Amanda - The Beginning
By Muscle Fan, covert.1@hotmail.com



I took the job at Biomax Labs so that I could continue my education during the
days and pick up some much needed money at night. The job itself was pretty
easy. Once the day shift left, which was between 4:00 and 5:00, I cleaned the
animal cages, as well as fed and watered them. There were no large primates,
only mice, rats and some Guinea pigs. A cleaning crew handled the offices,
lobby and meeting rooms, but they were in and out by 7:00. My shift ended at
midnight at which time I turned out the lights and locked up, making sure all
the animals were safe and secure in their cages. 'What could go wrong', I
thought.

My name is John and this is my story.

The staff in general went about their business. I only needed to interact with
them for an hour or so each evening, which suited me fine. I'm somewhat of a
nerd and not a social being. There was one lab assistant that I would have
liked to know better, Amanda. She was tall, thin, with blonde hair that she
kept in a ponytail. Like the others, she went about her business doing
whatever lab assistants do, but would smile at me when she would come in the
'animal room', which wasn't all that often.

When I casually inquired about Amanda, I had been told that she was brilliant,
if somewhat unorthodox. I wasn't quite sure what that meant, but I found her
fascinating.

One spring day in April, I was doing my chores, filling food cups and
unloading a pallet of supplies that had just arrived when Amanda came into the
room. Her eyes were red and I could tell she had been crying. She glanced at
me and rather than look away, which I normally did when she looked in my
direction, I said, "What's wrong Amanda?" "I just got laid off," she blurted
out, followed by sobs.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, "I thought things were going well here." "I
did too," she said, "now I don't know what I'll do. I'll have to look for
another job," and with tears welling up in her eyes, she put her head on my
shoulder.

Two weeks passed and while my job remained the same mundane routine as ever, I
found myself thinking about Amanda. It certainly helped pass the time. I was
reading when I heard a rap on the window. At first I thought it might have
been a branch or something hitting the pane, but it came again, louder this
time.

I brought the step stool over and climbed up. Peering out the window, I saw
Amanda in the shrubs outside. She made a motion for me to open the door by the
loading dock where supplies come in. I did and she rushed in.

"What are you doing here," I asked. "Well, it's good to see you, too," she
said. I blushed having forgotten my manners. "I'm sorry, I was rude. How are
you," I asked, "found a new job yet?" "No," she said, "and I've lost my
apartment. I need the money for my car and gas more than I did that apartment.
Can I stay here?" I looked around. "Here?" I asked. "Yes, here," she said,
"I've got everything I own in my car, but nowhere else to go." "Gee, I don't
know, Amanda," I replied, "this isn't exactly a hotel or anything, besides
what if security finds you?" "They won't find me, they only patrol the
perimeter and don't come in the building till the morning," she said. This was
all true.

I must say, the thought of spending time with a hot chick was sounding good.
"Sure," I said, "why not?" She jumped up and down a little and gave me a quick
kiss on the cheek. "Ohh, thank you, John," she exclaimed.

We wound up talking for the next 5 hours, my studying all but forgotten until
my shift ended. I learned that her parents were no longer alive and she had no
brothers or sisters. No aunts, uncles and only one cousin that lived in the
Seattle area, but that was it. Amanda was alone. It made me thankful for what
family I had.

I locked up after checking my animals one more time and turned out the lights.
Amanda said she'd be just fine.

And so we fell in a sort of routine, one that I looked forward to with
increasing desire. I would come to work and do as much as I could while the
doctors, chemists, lab associates and secretaries were there, then Amanda
would come by the 'animal room', as I called it and we'd talk into the night.
Avoiding the janitorial staff, she said, was not a problem.

Towards the end of May, we were sitting in the outer office and Amanda asked
what type of a woman I was attracted to. I told her that I preferred athletic
women, but that my dating experience had been pretty much confined to the
'nerdy' kind of girl. "You mean you would date a gymnast or volleyball player
over an actress," she asked. "Well, yeah," I said, "but actually, I was
thinking more along the lines of a female bodybuilder or fitness model."
"Hmm," she said, "that was one of the last projects I worked on here,
development of a muscle enhancement drug. It would be used in the medical
field as a safe, non-addictive replacement for steroids."

"That's wild," I said, "I never really knew what Biomax did, except for what
the company brochure said, and who can really tell from that?" "I know what
you mean," Amanda said, "but Biomax seemed like it was on the verge of some
real breakthroughs, or so I thought till they let me go."

"What do you think of my muscles," Amanda said as she flexed her right arm. A
small mound formed, and I smiled. "Oh, John," she said, "you just wait, I'm
going to be the muscle girl of your dreams." 'How could I tell her that she
was already the girl of my dreams, with or without the muscles?' Instead, I
said, "So are you working out or something?" "Maybe," she said, and gave me a
hint of a smile.

At first, the change was difficult to pinpoint. I noticed little things; her
clothes fit tighter, she seemed to carry herself differently and her
inhibitions loosened. I knew her and had grown closer, and that could explain
why she was now more relaxed with me and maybe with a change of her diet, she
was simply gaining weight. I couldn't very well say she was fat; she was just
'filling out' as my mom would have said.

This particular evening, Amanda was sitting on a carton containing eight
10-pound boxes of 'kitty litter.' This was what I put on the bottom of the
cages to help absorb the urine and stem the smell. She was wearing shorts and
as we talked, she was watching her quadriceps flex. The muscles in her thighs
jumped as she absently ran a hand over them. "What are you doing?" I asked.
Without taking her eyes from her thigh, she said, "I was just admiring my
muscles, don't you find them fascinating?" "I'm not sure I find them
fascinating," I said, "but I do find them sexy." I immediately turned red and
regretted being so bold. She looked up at me and smiled, "Why John, what a
sweet thing to say," she said, "What do you think of my arms now?" She flexed
her bicep and a small mound appeared.

My jaw must have dropped because the change from two weeks ago was incredible.
"I can tell you like what you see, but watch this, John," Amanda said, and got
up off the cardboard box and bent and lifted the 80-pound box of kitty litter.
"Wow," I said, "I don't even lift that, I empty the box first, taking out the
10-pound boxes one at a time. Have you been working out?" "In a manner of
speaking, yes," she said, "that and supplementing my workouts with a little
growth hormone that we were working on before I got sacked." "That could be
dangerous," I said, "taking the growth hormone, not the working out part. You
know, before its fully tested." She smiled and purred, "But you like a girl
with muscles don't you, John," and she walked up to me and ran a finger under
my chin. "Ah, sure, Amanda, I love girls with muscles, you know that," I said,
she chuckled, and then kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"Good," Amanda said, "Because I'm going to move in with you." "What?" I said,
"but my condominium is so small, I, err, what will the neighbors say, how
would I explain, I mean ... " and I trailed off my ramblings as she put her
finger to my lips. "Shh," she whispered, "it's going to be fine. I won't be a
bother, you'll hardly know I'm there." 'I doubt that,' I thought. "Now, I'll
be back before you leave, John, I've got to work out and take care of a few
odds and ends," Amanda said, and before I could protest anymore, she was gone.

Biomax Labs was a sprawling complex. It had a cafeteria, fully equipped gym,
swimming pool, and sauna, computer center, meeting rooms, day care center as
well as the laboratories and offices. I had only been to half of the complex.

Amanda entered the gym. Empty as usual. She went directly to the locker/shower
room and stripped off her shorts and blouse. She hadn't been wearing any shoes
or sandals. Looking at herself in the mirror, she put her hair in two
pigtails, fastening each securely with a rubber band. She kept her hands
behind her head and admired her newly created muscles. Her stomach was firm,
and she liked the way her quads were showing definition of each muscle group.
Her breasts, which had always been small, seemed even smaller. But that was
probably her imagination, or at least she hoped so. She'd have to ask John.

As she ran a hand over her stomach her fingers traveled down to the patch of
pubic hair that covered her mons. She viewed herself with a critical eye. 'I
need to do something about this,' she thought, 'I'll shave after my workout.'

Tearing herself away from the mirror, she reentered the gym floor and
proceeded to warm up. Sit ups, crunches, seated leg lifts and a half-hour
worth of cardio on the stair-master had her skin glistening. Amanda then moved
on to the lateral pull-down machine where she worked her shoulders and
trapezius muscles mercilessly. Bent over dumbbell fly's, seated military
presses and one arm dumbbell raises made her shoulders burn. After two hours
of non-stop exercising, she admired herself in the mirror. Her traps were
pumped and she was beginning to detect striations across her chest. She was
pleased with her workout.

Amanda showered and lathering her pubic area, shaved carefully. After toweling
off, she applied a light unscented body lotion, liberally rubbing it on to her
newly shaved mons. She allowed herself a few minutes of pleasure as she
stroked her clit with her index finger, while watching herself in the mirror.

Amanda had kept three lockers since getting laid off, two in the women's area
and one in the men's locker room. These are where she had a small stash of
clothing as well as toiletries. She pulled on a pair of black leggings,
stiletto pumps and a halter top that uplifted her small breasts ever so
slightly. The leggings ended about 4-inches below her navel and gave a perfect
view of her firm stomach. She had thought about rolling the waistline down
even further, but she didn't want John to think her too aggressive, that could
come later.

I had my back to the door when she entered. I turned when I heard the door
open and close. Looking at Amanda standing there, I couldn't help but get a
hard-on. She was breathtakingly beautiful and powerful at the same time. I
quickly looked her up and down, and then repeated the process just to make
sure I hadn't been dreaming.

She smiled at me and said, "I really turn you on, don't I?" and she laughed,
that soft, sexual laugh. Momentarily at a loss for words, she said, "Let's go
John, I don't have all night. Well, actually I do, but I don't want to spend
it here, any longer."

We exited the building and took my car. Hers was still parked in a back space
in perhaps the furthest lot from the building. Several other 'second' or
'third' cars of employees were semi-permanently parked there.

I kept steeling glances of Amanda as I drove. My two bedroom condo was a short
drive from Biomax and an even shorter drive from the college I attended. The
condo complex was made up of mostly students, but there were a few older
residences as well.

I unlocked the front door and stepped aside to allow Amanda to enter first. As
she did, she glanced about and drew a finger across the top of the TV. "This
is dirty, clean it," she said, and then headed off in the direction of the
bedroom. I followed closely behind and as she came through the door, she
wrinkled her nose. "Crap, John, don't you ever clean in here," she said, "what
is that foul smell?" "I don't smell anything," I said.

She was still looking around and when I said I didn't smell anything, her head
whipped around. "What," she said, "You don't smell anything, who?" My brain
was going a mile a minute when I said, "I don't' smell anything Amanda." WHAP!
She slapped my face. Not hard, but it caught me off guard and I let out a
little squeal.

"You will refer to me as Mistress, when you address me, do you understand?"
she said. "Yes, mistress," I said. "Good, now, what is that smell," she asked
again. "I don't smell anything, mistress," I said.

"Strip that bed and clean those sheets. Put on a new set if you have them, you
don't expect me to sleep in this filth do you? You probably came on those
sheets, didn't you?" she said. I looked at her, then down at the ground and
said, "Well, maybe, mistress." She sneered and said, "I know, I can smell your
cum, it's all over the place in here. From now on you are not to come unless I
tell you, do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress," I said.

She walked to the closet and began jamming my clothes together. Half the
closet was emptied in minutes. "There," Amanda said, "that should do. Give me
your car keys, I'm going to get some of my things now, and empty out some
drawers for my clothes, I'll be back in an hour." I handed her the keys and
was about to say something else when she grabbed my cock and squeezed, then
leaning close to my face said, "And don't forget to make the bed with fresh
sheets and dust this pig sty." She gave my cock one last squeeze then was gone
out the door.

My mind swirled. 'What the hell was happening?' I thought, 'Amanda is gorgeous
and I love her muscles, but I feel like some sort of a slave or something.'
But I put the laundry on, did a quick dusting in the living room and then put
fresh sheets on the bed. I was just putting the vacuum cleaner away when the
door opened and Amanda came through carrying a shoulder full of clothes on
hangers and a cardboard box under the other arm. "One more trip, Johnny," she
said and was gone again out to get more clothes.

She came back in with a similar load. She hung her clothes that were on
hangers up in the closet and had sat both boxes on the bed. She opened first
one drawer, then another looking for an empty one. Not finding any, she looked
at me with a scowl on her face. Without saying a word, she pulled open the
drawer I keep my underwear and socks in and emptied it onto the floor. "I'll
just take these top two," she said, "since you didn't provide space." And she
emptied the next drawer down on top of the underwear.

"You won't need that underwear, John, I have a bunch of panties you can wear,"
Amanda said and held up a pair from one of her boxes. The satin triangle was a
turquoise blue. "Here," she said, tossing them to me, "put those on, Johnny."
I was still wearing my jeans and a button-down shirt. I stood there with the
panties in my hand looking down at them. Amanda came stood mere inches in
front of me and grabbed my shirt, bunching it in her fist. "Put the panties
on, slave, and be quick about it," she said in a deep growl.

I quickly shed my clothes and stepped into the panties, my cock peeking out
above the elastic band. I have to confess, the satin felt cool and good
against my balls. With one fingernail she flicked the head of my penis that
was above the elastic. "That will go down, won't it Johnny?" she said. "Yes,
mistress," I said, "You just make me hard is all." "Ohh, how sweet," she said,
"I knew we'd make great roommates."

"It's getting late," she said as she kicked off her stilettos, "You can finish
cleaning up tomorrow," and she peeled her halter top over her head. "I'll have
my eggs over easy and unbuttered white toast. Coffee too," Amanda said as she
peeled her leggings from those marvelous thighs, revealing her newly shaved
pubic area. She stood facing me, her left hand on her pelvic bone, her right
lightly touching her clit. She smiled at me and said, "I know you want to make
love to my pussy, don't you slave. Maybe someday, maybe someday," she
repeated, "Now go to bed," and with her right hand, she put her palm on my
chest and pushed me towards the door. "Good night, mistress," I managed before
the door clicked shut. "Remember," she said from the other side of the bedroom
door, "no masturbating."

The following day, I had just finished cleaning the kitchen when the bedroom
door opened. Amanda strode into the kitchen wearing one of my T-shirts. Her
nipples showing through the fabric like two small grapes. "Get that breakfast
started, John, I'm going to shower," she said and pulled the T-shirt over her
head. She was naked. She padded in the direction of the master bath, the T
slung over one shoulder, her tight rear end swaying as she walked. It was all
I could do to stop from reaching for my cock and relieving myself.

After emerging from the shower, she returned to the kitchen, a bath towel
wrapped around her body and a smaller towel covering her hair. She sat at the
breakfast bar and crossed her legs allowing the towel to fall open. "Here,
mistress," I said, "eggs over easy, white toast no butter." I also sat a mug
of hot coffee before her. She tasted the eggs, then with reckless abandon,
wolfed down her food. She was mopping up the yoke from her plate when a
droplet landed on her chest. "Get that off of my chest, slave," she said, and
I obediently obeyed, licking the yellow goo from her chest. "Good, John," she
said, "Clean this place up and don't forget the dishes." "Yes, mistress," I
said.

She stood up and stripped the towel from around her as well as the one from
her damp mane. She walked back into the bedroom, but before entering, turned
and said, "I'm going shopping. I'll be back in a couple of hours." She turned
and went into the bedroom, emerging 10-minutes later dressed in a leather
mini-skirt, black silk blouse and her stiletto pumps. 'She will turn some
heads, that's for sure,' I thought.

In her hand she held a pair of her panties. "Here," she said standing before
me, "put these on." I took the nylon briefs and held them up. The two small
triangular pieces of material certainly wouldn't contain my manhood, but I
knew I'd suffer the consequences if I disobeyed Amanda. I quickly stripped off
the shorts and underwear I was wearing and put on her panties.

"Much better, but I see that you do indeed need a pouch for your cock and
balls," she said running a well manicured nail across my scrotum. "I'll pick
you up some male-panties, just to show I appreciate all of your hard work,"
Amanda said. "Thank you mistress," I said. "Right," she said, "now give me
your credit card." "What?" I asked. "Your credit card, bitch, give me your
credit card," Amanda said, her voice rising, "don't make me punish you, as
much as I'd like to." I found myself cringing and took a step backwards as she
took one towards me.

"I'll get my wallet," I said, raising my hands as if to ward her off. I
scurried into the spare bedroom and returned with my wallet. I handed her the
plastic card. She snatched it out from my grasp in one quick motion, dropping
it in her handbag. She turned and started for the door, then stopped and
turned back. "By the way, I want you to get rid of all that hair," Amanda
said, pointing at me, "I'll pick up a few things for that as well." And before
I could say anything, she was gone.

I scrubbed the house from top to bottom, all the while wearing the panties she
had given me. I was vacuuming the bedroom (now her bedroom apparently) when I
noticed the nightstand drawer partially open. Shutting off the machine, I
pulled the drawer open. There, I found a large realistic looking rubber dildo
and a plastic vibrator. I turned the knob at the base of the vibrator and it
hummed to life. I ran it along my penis and the sensation was wonderful. I
found myself becoming aroused.

The rubberized dildo was larger than my erect penis. It was about a foot long
and perhaps 3-inches in diameter. Larger, but not by much, I was pleased to
see.

I turned off the vibrator and put the two phallic toys back in the nightstand
drawer. I stood there listening, and when I didn't hear footsteps or a car
door outside, I slid open one of the dresser drawers she used. This drawer
held panties of every imaginable color and design. Some with tie sides, string
sides, satin, nylon and cotton, animal print, solids and prints. There must
have been forty pair of panties. Also, bras; some matched particular panties,
lacy ones, satin ones, latex and spandex. Another item caught my attention, a
strap on dildo. This was about the size of the one in the nightstand, but had
straps to go around Amanda's legs and butt. The straps were adjustable and I
imagined it being worn by my mistress. What a turn on.

I was about to put her toy back in the drawer when I heard the front door. I
quickly replaced it and slid the drawer shut with only a second to spare as
Amanda came into the bedroom. She looked at me, then to the nightstand and
then to the dresser. I must have been red, because she said, "Snooping in my
things, were you, John?" "Ah, yes, mistress," I said deciding it better to
tell the truth than lie. "Did you see anything you liked," she asked sounding
amazingly calm. "Yes, mistress," I said, trying to match her calmness.

"Don't keep me waiting," she said, "what did you find of mine that you liked?"
Now I was beginning to worry a little. "I liked your vibrator," I said. She
smiled as she unbuttoned her blouse and removed it. "And would you like me to
run it up your ass," she asked. "No mistress," I replied. "Then what do you
want me to do with it?" she asked and removed her skirt. "I want to watch you
use it," I said. Now she smiled. She was wearing only her stilettos. She
opened the drawer and withdrew the vibrator. She turned it on and it hummed.
"So, Johnny, you want to watch, huh?" she asked, as she moved the tip to her
clit. "Oh, yes, mistress," I said as I watched her run the head of the machine
around her pussy.

She licked her lips and with half closed lids, inserted the vibrator an inch
into her waiting vagina. "Do you like what you see, Johnny?" she asked, and I
briefly tore my stare away from her pelvic area and looked at her face. She
had a euphoric look about her, but her eyes burned with desire. "Yes,
mistress," I said, "I love to watch you."

She smiled and when I looked back to her clit, I was amazed to see only the
last 2-inches of the vibrator. Amanda released her grasp on the machine and as
if pulled by some unknown force, it disappeared inside of her vagina. It
reappeared seconds later, but only the last couple of inches.

"Lay on the floor, Johnny," Amanda said. I did and then she straddled my
torso. By now the vibrator was moving in and out as if by some invisible hand.
The speed of the plastic cylinder increased. As I lay there I couldn't help
but marvel, 'This is fantastic, my muscle mistress masturbating over me, my
dream come true.'

I could hear Amanda's breathing increase and she was making soft moaning
sounds. Then she quickly told me, "Pull it out, pull it out!" I reached up and
using my thumb and index fingers, pulled the vibrator from her pussy. As soon
as I did, I was greeted with a shower of her come. Her hand rubbed her clip as
the downpour continued.

My face and chest was covered with her juices. The carpet on which I lay was
soaked. Amanda teased the last few droplets from her clit.

"Oh, Johnny, that was incredible," she said, "did you enjoy watching your
muscle mistress get off?" "Yes, mistress," I said. "Oh, but you need to
relieve yourself, don't you, poor baby," she said as she looked at my swollen
cock. She then lowered herself to a full squat, swallowing my manhood inside
her. The sensation I felt was like nothing I had ever experienced. A rhythmic
pressure ran from the base of my member to the very tip. I must have only
lasted five-minutes when I came.

Amanda knew and said, "Don't worry, Johnny, Amanda can make you last longer,
but for right now, we need to get ready for work. Clean your come from me,
then we'll shower." She moved forward and I cleaned her vagina of my come. The
milky mix of both of our juices had a salty sweetness to it.

We showered and dressed for work. 'Well,' I thought, 'me for work and Amanda
for working out.'

I now wore a G-string for men. The pouch was black satin and it felt as if I
had nothing on. The straps were elasticized. I wore this under my usual work
attire.