into the shower, pulling the bloody shreds of 
clothing off her and throwing them toward her bag by the toilet. 


She was already finished cleaning herself up before she began to hear 
cries of pain from the other room.  Smiling, she exited her most recent 
boyfriend's bedroom, gathering clothing tatters and empty liquor bottles 
as she went, stuffing them carelessly into her gym bag.  Down the short 
hallway, she quietly opened the door to the other bedroom, and peered 
inside. 

Kerri had taken her usual patient time with her hook-up, and so, to 
Lori's eternal envy, was still enjoying his body.  Scott was smaller 
than Matt, so Kerri had prudently selected him over the muscular Matt; 
had she not, Lori would have finished too soon with her mate, and been 
bothering her to share. 

Kerri was standing in the corner of the room, partially behind the 
dresser, which she had apparently moved, since it was away from the 
wall, and the pictures and toiletries on it were knocked over.  She was 
holding Scott up off the ground, his body engulfed in her crossed arms.  
Their clothes lay at their feet in disarray, but not torn.  Kerri must 
have strung the poor bastard along for quite some time, Lori mused. 

"Ahhhhhh...," came the trailing sobs from Scott's no doubt damaged body, 
but only in those intermissions from Kerri's squeezes.  Kerri spent the 
time softly cooing loving overtures to the small man she was holding in 
her crippling power bearhug.  His protests became quieter and less 
coherent, while Kerri kept up her marathon constrictions and torrent of 
affectionate chatter.  When he had almost lost all consciousness, Kerri 
looked down at her crushed doll, and gave him a soft kiss goodnight. 

As it turned out, Kerri had pulled the heavy wooden chest out from the 
wall for a reason.  She bent down, and extended her reach to pick up the 
heavy bureau. It took her a while of adjusting to situate Scott between 
her stony chest and the front of the dresser, but she was presently able 
to maneuver the both of them to her liking.  With a mere moment's 
hesitation, Kerri, with closed eyes and a mammoth show of the power of 
her body, crushed the solid wardrobe in her girderlike arms, destroying 
Scott in a veritable explosion of timber.  She dropped all the broken 
things in her grip, reveling in the might she possessed. 

Kerri opened her eyes to the sound of two hands clapping, and turned 
slowly on Lori, who walked seductively into the room.  The two exchanged 
a deep, strong kiss; Kerri remained perfectly still while Lori ran her 
hands along the big, bare arms of her companion.  Kerri opened her eyes, 
and looked deeply into the eyes of the appreciative Lori.  "Well," Kerri 
breathed, "was it good for you too?" 




  'The Price of Manhood'- Chapter 6 



Pound.  Her pretty jaw did something very unpretty, sliding horribly 
under her porcelain skin.  Her supple legs popped forward, and her whole 
body did a grotesque impression of a marionette that just had its 
strings severed.  'Just another powder puff with a bicep,' thought 
Sunshine, moving forward on her foe, but knowing that was going to be 
unnecessary after a shot like that.  'And there'll be a whole lot more 
of those.' 

The ring staff cleaned the dizzy, spandex-draped woman off the tarp, and 
Sunshine jumped out of the ring to her water bottle, removing her 
mouthpiece and dumping the warm water on her hair.  She shook her head, 
spraying some of the other ringside hopefuls with the mist, and sat down 
by the manager. 

"O.K.," Al said, "she didn't do too good, but maybe the next girl'll get 
luckier."  He perused his clipboard for another name, and settled on 
Amanda. Amanda Crush. 

"Cute name," Sunshine said, slapping her gloves together and addressing 
her next challenge.  Both women climbed into the ring at the nearest 
corner, Amanda separating the ropes with a forceful tug, and Sunshine 
bounding over the top rope. 

"The only thing cute around here is gonna be big my foot in your candy-
little ass," grunted Amanda, flexing her huge hands inside her own 
gloves. 

"And that's cute how, exactly?" Sunshine said, with a little smile. 

"O.K. gals, get it on," Al said from ringside. 

Amanda didn't dance like a fighter, she simply advanced.  Sunshine 
backed up springing lightly on her toes, staying out of the big woman's 
long reach.  Amanda lunged an extra step, extending and landing a blow 
on Sunshine's jaw.  Sunshine continued to dodge around, attempting to 
keep out of the path of Amanda's wrecking-ball fists, all the while 
jabbing uselessly at the head of the bull chasing her. 

Sunshine reversed her motion and hit Amanda with a strong uppercut to 
her heavy body.  Amanda set herself and returned the body blow, then 
followed with her broad shoulder pushing Sunshine back into the corner 
of the ring.  Sunshine covered up on her face and felt the hammering of 
the big girl's fists in her midsection. Sunshine lashed out with her 
left, catching Amanda three consecutive times near the temple, but 
Amanda's assault didn't diminish. 


Sunshine hooked her left leg behind Amanda's right, and hit the big 
woman 

with a sharp left to the jaw, making Amanda trip backwards, and fall 
awkwardly against the ropes of the ring.  Sunshine bounded away, out to 
the center of the ring while Amanda gathered herself back to her feet.  
She was seething with rage as she made another rush toward Sunshine, 
lowering her wide shoulders and cocking her right fist back to deliver a 
widowmaker to the juking girl before her.  This time Sunshine 
intercepted the big fist with her own fist, stopping the piston mere 
inches from her face.  Amanda, however, recovered and again assaulted 
Sunshine's unprotected midsection with blow after blow, while Sunshine 
simply covered her face, recoiling from the viciousness of the attack.  

"O.K.," Sunshine yelled, and she pushed Amanda stumbling back away from 
her.  Amanda wasn't able to regain her balance from Sunshine's 
authoritative shove, and ended up butt first on the mat. 

Sunshine turned to Al, seated at the announcer's table.  "She's pretty 
good. Book her." 

Amanda, now furious, got up and charged at the unsuspecting Sunshine, 
driving her hard into the turnbuckle.  Sunshine turned with a quick 
start.  As Amanda straightened up for the square off, she caught a 
smashing overhand punch to her forehead followed by four crosses that 
stopped her dead in her tracks and made her eyes cross.  Sunshine bent 
down and pushed upwards, crushing her fist into Amanda's genitals, then 
continued upwards, lifting the larger woman fully two feet off the mat.  
Amanda crumpled at Sunshine's feet too devastated to even care for her 
injured privates.  Sunshine sighed and turned back to Al.  "Maybe you'd 
better keep looking."  Sunshine stepped one bare foot onto one of 
Amanda's thick breasts, and kneaded it a moment, before putting all her 
weight down, making the big girl yelp.  Sunshine quickly got up on 
tiptoe, concentrating her weight, and turning Amanda's yelp into a short 
scream.  The scream ended as Sunshine kicked her leg out and came 
crashing down, butt first, onto Amanda's chest, her heavy muscles 
driving what little breath Amanda had been able to catch out of her.  
Sunshine let herself slide off Amanda's burly chest and onto her face.  
Once there, she calmly fixed her sweaty locks before turning to the rest 
of the wide-eyed contestants. 

"Next," she threatened. 


******************* 


Mack reached forward to get more moisturizer from the coffee table, 
giving Melinda a chance to snuggle her broad, bare back against Mack's 
chest.  Mack squeezed another small amount of the white cream into his 
hands, and crossed his arms across Melinda's front, applying cream to 
her left arm with his right hand, and vice versa. 

After getting about halfway finished with her arms, Mack hesitated and 
began instead to squeeze her thick triceps with a strong massaging 
stoke.  He then quickly ran his hands around to her thick, rock-like 
biceps, squeezing a bit harder, but still not finding a soft spot.  
"Wait a minute," he said, moving his hands more quickly and squeezing 
with more urgency. 

"What," responded Melinda, turning and echoing his sudden concern. 

"You have muscles!" he said.  "They're all over your arms, big ones.  
Here, feel," he said, gently taking her hands and moving them along her 
huge arms, gingerly, so as not to shock her too badly. 

"My, god, you're right!" Melinda exclaimed, joining in the game.  "Funny 
I didn't notice them before." 

"Well, you probably picked up a weight by accident the other day," Mack 
said, in a sarcastic reference to Melinda's friend Jill, who had been 
scared of going to the gym for fear of developing into her mountainous 
friend. 

"Gee, do you think they're strong, too?" Melinda asked, now flexing her 
arms underneath Mack's careful caresses.  Her tone was a bit panicked. 

"No.  I mean, you're still a girl.  They're just for show,"  Mack 
assured the wide-eyed woman. 

"Whew.  That's good.  I mean if I was muscular AND strong, why I don't 
know what I'd do.  I guess I'd have to become a lesbian,"  Melinda said, 
thoughtfully. 

"O.K., playtime's over," sighed Mack, releasing his embrace of Melinda, 
and resting back against the couch. 

"Aww, my poor baby,"  Melinda said, turning around and draping her thick 
arms over her wounded lover.  She pulled him forward and puckered up for 
a kiss, but Mack turned his head, with a feigned pout on his lips.  
Melinda dropped her head against his shoulder and began kissing the nape 
of his neck, drawing her legs up onto his lap, and purring softly into 
his chest.  Mack tried to keep up the charade, but he was only human, 
and in the end, he ended up searching for her mouth, which she 
surrendered instantly. 

They sat sighing in each other's arms for blissful moments, before 
Melinda, taking the initiative, stood up, scooping Mack up in her arms, 
and playfully tossed him up and down.  Mack was more intent on his 
lover, though, and pulling on her strong neck, he lifted himself in her 
cradle to resume their kiss.  Melinda casually made her way back to the 
bedroom with her precious cargo, but was stopped halfway by the ringing 
of the phone. 

"Let's not," Melinda said, looking at the concerned eyes of the man in 
her arms. 

"We really have to," Mack said, turning toward her. 

Melinda turned back into the living room, then bent down by the coffee 
table to allow Mack to pick up the receiver.  Once he had it, she 
straightened up again, and Mack held the receiver so they both could 
listen.  The voice on the other end wanted Melinda, so Mack was eased 
back onto the couch, and there he yielded the receiver.  It was Donna. 


******************* 


"This might get interesting," Lori said from across the room.  Kerri was 
more intent on finding out more from her little mate, so she let go of 
the sides of his head, which slumped back away from her vagina, bleeding 
and groggy.  She slid her armored knees back and forth again, grinding 
his legs together in the tight machinery of her lower body, snapping him 
out of his stupor and into a more attentive, and pained, state. 

"That's a good boy Gary. Now tell me who they are," Kerri sighed, 
backing off the pressure of her slabs of legs. 

"They work together, fighting crime I guess," Gary whimpered, pushing 
against the heavy, thick muscles still working away at the weak joints 
in his legs.  He slumped back in exhaustion, tears streaming from his 
wincing eyes. 

"Good. That's good. Now how do we find them?" Lori asked, crossing the 
room and lowering her pretty face beside his.  Gary hesitated, so Lori 
patted one of Kerri's giant thighs, making Kerri jump into a fury of 
lower body flexes, that crushed Gary's knees against one another, and 
made him convulse forward, hugging one huge thigh and begging for mercy.  
He couldn't even quite reach a half of the way around the beefy big 
muscles, but in his pain he would have grasp at anything. 

"Their numbers are over there," he said, intimating the phone on the 
wall. Kerri released her smashing leglock and went over to the dry erase 
board hanging by the phone. 

"Donna, Sunshine, Melinda, Deanna," Kerri read.  "Sound more like the 
Spice Girls than the Superfriends." 

"You did very well, Gary, and I want to reward you," Lori said, 
gathering his entire body into her mass of glutes, hamstrings and quads.  
Lori flexed, and immediately his groans were silenced. 

"I'm going to check out some of these numbers, and get some addresses," 
Kerri said, reaching for the phone books.  "Convenient of the phone 
company to provide a number to name book here," she chuckled.  "Do 
whatever you want with him.  We need to find these women," she finished, 
sitting down at the kitchen table. 

"My...darling...little...man," Lori said, accentuating each word with a 
jolt of pressure from her legs. 


******************* 



"I told him to call in if he was going anywhere he could get in 
trouble," Donna said as Melinda drove. 

"This is exactly what I was afraid of," Melinda replied, blowing through 
an intersection, just before the opposing traffic could get underway. 

"Easy chief," Sunshine said clutching at the back of her seat.  "He 
probably just forgot to call last night, and now he's probably at work." 

"I tried him there," Donna said, turning to look at Sunshine and Deanna, 
who was hunched forward in the back seat, looking ready for action. 

"We can try his home, but if he isn't there..." Melinda trailed off. 

"Just get to his place," Deanna said. 


******************* 


"Knock, knock," came the sweet female voice from the other side of the 
door. 

Mack looked up from his paper, hearing the knock and the voice.  He 
started for the door, but in only his silk boxers and black socks, 
didn't quite feel respectable. 

"Who is it?" he inquired, running back to the bedroom for his robe. 

"Police, sir, open up," responded the voice behind the door. 

Mack grabbed his robe and rushed back to the door, wondering what this 
was about.  He knew most of the cops in his precinct, so whoever was at 
the door must not be local.  Rushing, he undid the deadbolt, and twisted 
the knob, opening the door quickly. 

A giant woman forced the door open the whole way, grabbing Mack and 
dragging him down the hall, while another big woman stormed into the 
other rooms of the apartment.  At the end of the hall, he was slammed 
face first into the wall, and pinned there by a wide, solid forearm.  
"Where is she?" yelled the other woman. 

"Where is Melinda?" demanded the monster pinning Mack to the wall. 

Mack was being genuinely hurt by the force compressing him into the 
wall. "I thought she was with you.  Deanna, what is it?" Mack pleaded, 
confusing his captor with the only giantess he knew. 

"She's not here," Kerri yelled, lowering Mack to the floor and ripping 
his robe off him. 

"Where is she?" Lori demanded of Mack, entering the hallway from the 
bedroom. She pushed Kerri aside and grabbed Mack's shoulders, spinning 
him to face her. She then gathered the sides of his boxers in her hands, 
and picked him up, driving the silk material into his penis and behind.  
Mack reached forward to push Lori away, but with a toss of her head, she 
muscled her neck under his grip and secured his waist between her tree 
trunk arms.  She squeezed him hard, once.  Mack lost his air, and folded 
over painfully in her arms.  Lori paused, then squeezed and released 
again, this time giving him more of her strength.  Mack gyrated trying 
to escape, pushing weakly with his hands under her chin.  Lori dropped 
her head back out of his reach, and squeezed a final time, working the 
meat of her forearm against the small of his back.  She let go, and Mack 
dropped to a lump at her feet. 

"Where?" she asked, leaning down and running her hands through his hair. 

"Gary," was Mack's only breathless response before he passed out. 


  'The Price of Manhood'- Chapter 6 



Deanna's cocked fist shook with rage, but Melinda stopped it from going 
forward, as Donna produced the key to Gary's apartment.  Donna let the 
door swing inward as the four sets of attentive eyes scanned the inside 
of the dark apartment. The immediate view was only that of the hallway, 
leading off left to the living room and bedroom, and to the right to the 
dining room and kitchen.  Donna glanced over her shoulder at Melinda who 
signaled her to head to the left.  Melinda clasped her hand on Donna's 
shoulder, motioning Sunshine toward the kitchen. 

Sunshine slipped along the hallway wall in her appointed direction, and 
Donna and Melinda made their way toward the living room.  Deanna filled 
the doorway to the apartment as usual, preparing to give support as 
needed.  It only took a moment for Donna to cry out, seeing Gary 
sprawled out on the living room floor.  His legs were crumpled and bent 
outward, and he lay face up on top of his right arm. His shirt was 
bathed in blood, which seeped from a jagged hole over his heart.  He was 
dead. 

Deanna stormed into the room, but was stopped cold at the end of the 
hallway, as a teary-eyed Donna and a stone-faced Melinda crouched down 
near the body.  Deanna focused her eyes on the glistening pool of blood 
gathering on the broken chest of the man in the middle of the room.  Her 
ears began to vibrate with the thunder of her heartbeat, and her 
unblinking eyes became sticky as the gore began to consume her being.  
She felt immersed in the heavy blood, reeling as it flowed thickly by 
her; she was paralyzed by her senses, as the seconds rippled by, 
churning her sensory prison. 

Melinda turned to Deanna, and ordered her to call the police.  Deanna 
took an unsteady step backward, but had not registered Melinda's command.  
Her stomach knotted from the effort of moving, as the back of her neck 
tightened in sympathy. Melinda repeated herself, this time louder, as 
she rose facing Deanna.  Deanna only grew dizzy when Melinda moved, her 
vision reeling from the disturbance.  The pressure folded in again on 
her, crushing her skull from within. 

"Deanna!" Melinda yelled stepping toward her. 

"Don't move," came a calm male voice from the corner of the living room. 

The vice gripping Deanna snapped, and she turned, blinking at the form 
standing in the arch of the bedroom door.  A man dressed in black, 
wearing sunglasses, and holding a machine gun looked back at her.  Donna 
sprang up, toward the couch, and the man followed her movement with the 
weapon, while keeping his gaze fixed on Deanna.  Melinda spun into a 
combative stance, but she was also admonished by the black hole of the 
gun barrel, as it turned into her face as well. 


The stillness of the room made the moment seem frozen in time, as the 
man faced down the stunned giantess leaning against the wall, and held 
her friends in check with the threat of a quick and vicious death. 

The man seemed content with the situation, unmoving and expressionless 
in the corner of the room.  Donna tried to swallow, but was unable to 
force her dry throat to cooperate.  Her subtle effort made the dark 
figure take notice of her, and with the barrel of his gun, he directed 
her to take a seat on the couch.  Donna looked first at Melinda, who 
stood ready and motionless in the middle of the room, eyes transfixed on 
the weapon clutched in the black leather glove in front of her.  The man 
also motioned to Melinda and Deanna to sit down on the love seat against 
the wall closest to the man. 

Melinda thought about lunging for just a moment.  The distance was just 
too great.  Their best chance out of this situation, she reasoned, was 
Sunshine.  If she stayed put, she might get away to contact the police 
or get a gun.  If she entered the room, she might surprise the man long 
enough for him to be overtaken. In either case, she decided to 
cooperate.  She slowly stepped over Gary to take a seat on the little 
sofa. 

Deanna looked unsteady as she watched Melinda cross the floor and sit 
down. The natural pause after seeing Melinda sit compelled Deanna 
forward, but her progress was halted at the stain of blood seeping 
through the carpet.  Deanna stumbled around the body, feeling ill, and 
looking worse.  She found the edge of the seat cushion with her left 
hand, and gathered her legs back away from Gary. 

Now, all eyes turned to the man, who paused a moment, assessing the 
room.  In his own time, he took a step forward, at which point he came 
to see that the door to the apartment was still open.  He looked at all 
three of his prisoners before addressing Donna.  "Go shut the door.  
Lock it.  Then sit back down.  If you leave, I kill her," he said, 
pointing his gun barrel at Melinda. 

Donna looked at Melinda, who motioned her to comply.  She rose quickly, 
closed and locked the door, then returned.  As she locked the door she 
stole a glimpse down the hallway into the dining room.  Sunshine was 
nowhere to be seen. 

As Donna sat down the man pulled a little end table out from the wall, 
and clearing it off carefully, mindful not to break the trinkets 
collected on it, sat down.  He crossed his hands on his lap, over his 
weapon, and stared.  He stared directly into Deanna's eyes.  She 
returned his gaze, peering into the mirrored lenses of his shades.  In 
spite of the circumstances, their exchange was calm.  His demeanor 
almost soothed the Deanna's shaken nerves.  After a short time he sat 
back placidly, almost arrogantly, and cracked a small smile.  Deanna 
truly began to realize what was happening, and her face hardened as she 
looked at this calm, cold murderer.  That seemed to be the cue he had 
wanted, and her turn of mood prompted him to speak. 

"So," he said softly, and in a gravel toned voice, "you're Deanna." 

"And who are you?" Melinda shot back, breaking the silence of the trio.  
Her voice choking with rage, she added, "And why did you kill him?" 

"He was dead anyway," the man said, keeping his face locked into his 
visual grapple with Deanna.  He stopped Melinda's retort with the 
finality of his vocal inflection, then paused before continuing.  "I 
thought I'd locate you much sooner, but I suppose now is just as well."  
He was speaking only to Deanna, who's only answer was the growing 
shallowness of her breath.  Momentarily, the man cocked his head to one 
side, and leaned forward just a little.  "You do know me, don't you?" 

With a slow, easy motion, he reached for his glasses, and removed them, 
blinking several times, and smiling more broadly.  Now he reached even 
deeper into Deanna with his gaze, feeling around in her mind for a 
familiar fragment to wear. 

He gave her ten seconds, then turned to Melinda, sarcastically.  "No 
place even in her memory for her own brother." 

Deanna's mind was thrown into a spin.  She began to peel away the scars 
from the man's face, to smooth the groves worn into his forehead by 
time, and to recover the little man from her fourteenth birthday party, 
from her little white house in the suburbs.  Every emotion fought 
against the other in her mind- joy, sorrow, hate, love- all demanded 
attention.  She fought against reason, which told her to question and 
hate, against passion which wanted to hug and kiss her brother, and so 
many other things. 

Melinda turned to look at Deanna, and saw the recognition seep across 
her face, then again to Donna, who sat bewildered.  Tears wet Deanna's 
face, but her mouth expressed something other than sorrow, joy, anger.  
Her lips asked why. 

"Did I come back?  Now, and not sooner?" Tim finished his sister's 
thought. "For revenge.  The one dish best served cold." 

"For what?" Melinda asked, confused by the whole scene, and not entirely 
convinced that she was talking to Deanna's long lost brother. 

"Timmy, not for... graduation..." Deanna's weak voice managed. 

"No, not for graduation," Tim said, rising.  "I came to take back what 
you stole from me."  His smile evaporated and his voice deepened and 
shook. 

"What?" Deanna pleaded, desperately. 

"Why, my manhood, dear sister." 

"Tim..." Deanna began. 

"My Manhood!" Tim screamed.  "You remember," he lowered his voice again 
to low menacing tones.  "What I was taught.  WE were taught.  Self 
respect.  Courage. All the things you bled from me.  All the things that 
died that day on the school lawn.  Your constant attacks.  Your constant 
degradation's."  Tim lowered his head to level with Deanna's putting his 
gun behind his back.  "You making me helpless." 

Tim punctuated himself by tapping his chest with each word.  He again 
stood up to his full height. "I died that day.  Tim died that day.  That 
was the day you finished killing your brother.  The day I lost my 
manhood. 

"Well dear sister, I regained my manhood," Tim said sorrowfully, "But 
the price was my humanity." 

Tim folded his hands in front of him, firmly gripping his gun.  Deanna 
took in a deep breath, choked with tears, and wiped her forearms across 
her face. 

"So you've come back, just to kill me," Deanna said, trying hard to 
regain her composure. 


"No.  To cripple you."  Tim's response brutalized her effort to check 
her emotions, and Deanna's tears flowed harder than ever.  "Killing you 
would teach you nothing.  And it is far too late for simple revenge to 
satisfy me.  But making you weak, dependent, despondent- now that, I 
think, is appropriate retribution." 

Tim drifted over to the hallway, keeping watch on the three.  He 
indicated for Deanna to lay down on the floor, using the barrel of his 
weapon to make his point.  Deanna's hesitation made him point his gun 
toward Donna's legs.  Deanna began to rise, and Tim retracted his 
threat.  That's when Sunshine made her move. 

Like lightning, Tim and Sunshine blurred into one figure, a frenzy of 
arms, legs, and clothing.  Sunshine unloaded a stunning kick to Tim's 
right arm, the one holding the gun, managing to dislodge the weapon from 
his grip.  Tim, however, invisibly produced a long knife from his left 
side, and slashing back, caught Sunshine's left arm with its razor sharp 
edge.  The wound was quick and deep, and essentially incapacitated 
Sunshine. 

Donna and Melinda were in the fray on the next heartbeat, Donna locking 
her hands around Tim's left wrist, and wrenching to make him drop the 
knife.  An instant after she got there Melinda dealt a powerful shoulder 
block down low, doubling Tim's legs and putting him on the ground.  
Again Tim's hand disappeared for just a split second, this time holding 
a small metallic object. 

Tim stabbed downward at the mass of Melinda entwined around his legs.  
With her arms locked around Tim's legs to prevent him from kicking, she 
was unable to block or dodge the blow, and caught the heavy kubaton 
solidly on the top of her head.  Almost in one fluid motion, Tim's arm 
continued through its arc, and reaching the apex of the swing, started 
down again to stab into Donna's spine.  That motion was interrupted by a 
huge, muscular arm. 

Deanna yanked Tim's arm up, practically dislocating it, and pulled his 
body upward.  The motion made Donna's final wrench effective, and the 
knife dropped out of his hand on the way up.  Deanna cleared the floor 
with his body, and putting an arm under his chest, slammed him against 
the ceiling with bone splitting force. 

Instantly, she dropped him back to the floor, which he hit flat out, 
unable to gather his orientation enough to break his fall. 

Deanna gathered his limbs together behind his back, and told Donna to 
get her handcuffs.  These Donna produced from her belt, and Deanna held 
Tim while Donna cuffed him left wrist to right ankle, and vice versa, 
behind his back.  Deanna then picked him up and dumped him roughly on 
the love seat in the living room.  Donna immediately went to Sunshine 
and Melinda, holding the sore spot on her head, sat back against the 
hallway wall. 

Deanna stood over Tim watching him as he lay very still, coughing 
slightly, on the sofa.  Donna and Melinda presently gathered Sunshine 
up, and took her to the bathroom, to give her a little first aid.  As 
Donna attended to Sunshine, Melinda took the sheet from Gary's bed and 
draped it over the body.  She stood up next to Deanna, who watched her 
brother shudder slightly, but was otherwise motionless. 

"I'm going to call the police," Melinda said, giving Deanna a soft pat 
on the shoulder. 

"No!" Deanna yelled, batting Melinda's hand away. 

"Well what do you want me to do!" Melinda yelled back.  "He killed 
dozens of people.  Even if he is your brother, that's not going to go 
away." 

"I don't know what to do," Deanna said, turning on Melinda, "but I made 
him. Me.  I made him a killer." 

"You didn't make him kill.  That's not manhood.  He killed because he 
wanted to.  He wanted revenge on you, so he took it out on the world.  
He became a serial killer for himself, not because of you."  Melinda 
started for the phone. 

"He wasn't a killer before I came along," Deanna said, holding her head 
in her hands, weeping. 

"And I prefer you use the term assassin, thank you," Tim said, without 
looking up. 

"Assassins get paid, they don't do it for revenge, you sick shit," 
Melinda spat. 

"I am one of the highest paid assassins in the world, my dear.  And I 
have yet to kill for revenge.  I only kill for money," Tim continued in 
calm, even tones, "or mercy." 

"And which was Gary, you fuck," Melinda said, grabbing Tim's hair and 
yanking his head up.  Deanna turned away, not wanting to stop Melinda, 
but not wanting to see her hit Tim, either. 

"Mercy," Tim said, just as Melinda slapped him hard across the face, and 
let his head drop onto the couch. 

"You were looking for Deanna, and you thought someone who hung around 
muscle women could lead you to her, right?" Melinda spat, probing her 
suspect, growing in disgust for him.  Donna and Sunshine emerged from 
the bathroom, Sunshine holding her bandaged arm, and Donna with her arm 
around her.  Sunshine looked down at the bloodied sheet, while Donna 
looked at Melinda, growing more livid by the moment. 

"Not at all.  I was thinking that I had followed Deanna here," Tim 
remarked, picking his mouth up out of the cushion. 

"You were here before us," Melinda said, crouching down by Tim's ear. 

"But the other two were here before you," Tim replied, in almost a 
whisper. 

"The other two what?" Donna asked. 

"The other two monstrous women, of course." 

Down the hallway, the door rattled with the sound of keys being jiggled 
in locks, and the sound of the heavy footfalls preceded the entrance of 
two women. Both were every bit the size of Deanna, who stared in 
complete disbelief, as, for the first time in her life, Deanna saw two 
human beings she didn't instantly know she could handle. 

Every one of the people in the apartment was basically shocked into 
silence, except Tim, who chuckled, "Well if the damn gang isn't all 
here." 

The woman behind in the entrance dropped a big bag she was carrying, 
which made a sound not unlike that of a person being dropped.  The two 
hulks entered the apartment closing the door behind them, and the second 
grabbed the bag and drug it, protesting, into the living room.  There, 
she dropped it again, and looked around at the four women who were 
trying, some successfully and some not so, to grasp the significance of 
the two. 

"O.K., so you're not what we expected," Lori said, stepping over the 
sack she had just dropped and securing it between her legs. 

"Who are you?" Deanna said, in amazement. 

"A first guess would be your sisters," Kerri said, glancing around at 
the other people in the room.  Her gaze settled on Tim, who had turned 
over, facing front off the couch, his hands and feet still secured 
behind his back.  "I see you've caught our little peeping Tom," she 
said, indicating Tim.  "We'll have to punish him later." 

"Look," Melinda said, stepping forward, "I don't know who you are, but 
the police are going to be settling this matter now."  Donna and 
Sunshine, hiding her left arm, stepped up beside her, and Deanna moved 
forward, just behind her shoulder. 

"Aww, that's so cute.  A little Barbie standoff," Lori said.  "Just one 
question, though.  Which one of you is Melinda?" 

"I am," Melinda said quickly, wanting to seem as tough as possible. 

"Oh, well, I just thought you'd like to know how close you are to being 
single," Lori replied, and smiling broadly, uncovered Mack's head from 
the end of the bag clutched between her thighs.  Mack gasp at the air, 
but Lori squeezed him with power, to illustrate how easily she could 
snap him between her legs. 

"Mack!" Melinda screamed, striding forward.  She never made it past 
Kerri, who effortlessly pushed her back against Deanna before she could 
rush to her boyfriend's side. 

Deanna was the first to think of the gun Tim had dropped and she tried 
to look down discreetly for it.  It was nowhere in sight, however.  
Donna and Sunshine moved up to square off on Kerri, who shrugged her 
giant shoulders and flexed her back.  Her shirt tore off her from the 
rear, as her torso expanded like a mountain rising out of the desert 
horizon.  Lori flexed her arms, unstoppable biceps escaping her clothes 
as well, and with a last fierce squeezed that knocked Mack out, stepped 
up for the fight that her partner wanted to start. 

Deanna set Melinda back on her feet and stepped by her.  Lori crushed a 
CD stand to come shoulder to shoulder with Kerri.  With Melinda on her 
right and Donna and Sunshine on her left, Deanna took the initiative. 

Deanna moved forward, and went low, hoping to get underneath Kerri and 
lift her up, but Kerri caught her head in a smashing headlock, and 
dropped her feet back, out of Deanna's reach.  Melinda went high, 
jumping over Deanna's back, but she was simply smacked out of the way by 
Kerri's free hand.  Melinda put her hands out to avoid the wall, but the 
force of Kerri's push sent her into it anyway.  Kerri maneuvered Deanna 
with her titan grip, which compacted an iron neck very unused to being 
crushed.  She grabbed the side of Melinda's head and brutally hit her 
again and again into the wall.  Melinda tried to escape Kerri's grasp, 
but trying to pry her hand was like a baby pulling at a grownup's 
finger.  The thick fingers extended around one hemisphere of her skull, 
and the monstrous strength crushing her head into the wall soon overcame 
Melinda.  As soon as Kerri felt Melinda's strength leave her, she was 
able to concentrate on Deanna. 

Lori, in the meantime, was having more trouble getting a hold of her 
foes. The big raven haired Donna was easier, but every time she could 
grab an arm, or head, the smaller amazon would kick Lori powerfully in 
the face.  The damage was almost inconsequential, but enough to make her 
lose her grip.  Lori stepped back to square off again, this time 
noticing the bandage on the lithe kicking girl. This time Lori rushed 
her, accepting a flurry of punches which drew blood from her nose and 
above her eye.  But she had her.  Lori threw her weight onto the smaller 
woman, crushing her down to the carpet.  On the way down, she kicked at 
Donna's leg, bringing her down as well.  With Sunshine secured in her 
enormous arms, which she purposely rubbed up and down to loosen the 
bandage, she whipped her legs together around Donna and went to work on 
her ribs. 

In some ways, Donna was luckier than Sunshine, because neither of them 
could cope with Lori's inhuman strength.  But Lori picked Sunshine to 
abuse, which required making quick work of Donna.  So, Lori compacted 
Donna between her abusive legs, engulfing her upper body in a mass of 
sweaty muscle that she was not likely to withstand.  Donna passed out in 
the instant that many of her ribs gave up to the unbelievable pressure 
of Lori's most massive appendages. 

Sunshine was going to take a while longer.  Sunshine's futile struggles 
ended when Lori, finished putting Donna to bed, freed her legs from 
Donna's torso only to imprison Sunshine's legs between them.  Lori 
rolled onto her side, sliding her killer legs underneath Sunshine and 
fixing them around her hips.  She slid her mighty fingers between those 
of Sunshine's right hand and paralyzed her arm with the pain of her hand 
being mashed in her torturous grip.  The legs sapped all of Sunshine's 
spare strength with their heaving torment, compressing her hips to 
Lori's will.  Then Lori crept her right hand onto Sunshine's wounded 
left arm.  That was where she wanted to really get started. 

Lori momentarily admired the prodigious muscle of Sunshine's arm, 
stroking the area around the bandage.  Soon though, she pushed her 
fingers into the cut, using her thumb for leverage.  Her huge hand 
couldn't quite reach the whole way around Sunshine's arm, but it didn't 
matter.  Any pressure would have been excruciating, but Lori's strength 
made the move traumatizing.  Sunshine's head snapped back and forth, but 
the effort didn't even distract Lori, as she drove her broad hand into 
the wounded arm.  Lori snarled, feeling the blood trickle into her eye 
from the wound that Sunshine had inflicted on her.  The sting was 
enraging Lori, and that rage was killing Sunshine.  Lori lifted her 
clenching legs higher, now with the tops of her thighs breast high on 
Sunshine, and Sunshine's ass, spasming in pain, just emerging from the 
bottom of their bulk.  Lori let go of Sunshine's threatless arms and 
laced her fingers behind Sunshine's head.  Sunshine might not have 
survived as Lori yanked Sunshine's face into her iron abs while the legs 
clenched her life from her if not for the tide of the other battle in 
the room.  It had turned. 

Kerri had had an advantage on Deanna.  She was used to wrestling with 
Lori, who was almost exactly her equal in strength.  Deanna had never 
all her life fought against anyone who was even close to her strength.  
If she had started out as a young girl wrestling weightlifter men, she 
might have had some experience.  By the time she was older, she was 
stronger than everyone.  She knew how to handle someone quicker than 
her, more skilled, more agile, shorter, almost as tall.  Fighting with 
Kerri was a new experience for her. 

Deanna, however, had an advantage over Kerri too.  She was stronger.  
And as Kerri was beginning to find out, quite a bit stronger.  At first 
Deanna got her hands around Kerri's back.  Kerri maintained her 
headlock, but didn't force it to a choke, mainly out of amusement.  Then 
Deanna began to squeeze.  Still at first, Kerri thought about the 
futility of trying to crush her chest, a chest that could easily press a 
car, and then overturn a truck.  The pressure, however, began to mount 
as Deanna fought through the handicap of the headlock.  She quickly 
reached the hardest bearhug Lori had ever applied to Kerri, and then she 
seemed to lose her momentum.  That is what Kerri had counted on, 
figuring that would be about her best, and knowing that Lori couldn't 
quite make her submit with just a bearhug. 

Deanna hadn't run out of muscles, though.  She was just positioning her 
head to yank it away when she really turned up the juice.  In one 
instant, Kerri felt herself being lifted up and her lungs compressing, 
driving her wind, and her strength, from her.  It was Kerri's turn to be 
shocked, realizing that the clothed arms around her were noticablely 
bigger than those of her best friend.  The mistake cost her as Deanna's 
neck managed to pull out of the headlock, and an insane looking muscle 
woman emerged from Kerri's arms, intent on collapsing her.  That's when 
Kerri with her last ounce of air, asked for help. 

Lori was not happy that she couldn't go on exacting her revenge on this 
relative midget who had had the nerve to draw her blood.  But if Kerri, 
the stronger of them, was having trouble now, Lori knew it would not be 
best to wait for this other giant to finish her.  With a full blast of 
her massive legs, Lori put Sunshine out.  She kicked at the little weak 
amazon, knowing she would finish the job later. 

Lori rolled over to see Kerri hoisted up, her head bent by the ceiling, 
and Deanna growling into the twentieth second of her hold.  Kerri's 
hands were making sad attempts to find Deanna's eyes, but every couple 
of seconds, Deanna would shake the weakening hands away with a toss of 
her head, and redouble the pressure on Kerri's insides. 

Lori came at Deanna from behind, pulling her chin back, while working 
her fingers around to attempt a choke.  Deanna felt how vulnerable she 
was like this and immediately dropped Kerri, turning to face Lori.  That 
hadn't been what Lori had expected, and the moment of hesitation gave 
Deanna a chance to punch an unprotected chin.  If Deanna had hit 
accurately, the fight would have been over.  As it was, the monstrous 
fist sent Lori directly to her knees, but with enough wits to attack 
Deanna where it counts.  Lori's fist also missed its mark, however, Lori 
missed because of the burly layers of muscle surrounding Deanna's 
privates.  Deanna was about to kick her right leg forward, to grasp 
Lori's head in her gargantuan thighs, and punish her head like she never 
imagined it could be.  But her leg was stopped by the shaky but strong 
grip of the recovering Kerri. 

While Kerri grabbed Deanna's ankle, Lori lunged upward, connecting her 
shoulder with Deanna's face, and toppling the both of them backward.  
Deanna made a wise move, letting herself fall, and kicking her legs up 
to lock them onto Lori's sides.  She was destroying Lori's ribs before 
she hit the ground, locking her ankles up behind Lori's back and pouring 
force into Lori that only the three of them could take for more than a 
second.  But even Lori wasn't going to be able to resist Deanna's 
superior power, whose legs might have been twice as strong as Kerri's. 
But Kerri ended up with the upper hand.  She spun quickly, enveloping 
Deanna's head in her own husky legs and squeezing down with a terrific 
blast. 

"Let Lori go, or you die," Kerri hissed, pulling Deanna into her pussy 
and driving down harder on the sides of her head.  Deanna tried to crush 
Lori to death but the force on her head prevented that kind of effort, 
and Deanna, after several vain attempts to push out of Kerri's thighs, 
reluctantly released her scissors. 

Kerri backed her headscissors off a little, but by no means enough to 
end Deanna's pain, and in a minute, after recovering, Lori snaked her 
own wide thighs around Deanna's stomach.  Both of them squeezed for a 
while, to vent some anger, or just for the sheer pleasure of squeezing 
someone who didn't break immediately under their awesome strength.  In a 
minute, Kerri signaled that it was enough, and the two of them, with 
legs locked ready, eased the pressure to almost nil. 

"Now that we have your attention, we'd like to offer you a deal," Kerri 
said. 

"Remember now, your choices are deal or die," Lori said, constricting 
again, briefly. 

"You can be one of us," Kerri said. 

"Never, fuck you," Deanna defied. 

"Oh you're probably one of us already.  Tell me you don't like crushing 
and squeezing.  Men especially.  Tell me you don't like using your 
strength and feeling the weakness of others.  You love being so strong 
that no one can stop you from doing anything you want.  And so do we," 
Lori said, feeling under Deanna's shirt. Deanna squirmed so Lori applied 
a squeeze forceful enough to make her stop.  She then ripped Deanna's 
shirt off her, and played with her heavy pecs. 

"No one can survive your legs if you don't want them to," Lori 
continued. "You love to feel someone trying to get away from you.  You 
love feeling their hands tremble as they search your body for a flaw, 
and don't find any.  Feeling a big, strong man's body giving in because 
you decided it would, and only stopping if you feel like it.  You can 
put him in pain with the tiniest of effort, and hold him there forever.  
There is literally nothing he can do to stop you. 

"You are the ultimate body.  Any little girl who ever laughed at your 
muscles in grade school would feel like putty in your godlike grip.  Her 
weak, soft body wouldn't last a second.  The body she was so admired for 
is useless compared to yours.  But is doesn't matter, weak or strong, 
they're all like babies to you. Helpless, fragile under your power.  
Feel one now.  Think about a big football player, struggling for his 
life in your thighs.  He's learning the hard way what real muscle is, 
and he's learning it from you. 

"There," Lori said, feeling Deanna's nipples harden as she spoke.  "Your 
body will answer me, even if your tongue won't.  Because your body knows 
what you want, but your mind is conditioned to listen to other people.  
Well we don't.  Kerri and I do what we want.  Those rules that make you 
feel bad about reveling in your power were made by weak people.  They're 
afraid of us.  And they should be. 

"Have you ever crushed a man to death with these big legs.  That's what 
they're made for.  These legs were not put on this earth to carry you up 
and down stairs.  Chicken legs could do that.  Your legs, your body, 
were made to crush, to dominate.  Your will is the most important.  So 
you have a body that can enforce it. If it is your pleasure to crush the 
life from a man, you can.  You should.  His little weak body unable to 
take the sheer power of yours.  How good would that feel? 

"I guess you know," Lori said, putting her hand into Deanna's pants and 
feeling the wetness growing there.  "And this is just talk.  Think about 
being able to actually do it.  The three of us, our strength flowing 
freely."  Lori was now fully penetrating Deanna with her strong fingers, 
Deanna's vagina cooperating by lubricating to her touch, and clenching, 
wanting to climax. 

Deanna knew that this was what she wanted.  She had wanted her whole 
life to kill a man in her legs, and feel how good it would feel to know 
she had overpowered him in the ultimate way.  She had only ever gotten 
to punish men for their weakness, never really ignore her conscience and 
society and everything.  This was her dream, and she knew now that she 
could finally have what she wanted.  No more morals, just pleasure.  
This opportunity would never come along again.  She just had to take her 
place in the company of her sisters. 

"I'd rather die," Deanna said, fighting to get Lori's hand out of her 
pants and choking back her tears. 

"Well, that's good bitch, 'cause I'd rather kill you," Lori hissed back, 
and both her and Kerri locked up to crush Deanna like so many that had 
gone before her. 

Deanna felt her head cracking and her vision ran red.  Her ears pounded 
with deafening thumps, and Deanna wept for her life silently, having run 
out of air. Suddenly, the pressure on her head ceased, and her burning 
face felt moist.  The pressure relaxed on her chest, then it too ceased 
all together, and Deanna felt nothing but large, warm thighs surrounding 
her.  She pushed against the legs on her head and felt them move 
effortlessly.  She sat up, vision still blurred, ready to fight.  The 
first thing she noticed was that Kerri's head was gone. 

The floor was splashed in blood, and Deanna was covered in it.  She 
quickly scrambled to her feet, to see that Lori was missing the better 
part of her head too. The cause quickly became obvious.  Timmy was 
sitting on the couch, a pair of handcuffs dangling from each arm, and 
brandishing a large pistol with a silencer. 

Deanna slumped back against the wall, scared and horrified.  Timmy stood 
up, worked at first his one wrist, and then the other, freeing himself 
from the cuffs. He then unscrewed the silencer from the automatic, and 
stood before Deanna. 

"I guess now you want to cripple me," Deanna said, feeling sadness of 
getting out of the frying pan and into the fire. 

"Yes," Tim replied, lifting his weapon.  He walked over to Deanna, and 
placed the barrel of his gun against the nape of her neck.  She closed 
her eyes and once again sobbed softly, waiting for the impact.  "But not 
today," Timmy said, putting the gun back in his coat.  From under the 
edge of the couch he pulled his machine gun, and, in the hallway he 
picked up his other weapons.  He went to reach for the door, but 
hesitated, turning.  "See ya, sis," he said gently, then disappeared 
into the hall. 


******************* ******************* 


Deanna walked along the boardwalk, listening to the cries of the 
seagulls. She threw her last piece of bread out, watching the birds 
swoop down to the sand to fight over it.  The waves crashed into the 
shore, again and again.  Funny, Deanna thought, how peaceful and calming 
something so relentless could be. 

She leaned over the railing, and the breezed touched her hair in just 
such a way, as to make her think about it.  She looked up at the 
tranquil moon, dancing with the ocean, and winking to her.  She liked 
life.  She was happy to be alive. 

She started at the hand that touched her gently on her side.  The man 
put his arm under hers, and she clasped her hand around his. 

"I didn't see any flowers for sale, so I bought some fried mushrooms," 
the man said, holding out a small bag. 

"Mushrooms!" Deanna said, laughing. 

"Well, I figured, they're at least a plant," explained the man. 

"Not a very romantic one," Deanna giggled. 

"Have you ever had a fried mushroom," warned the man. 

"Yes," said Deanna, in an 'of course I have' manner. 

"And you mean to tell me, you weren't turned on by them," he returned, 
reaching into the bag. 

"No," Deanna said, bursting with laughter. 

"Natural aphrodisiac," said the man, tossing the mushroom into his mouth 
and chewing.  "Oh, yeah," he said closing his eyes. 

"Give me one," Deanna said, reaching into the bag, and biting into her 
own. She took his hand and led him down onto the beach.  Near the 
tideline, they spread a blanket and finished their mushrooms, talking 
until the sun kissed them good morning.