My Secret
By Muscle Fan



My name is Gina Slaughter. This is not my real name, however, but one I feel
is appropriate for the telling of my story. I am, or was, a competitive
bodybuilder. I competed in several amateur competitions before turning pro.
I'm a personal trainer and own my own gym. I'm also a dominatrix, but that's
not my secret.

As a bodybuilder, I did well. I trained hard and dieted. I was lean and cut
for my competitions and won several amateur and one professional event. I
weighed one hundred sixty pounds and stood five-feet five-inches tall. What I
considered 'all muscle'. I no longer competed. Perhaps you could say I got
burnt out, but the truth of the matter was I just wanted more. 'More what', I
thought, I didn't know, but I wanted more.

I had moved to Las Vegas from southern California in part because I bought my
gym, a gym I wanted to devote to the serious body builder and power lifting
competitors. I knew it would attract some 'looky-loo's' who just wanted to
gawk at the men and women in the sport, but I suppose any sport has its
groupies.

One of my clients, Beth, who I was prepping for a local contest, lost her
mother to cancer. She asked me to stop by her mother's house before her
brother came to box things up for donating the items to charity or to salvage.
I drove to the house which was in an older section of Vegas near the downtown
area. It was a small frame house with a detached garage. I pulled in the
driveway in back of Beth's Lexus.

"Thank you for coming, Gina," Beth said, meeting me in the driveway, "I didn't
know if you'd be interested or not, but there's some gym things in the garage.
I need to collect some of mom's things from the house before Ben shows up."
Beth's brother Ben sounded like a bit of a loser from what she had told me and
he was flying in from Denver. "Sure," I said, "I'll take a look." Beth opened
the garage door and I could see an inclined bench and an old rowing machine
from where I stood. "I'll be in the house," Beth said, "Take anything you
want," and she went to the back door.

'This doesn't look promising,' I thought as I headed for the back of the
garage. I found a barbell and several dumbbells. 'Not the commercial type that
I could put in the gym,' I thought. The inclined bench looked to be in good
shape but would need to be reupholstered. I dragged that to the front of the
garage. 'I wonder if all of this stuff belonged to Ben,' I thought.

I had combed through most of the things that were of interest to me when a
wooden box caught my eye. It was on a shelf along the rear wall. 'Femex', the
name on the side of the box said. It had a shipping label with Beth's mom's
address. 'I've never heard of 'Femex',' I thought, but then a line caught my
eye, 'for the active female athlete. Probably not Ben's.'

Finding a hammer, I pulled the box from its shelf and proceeded to loosen the
lid. Inside were a dozen glass bottles surrounded by what looked like coarse
sawdust. I picked up a bottle and looked at the label. The familiar blue
'Femex' name was there along with instructions on dosage. 'One tablet daily,'
it read, 'to maintain a healthy body.' I wasn't sure why, but I replaced the
lid and put the box in the back of my truck, along with the bench and the
dumbbells, not that my gym needed them.

I let myself in the back door and found Beth in the bedroom amidst bags filled
with clothes. "Find anything, Alex," she asked. "Just some dumbbells, and a
bench" I said, "I can take them to the gym." "Good," she said, "I'm just
bagging up some of mom's clothes; I'll take them to the donation center." I
looked around, "OK, Beth, see you at the gym," and I left.

I kept the dumbbells and bench in the back of the truck, but took the wooden
box into my house. I put it on the kitchen counter and pried the loose lid off
again. I took one of the bottles of capsules into my office and looked up
'Femex' on the computer. What I found was that the company went out of
business in the early 50's having never obtained approval of the FDA to market
their 'supplements for the athletic female.' The article further said that
'Femex' was to 'provide stamina, strength and endurance.' 'So how did a case
of 'Femex' come to be in Beth's mother's garage,' I wondered.

I opened the bottle and shook out a capsule in my palm. The casing hadn't
broken down and the powder inside looked dry. Apparently moisture hadn't
gotten to them. I walked back into the kitchen. 'I wonder what these do,' I
thought looking at the capsule. I studied it for a minute and then thought,
'Well, there's only one way to find out.' I washed it down with a glass of
water. 'OK, time to get busy," I thought, 'I'll run that bench and dumbbells
by the gym'.

In the bedroom, I got undressed and looked at myself in the mirror, turning
first one way and then the other. 'Not contest shape,' I thought, 'but I look
pretty good, flat stomach and decent muscle tone.' I put on a pair of shorts,
T-shirt and slipped on my cross trainers and headed for the gym.

Jerry, my manager was there, of course. He's very dependable. At this time of
day, the gym was sparsely populated. Mostly men, bouncers from the clubs or
security personnel who needed to keep in shape. "I've got a bench and some
dumbbells to drop off," I told Jerry, "I just got them from Beth's mother's
house." "Do you need a hand, Gina?" Jerry asked. "No, I think I can manage," I
told him. I brought the dumbbells in through the back door. 'I'll have to
check the weight on these,' I thought, 'they seem lighter than the fifty
pounds they say they are.' Back out at the truck, I lifted the bench out of
the bed and carried it in. 'I'll get this reupholstered and the 'casual
customer's' as I called them, can use this,' I thought. 'Casual customers' are
ones who drop in for a month or two and then disappear again.

I did some shopping and then drove home. I carried the bags into the kitchen.
'I'm sure not getting as much as I use to,' I thought as I sat the bags on the
counter next to the 'Femex' box. I put the groceries away and looked at the
box. 'Where should I put you,' I thought. I wound up putting it on the
bookshelf in my office and returned to the kitchen to start dinner. The bottle
of pills was there and I glanced at it as I began to boil some chicken. I
still ate as if I was competing. 'Old habits die hard,' I thought. I took
another pill.

After dinner and watching a little television, I headed for bed. I didn't have
a client to see tonight, so I wanted to get a good night's sleep.

The next morning, I woke and began my morning ritual of showering and going to
the gym to unlock the door. Jerry came at nine o'clock. This left me time to
go over receipts and do some paperwork. I had a girl, Jane, who sold posing
suits, custom swimwear and some costumes for the showgirls that came to the
gym. I needed to process her receipts this morning.

I glanced at myself in the mirror and then headed for the shower. 'Wait, what
was that,' I thought, turning for the mirror once more. I stood up straight
and looked. 'Definition,' I thought, 'I've got a little definition to my
abdominals. Huh!' After showering and having a bowl of oatmeal, I dressed and
put my cross trainers on. 'A little snug,' I thought, 'I wonder if my feet are
swollen.' Before heading out the door, I took another 'Femex' capsule.

At the gym I unlocked the place and began the mundane task of going through
the paperwork. By nine o'clock, I was done. There were already a few clients
working out. Jerry came in at nine sharp. "Good morning," he said. "Hey,
Jerry, how are you doing?" I asked. He sat his coffee on the counter and
looked at me. "What is it with you, are you training for a contest," he asked,
"I thought you had hung up the posing suit." "What are you talking about?" I
asked. "You look leaner, is all," Jerry said, "I thought you were dieting for
a contest." "No, no contests," I said.

I walked to the shoe store a block away. I found a new pair of cross trainers.
I wear a size 7 and tried them on. 'Snug,' I thought. I tried a size 8, and
walked a few feet in them. 'Much better,' I thought, keeping them on. 'Maybe I
should get a pair of pumps in an eight,' I thought, and found the perfect
pair. I paid and went back to the gym. By this time, Jane was there.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," I told Jane, "I need a new bathing suit,
can you fit me in?" She smiled, "When have I ever refused," and we both
laughed. We went into the women's locker room and she took some measurements.
She jotted them in her book she kept on her clients. "Looks like you've been
working out," Jane told me, "Your chest had gotten bigger, but your cup size
has remained the same." 'Odd,' I thought, 'I really haven't been working out.'
"And not just that, but your hips have actually gotten smaller," Jane said, "I
wish mine would." I told her the material I wanted and left.

Home, I walked through the kitchen, stopping only to wash down another 'Femex'
capsule. I got undressed and stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom. I
inhaled and studied my chest. 'It does look bigger,' I thought as I teased my
nipples with my fingertips. They responded and I took the hard balls between
my thumbs and forefingers and squeezed. It was like squeezing ball bearings.
'Hard, very hard,' I thought. I stood looking at myself for several more
minutes and then did a double bicep pose. Since I hadn't been training, I
didn't expect much, but to my surprise, my biceps exploded. 'I look bigger
than I ever had,' I thought.

I padded to the backyard. 'It's sunny and warm, perfect for getting a little
sun,' I thought. My backyard is enclosed and private, so I generally lay on a
chaise by the pool without a bathing suit. I find tan lines distracting. I
must have dozed off because it was nearly three o'clock when I woke. 'I need
to shower and stop back at the gym,' I thought. I took a long hot shower,
liberally applying the vanilla scented body wash. I needed to get ready for my
client tonight. I applied eye shadow, eye liner, lip gloss and vanilla scented
aloe. My skin glistened.

Tonight's client was a visitor to Vegas. His name was Steve. What I knew about
Steve is that he was from Kansas and he wanted to be dominated. Steve was
aware of what I provided and what I charged; he had provided his credit card
when he set up the appointment. I slipped on a black spandex thong and my
short black leather skirt. I tied a black string bikini top on and slipped on
a sleeveless leather vest. Steve was staying at New York, New York in room
1249. I took one last look at myself in my mirror, picked my keys off the
kitchen counter and stopped long enough to take another 'Femex' capsule.

I took the elevator to the twelfth floor. I have a 'go bag' with a few sex
toys in it that I take to my appointments. Carrying my tote, I knocked and
Steve let me in. Steve was a middle aged business man with thinning hair and
pale complexion. He was short, well, 'Shorter than me,' I thought as I stepped
into his room, but I was wearing three-inch heels.

"Hello, Steve," I said, "I'm Gina, but I want you to call me Mistress Gina, do
you understand?" "Yes," he said nervously. I smiled and chuckled. "There's no
reason to be nervous, baby," I told him, putting a hand on his chest. I could
feel his heart racing. The feeling of power is a rush for me, a turn on. I
pushed him further into the room.

"Do you like what you see, baby?" I asked. He nodded and I took his chin in
the crook of my hand and asked again, "I asked if you liked what you see?"
"Y-yes, Mistress Gina," he said trying to pull free. I laughed deeply and
said, "The more you struggle, the more it will hurt," and let go of his chin.

"Y-you're taller than I thought," Steve said softly. I stepped out of my heels
but I was still a couple of inches taller than him. "Is that going to be a
problem, baby?" I asked, thinking, 'I must have misjudged this guy's height'.
"N-no, Mistress Gina," he said. "But you feel intimidated, don't you?" I
asked. He nodded and then added, "Yes, a little, mistress." I chuckled and
said, "Good, because you have to keep in mind that I can hurt you, Steve, for
the next hour and a half, I own you." He nodded and said, softly, "Yes,
mistress," no doubt wondering if he made a mistake.

"Would you like to see more, Steve?" I asked. He nodded but quickly added,
"Yes, Mistress Gina," more confident. I like that. I removed my leather vest
and tossed it on a chair by the desk. Steve's breath caught as he saw my
chest, his eyes riveted to my breasts. 'Not my best feature, Stevie,' I
thought, 'but certainly impressive.' I ripped his button shirt open, sending
buttons to the floor. His chest was nearly hairless and he had a bit of a
potbelly. 'You really need to take better care of yourself,' I thought.

"Take your pants off, Stevie," I told him. He nodded and said, "Yes,
mistress," this time a little unsure of what was coming. I reached behind me
and unzipped my leather skirt and stepped out of it. I folded it once and
placed it atop my vest. "Do you like muscular women, Steve?" I asked placing
my hands on my hips as he stepped from his trousers. "Y-yes, mistress," he
stammered. I laughed and said, "I thought so. What would you like me to do,
Steve, tell Mistress Gina what you want her to do."

I glanced down at his erection beneath his boxer shorts. 'Not very impressive,
Steve,' I thought, 'maybe six inches at best.' "I want to feel your muscles,
mistress," he said almost shyly, "I want to feel your hardness." I chuckled.
"Of course you do, baby." I put one foot in front of the other and tightened
my abs. "Feel those," I said. He hesitantly touched my eight-pack abdominals.
'Damn,' I thought, 'I'm lean and my abs are so defined, it's as if I've been
training for a competition again.' "So hard," he muttered, his fingers tracing
my muscles.

I flexed my right bicep and it exploded. "What do you think of that, little
man?" I asked. He opened his mouth as if to answer but no words came out. He
put both hands on my bicep. "That's amazing," he said softly. I chuckled and
pumped my other arm. "Oh," he said, and licked his lips. "Kiss them, Steve,
you want to make love to my muscles, don't you?" He nodded and said, "Yes,
mistress," almost in a whisper. He kissed my bicep.

I grabbed the waistband of his boxer shorts and ripped them down the front.
His erection sprang free and he took a step back. "Don't pull away from your
mistress," I told him, "Get back here," and I pointed to a place on the carpet
in front of me. He slowly moved in front of me. I seemed to tower over him. He
looked up at me, a tear forming in the corner of one eye. 'Poor weakling,' I
thought, but I had no sympathy for this man.

"Get on your knees," I said, sternly, placing my hands on my hips. He sank to
his knees in front of me. "Now worship my pussy, bitch," I said. His eyes tore
away from mine and he looked at my thong, inches from his face. He pulled the
elastic bands down my thighs and I could hear his breath catch once more. He
swallowed hard.

I looked down and could see my clitoris. It looked like the head of a small
penis, erect. I took it between my thumb and index finger and squeezed. 'I am
hard,' I thought, and slowly stroked myself. 'Hmm,' I thought, 'I need to
climax.' Releasing myself I grabbed the back of Steve's head and held him
against my pussy. "Suck me, bitch," I said, "Suck that cock."

Steve's hands were on my butt, squeezing, or trying to as I began to pump my
hips. "Hmm, that's it baby," I said as I felt the ecstasy of my approaching
orgasm. Steve was sucking on my clit, his tongue flicking my labia. I stopped,
tightening my muscles as I exploded a stream of cum filling the man's throat
and spilling onto the carpet below. I exhaled loudly, "Ahh," and my legs and
pelvis shuddered.

Laughing I pulled Steve's face from my pubis. A trickle of cum ran from his
mouth. "Hmm," I said, "That was fantastic. I haven't exploded like that in
years, baby." "Hmm," he said, still swallowing, "Good," he said. "Thank you,
Steve," I said picking my wet thong from the carpet.

Looking down once more at the man, still on his knees, I wadded up my thong
and placed it in his mouth. "Lie on the bed, bitch," I said, "I'm going to
screw you like you've never been screwed before." He obediently lay on the
bed, his erection pointed to the ceiling. I crawled between his legs and
straddled his hips and lowered myself onto his small shaft. 'He at least
deserves to have an orgasm,' I thought as I slowly began to take him inside
me.

Ten minutes later, Steve had climaxed and I was stepping from the bed. I put
my leather skirt back on and tied my bikini top. Steve was spent, his penis
flaccid, my wet thong still in his mouth. I slipped on my leather vest,
stepped into my heels and gathered my tote. "Did you enjoy yourself, baby," I
asked from the doorway. He nodded. I smiled and said, "Call me when you come
back to Vegas, you were magnificent." I opened the door and left.

'He wasn't magnificent,' I thought as I rode the elevator to the parking
garage, 'but you always have to leave the client thinking they were.' I walked
to where I had parked my truck. A man was between my truck and the car next to
me pissing on the wheel of the car.

"Hey, why don't you use the hotel's bathroom," I said, looking at him. He
stopped urinating and zipped up his pants. "This your car?" he asked, his
speech slurred. 'Damn drunk,' I thought, and then said, "My truck." He turned
and looked at it and said, "Oh, then it's no big deal." I hate drunks, so I
said, "It might be a big deal to the person who owns this car," and motioned
to the Mercedes next to me. He walked toward me.

"You some kind of hooker," he asked, stopping by my rearview mirror and
holding on to it for support. "No," I said, "Now let go of my mirror." He
turned to look at what he was holding on to and let go, falling against the
Mercedes. "You're pretty wasted," I said. He straightened up and said, "And
you're being a bitch, now excuse me," and tried to slide between the Mercedes
and me.

The man smelled of alcohol. He was a foot shorter than me and I grabbed him by
the throat and threw him to the back of the parking stalls, landing where he
had pissed. He landed with a thud, getting up on his elbow, one hand to his
throat. He didn't seem to notice or care that he was laying in his own piss.
"Why'd you do that?" he asked as I advanced on him. I stared down a him and
said, "I did that because you're weak; you're a poor excuse for a man and I'm
going to make you my bitch." He pointed at me and said, "You're the bitch,
lady," and began to get to his feet. I grabbed his hand and snapped his
finger. It was effortless. He screamed and I doubled my fist and hit him in
the mouth. His head snapped back, his mouth bloody and he collapsed in a heap.

'Bastard,' I thought and picked him up by the front of his shirt. Holding the
shirt, I stood him against the wall at the back of the parking stalls and hit
him in the ribs. I heard several break. I grabbed his crotch and squeezed,
crushing his penis and scrotum. When I released my grip a dark red stain
spread across his pants.

I tossed the man aside like a rag doll. He landed in back of the Mercedes, his
head bouncing off the concrete deck. 'I wish that would have lasted longer,' I
thought, still feeling an adrenaline rush, 'maybe I need to go home and take a
long shower.' I glanced back at the man. A trickle of blood ran from his mouth
and was pooling under his cheek. 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,' I
thought before getting in my truck and driving home.

I sat my keys on the kitchen counter, unscrewed the cap on the 'Femex' bottle
and shook one out in the palm of my hand. 'Maybe I should stop taking these,'
I thought, looking down at the small capsule. 'Nah,' I thought after a moment,
'I like the power and control. This is my little secret,' and washed the
capsule down with a glass of water.

That was three months ago, and I have tapered off taking the 'Femex' capsules.
I'm six-foot three-inches tall now, an amazing ten inches taller than when I
started this journey. I weigh three hundred pounds of solid muscle. My biceps
and calves are nineteen inches and my thighs are thirty inches. To say I
attract attention when I go to the gym or to the market would be an
understatement. I have men and women stop me on the street and ask for an
autograph or a picture taken with me. I get more attention now than when I was
competing.

I still train several clients at the gym, Beth included, and have a following
for my dominatrix services, although most are satisfied just to pay for muscle
worship.

I never told Beth about the box of 'Femex' in her mother's garage. I still
have several bottles left, but as I said, I've tapered off taking them. Now I
follow the directions on the label. The only side effect is that I
occasionally have is the urge to dominate and destroy someone. When I give in
to those feelings, I drive until I find someone who will not be missed. I take
my time, being sure that I'm not seen. So far, I've been lucky. This has been
my secret.

If you have enjoyed reading, 'My Secret,' please let me know at
covert.1@hotmail.com

Thank you,

Muscle Fan