The Island (Part 1) The story of a castaway family, its growth and adventures, both physical and sexual. By Rampant Tiger The following story is based on a story by Jim Woodward, titled "Island", modified to be more realistic - but still a fantasy - and to suit my own ideas just a little bit better. The story of a castaway family, its growth and adventures, both physical and sexual. By Rampant Tiger. She awoke, and this is what she knew for certain. Her name was Alison, she was twenty-one years old, and she had been on a plane, heading for Japan, with her husband, Chris. He was thirty, a bit older than she, and a pro football star. But it was their honeymoon, and she was looking forward to the trip. She remembered getting on the plane, and holding hands with Chris; how good that had felt, as she looked down upon the emerald colored Pacific Ocean. Then she remembered the plane had suddenly lurched and before she knew what was happening, she was in the ocean treading water, screaming frantically for Chris. Then she saw him, floating unconscious, still in his life vest. She remembered how bruised and battered he'd looked, how she thought he might die. Most of all, she remembered the screams of the only surviviors she had seen, hundreds of yards from her, as the sharks milled around them, thrashing, but otherwise utterly silent. She saw a small group, desperate in their attempts to drive away the sharks, but failing hopelessly, and finally she saw the last of the group go under, their blood visible in the water. " Well", she said out loud and with a bitter little laugh," I guess I'm next." Then she saw a large trunk, evidently water tight, drifting towards her and Chris. " At least", she told the thin air, " I'll try." She pulled Chris over to the trunk and somehow, she was never sure how, managed to get him up on top of it, even though she was not a very strong woman. She remembered climbing out of the water and lying next to Chris. And that was the last clear memory she had. Waking, she looked around her, feeling sand on her face and tasting sand in her mouth. She spit several times and looked around for Chris. He was there, in a peaceful sleep beside her. Thank God, she thought. She looked around and saw that they were on a sloping beach. She shook out the cobwebs, trying to remember how they had gotten here, but she could not. She guessed that the current had beached them here. She mentally thanked God again that she and Chris were alive, and got up to see if Chris was all right. He was still unconscious. "I've got to get him to some shelter," she thought. Alison's most immediate problem was getting Chris in off the beach. He was over six feet four inches tall, and weighed well over two hundred pounds. Alison was about five feet four, and was just a hundred and twenty pounds. She wiped the sand off her hands, took his arms, and started to drag him, ever so slowly, into an expanse of jungle about a hundred yards from where they were on the beach. She managed to get him under some palm trees, but it had taken her almost an hour and she was exhausted. She covered Chris with some palm leaves and collapsed beside him, in as sound a sleep as she had ever known. It seemed as if she had just fallen asleep when she felt someone shaking her gently. she opened her eyes, and there was Chris, awake and alive, smiling down at her. She jumped to her feet and hugged him. He grimaced in agony. That was when she noticed his right arm was in a sling, and his right leg had a tourniquet below the knee. She looked at his face. He was as white as a sheet. " I know," Chris let out a long sigh, " I know I look bad, but I'm okay, really." He smiled, " How are you. No broken bones." He hugged her gently. " Looks like we caught a break. How did we end up here, anyway?" " Beats the hell out of me, " said Alison. Chris laughed hard, then became a mask of pain. Alison's face became serious, " How bad is it?" She tugged lightly at his sling encased arm. " The arm is broken, for sure," He gingerly took it out of the sling, she could see the bone protruding from his forearm; it had broken the skin, " The leg is even worse. My thigh is broken and I think I damaged my knee. I can't put any weight on it." He kissed her gently on the lips, " I'm so glad that you're not hurt. I thought that I had lost you when the plane went down, and when I woke up here, I didn't know if you had been hurt bad or not. I love you so much, " Chris hugged her even tighter, which proved to be the wrong thing to do; the pressure on his arm made him wince. " Well, now we've got to build a fire, and find some food." He turned toward the jungle. " No sense wasting any time, and you will have to do it by yourself. I just can't move." Chris knew Alison would have to do the job of gathering supplies, but it went against his instincts. He was worried that something might happen to her. Alison saw the look of concern on his face. " I'll be all right, I promise. I'll get some food and all the wood I can carry. You stay here and rest. If your not asleep when I get back, you'll be in big trouble." She said with a big smile. " Geez, nag, nag, nag," Chris clucked his tongue, then laughed, " Yes ma'am." He laid himself gently down. Alison headed into the jungle. Alison was amazed at the size of the jungle; she had never seen such a thick forest in her life. The advantage was that she found lots of fruit for them to eat; many bananas, coconuts, and various other tropical fruits. In one clearing, she saw a root sticking out of the ground; curiously, she went to see if it was what she thought it was. She dug it up, broke a section of the root off and tasted it. "It sure looks and tastes like ginseng, she thought. Her grandmother had told her stories about the amazing curative properties of ginseng. So she gathered some in her shirt and, along with the fruit, she made her way back to their camp. When she got there, she saw Chris curled up, asleep. She decided to hit the beach and get some driftwood for a fire, and see if there was anything to salvage on the beach. "Maybe," she thought, "the trunk we floated on is down there, somewhere. She returned about an hour later, dragging a ten gallon iron pot. Chris, who was awake, saw her struggling, but there was no way to help her. Alison managed to get it into camp, then looked around. She saw that he had managed, somehow to get a fire going. " Looks like someone has been busy," She hugged and kissed him. Then she went over to where the pot was and dragged it over by the fire. What about some food, I'm starving, " He rolled his eyes melodramatically. " Okay, here," She went overto her store and tossed him some bannanas. He caught them and began eating one greedily. " And I have a surprise. Tonight we are going to have wild ginseng soup." She smiled. " Where did you find that?, " Chris exclaimed when she showed the roots to him. He, too, had heard about ginseng. it was supposed to make a delicious soup. " In a clearing in the jungle. I'll go get some water from a stream I found and I'll make us some soup." In a little under a hour, the ginseng soup sat boiling over the fire. They used a hollowed-out coconut shell as bowls. It would feel good to have something hot in their stomachs after what had seemed an eternity of going without. It smelled wonderful, and they tasted the soup with great anticipation. "Ugh!" cried Chris, "That's horrible!" I know ginseng and that's not it! It's much stronger than anything I've ever tasted." He spit out the mouthful he had taken and grabbed a cup of water to rinse the taste from his mouth. "How can you say that, Chris! It tastes just wonderful, and it makes you feel alive and full of energy again. Give me yours and I'll drink that, too." And she did. " That was good," Alison tossed the coconut shell casually aside and let out a long, sustained belch. Chris just laughed, and Alison joined in. After the laughter had subsided, Chris took her hand with his good arm. " Now comes the bad part." " What bad part, " She couldn't understand what he meant, but the serious look on his face made her worried. " You have to help me set my arm, or it will be useless. I feel better since I've gotten some food into me, so there is no point in putting this off. You're going to have to help me set it." " I don't know anything about setting broken bones." Her eyes were almost pleading, " Can't we do it later, when you've had more rest?" His eyes became hard, " No, let's get it over with. I've studied first aid, so I'll talk you through it. Now, take my arm." She gently took his arm, " Now, feel for the bone, feel it sticking up?" She said she did, " Now rotate the arm slightly and pop it down quickly," He was sweating and had turned deathly pale. Alsion closed her eyes and popped the bone back into place. She had been prepared for his scream but all the same, she started crying as he screamed in agony. Quickly, she re-wrapped the arm. " About to pass out..." He muttered and slowly he laid back, unconscious. She thought maybe she hadn't set the bone correctly, but she saw that his sleep was a peaceful one, so she put a new splint on his leg, reaching from his hip to his foot, and then she covered him, and fell asleep with her arms around him, craddling him to her gently. They slept for nearly eighteen hours. When Alison woke up, she felt better than she had ever felt before. "It must be the soup that's making me feel this good." she thought, " I must try to get Chris to drink it, even if he can't stand the taste." But try as she would, there was no way Chris would let a drop of that soup pass his lips. Over the next few weeks, under Chris' direction, Alison began to build a crude hut. At first, things went slowly, between the care she had to give Chris, whose broken arm and leg made him useless for anything other than giving instructions, and because the physical labour involved in finding suitable material for building, and hauling it back to the campsite, was just plain exhausting. She was not used to heavy physical work. She would search through the jungle for fallen logs, and drag them home. And then she had to lever them upright and tie them in place with the rope-like vines she had to tear from their jungle moorings by sheer strength. At the end of each day she would sink to the ground in a complete state of collapse, but she still had more to do! Both she and Chris had to be fed. It wasn't too hard to feed Chris - there was plenty of fruit and nuts to be had just for the picking - but Alison insisted on preparing and eating a large bowl of the super-ginseng (as they now referred to it) soup. She felt it made her sleep soundly and wake up - no matter how tired she was at night - feeling like a million and just raring to go back to work. It was during this time that Chris began to notice some changes in his wife. Her khaki pants, and her white blouse, which were the only clothes she had escaped with from the airplane crash, had once been very baggy and loose fitting. They now clung to the curves of her body like a second skin. She was gaining muscle; her arms were sinewy and seemed to be getting bigger every day. By three weeks or so, she had split her khaki pants at the seams, the material around her thighs and calves simply ripping from the stress of her now bulging leg muscles. He sometimes stared at her as she bathed in a small, isolated lagoon near their campsite. Her thighs had grown larger and were now the size of medium sized tree trunks, rippling with muscle every time she moved them. Her calves resembled over-sized bulging hearts. And Alison's shoulders now looked wide enough for him sit on. Her biceps had developed to the size of softballs, and looked extremely hard. "Well," he thought, "she has been working hard, it was only logical that her body would respond this way." But he was even more amazed when she rose from the lagoon, strode ashore, and pulled on her now seam-split pants and struggled into her once-loose blouse. The seams were split wide open at the back, the front came nowhere near closing (she just tucked it into the top of her pants), and the short sleeves hung in tatters where her bulging biceps had ripped them apart. Alison, like Chris, had also noticed that she was growing more muscular and becoming stronger and stronger everyday, or so it seemed to her. She had more energy now than she knew what to do with. Once difficult tasks, such as hauling and erecting logs for their hut, were now quite easy. Instead of dragging the logs she found, she now realized that she just shouldered them and carried them back, and then raised them into place with no effort at all. Now, coming from the warm waters of the lagoon, with Chris staring at her, she suddenly realized that some very peculiar things were happening to her body. And she liked it! Walking up to Chris, she grinned at him, and stood in the warm sand and started to pull on her pants and blouse. Her pants were now split along the seams, and her blouse, her once-loose blouse, was skin-tight and bursting at the seams as well. She just hadn't realized the extent of the growth of her muscles until she saw Chris staring, open-mouthed, at her new physique. "Well" she thought, "In for a penny - in for a pound!" and she stood in the warm sand in front of Chris and flexed her powerful biceps. Each was as large as a softball and hard as a rock. Her body had virtually blossomed with muscle and curves and was rock hard. Her chest, which had been rather small, was now large and muscular, and her breasts were standing upright and firm, like two half grapefruits on a solid wall. But her blouse just couldn't stand the pressure any longer and fell apart like a burst balloon. The back seams split, the front panel just sat there, exposing her round, hard breasts, and the sleeves ripped into rags around her now massive biceps. Alison laughed and flexed her legs, and now it was time for her pants to go the way of her blouse. The thighs expanded and split the seams, the calves rippled and grew and split the legs, and the hard mounds of muscle on her abdomen just split the waistband apart, and her pants fell to the ground, to be joined immediately by the rags of the blouse. Alison was now naked in front of her husband, and he just stood there, against the palm tree, absolutely thunderstruck. "Christ, Alison, what's happened to you. You've grown about six inches and you've put on at least fifty pounds of solid, rock-hard muscle. And I think you've gotten just as strong as you look. I've seen you carry those logs over one shoulder that you used to have trouble just dragging into the camp here. I didn't think much about it at the time because I thought they were smaller logs, but I'm looking at them now and I see they're as big and even bigger than the one's you used to have so much trouble dragging here. And you've been lifting them upright into place with no effort at all. How did you get so strong, and just how strong are you?" "I don't know, Chris. It's all happened so gradually that I hadn't really noticed until I saw you staring at me as I came out of the water. Then it struck me too. I've really developed fantastic muscles, I feel great, and everything I do now seems so easy. But I hadn't noticed that I was actually growing taller. Do you really think I have?" "Sure, I do. If I could stand up, we could measure you against me. I'm about six-four, and you're about five-four, exactly a foot shorter than me. At least you were the last time I held you in my arms. I had to lift you off the ground to kiss you on your forehead. Remember? I'd like to see what you are now, but I just can't stand up." Alison looked at her husband lying there, on the ground, with his back against the trunk of the palm tree, and she smiled at him. "I think maybe we can do something about that." she said, "but first I have to do something about the way I'm dressed! I'm stark naked and I've just ruined every stitch of clothing I possess. Wait a minute and I'll rig something up. Something brief, I think, so you won't forget what I look like." She trotted into the jungle a few paces and came back with a length of the vine she had been using to fasten the logs together for their hut. She tied that around her waist, and picked up her discarded torn pants. She selected a good length of fairly solid fabric and tied one end of it to the vine behind her back and the other end to the vine in front of her. It made a sturdy, skimpy loin-cloth that concealed almost nothing but her most private parts, and revealed every detail of her muscular rock-hard physique. "The advantage of this" she grinned "is that, if I am growing, it will continue to fit me perfectly." Chris groaned. "It sure will, and if you keep on looking like that, your muscles aren't the only thing around here that's going to grow!" And they both broke down in hilarious laughter. "Maybe we can check out our heights now. Just relax and I'll see if I can prop you up against this tree. Shout if I hurt your arm or your leg." and Alison leaned over and gently placed her hands under Chris' good leg and good arm and lifted him into the air - all two hundred and more pounds of him - and softly put him down beside the tree, so he could support his weight on his good leg and still reach his full height. And Alison didn't even strain! "There. That was easy." said Alison. Chris said, "Holy Jeez! Wow! You ARE strong!" "Yeah, but let's see if I'm taller, like you think I am." And Alison stood face to face with Chris, on level ground, and her eyes looked straight ahead at Chris' chin. "Yes. You're right. I must have grown 7 or 8 inches. What can be doing this. I can understand getting stronger - I've worked like a dog and that's something I've never done before, although now I love doing it - but taller? It must be something to do with the island! It has to be. Anyway, now that we know how I've grown, let's see if you've grown too." And Alison, just as carefully as before, put her arms around Chris, lifted him gently, and carried him into their hut. She laid him on their couch and ran her fingers over his chest, then over his belly, then over his cock and, sure enough, he had grown too. And gotten as rock-hard as Alison. So now, for the first time on the island, Chris and Alison made love! Somehow, Chris' useless arm and useless leg didn't bother them a bit, but when they were done, it was only Alison that remained rock-hard. ****************** Next morning, Alison went off again into the jungle. Not for logs or building material this time - the hut was just about complete - but to re- stock their larder. Since Chris was still sleeping like a log - an exhausted log! - Alison was not in a hurry, so she explored further afield than she had gone before. The jungle was as thick and gloomy as ever, but new sounds came to her ears. The whistling and carolling and piping of birds and small animals that she hadn't heard before, and the barking of wild dogs and the responding screams of wild cats all told her there was as yet undiscovered life on the island - and some of it sounded pretty big and fearsome. In particular, a throaty growl from not too far away sounded like real trouble. And when that growl was followed by a heavy thrashing through the underbrush, coming straight in her direction, Alison took the path of discretion and climbed the nearest tree. Just in time, too, for as she reached a sturdy branch and swung onto it, a huge boar pounded past, obviously looking for the intruder in its empire. For the boar looked like the king of the jungle on this island - and there were no challengers. The boar, armed with mean- looking tusks and fearsome teeth in its slobbering jaws, was about five feet long and must have weighed over eight hundred pounds. A fearsome beast, indeed! After that encounter - and a reasonable time to let the boar get well away! - Alison retreated to the safety of the familiar areas she knew. With Chris depending on her, this was no time to get trampled by a boar. But a thought still remained in Alison's mind. If there had to be a fight to defend their home, -and it could well be a fight to the death! - the only person capable of that fight was Alison herself. Just how capable was she? She had better find out, and eliminate any weaknesses she uncovered. First, she examined her physique as it was at the moment. It was now a powerful physique indeed, but she felt it could be better. Especially since she had not really deliberately stressed it to the maximum, to the point of failure, to see what it could achieve. So, she decided to lay out a schedule of training that would do just that, and she did. When she told Chris of her plan, he thoroughly approved, but when she told him the details of her schedule, he almost went through the roof. "Alison! Are you crazy? This is a schedule that would break the back of a champion male decathlete and a world champion weightlifter and a swimming champion and a professional wrestler - each in his own field. And you want to do it all? You must be mad! How can you possibly do this? And remember, you still have to feed us." Alison grinned. "Chris, it's just a schedule. If I find it's more than I can handle, I'll cut it back. No problem." With that Chris agreed, reluct- antly, shaking his head - and he was a pro athlete himself. Alison started on her program. First, she would jog around the island, (They knew it was an island, having now remembered seeing it from the air just before the crash) then she would swim about a mile along the beach, and then climb two of the nearby tall palms, before lifting some near-by football- size rocks until she was utterly exhausted. Seemed like a good program. Neither of them could remember much about the size of the island, but they figured it had to be a mile or so wide and a couple of miles long to support the wildlife Alison had seen. So early, again before Chris was awake, Alison started her run around the island. And ran and ran and ran - until the beach ended at a high rock cliff. "OK!" thought Alison, "I'll just swim around this cliff, and continue on at the other side." Into the water she went, and she swam and she swam and she swam. At last, the cliff ended, the beach began, and Alison again began to run - and run and run until she came to the cliff again on the other side of the island. More and more swimming, and then more beach and more and more running. At long, long last, the hut appeared on the shoreline and Alison was home. As she sank, exhausted, to the ground at her husband's feet, she groaned, "Whew! This is an island - but what an island! It's just a rough guess, but I think the island is rectangular, about ten miles long and about five miles wide, and the rock plateau must be three miles wide all across the island. And not a human habitation anywhere. I figure I've run over twenty-five miles and swum at least six. I think that's enough for today. Tomorrow, I'll see how I feel before I try that again, but I will have something to eat before I start." Chris sympathized with her - and refrained from saying, "I told you so", but he thought it! Alison had been away over seven hours. She was tired and hungry, and she really needed the large bowl of super-ginseng soup and the fruit and nuts that Chris plied her with. That, and the long, long sleep she soon fell into while Chris rubbed her weary feet. The next morning, Alison awoke expecting to feel stiff and sore and bone- tired but, surprisingly, she felt just great. Not a bit sore, not at all tired, and raring to go for broke again. "Amazing!" she thought, "but this time, I'll eat first and see if that helps. Of course, now I know the route, and that will help, too." So, off again went Alison. The same route, the same sandy beach, the same cliff to swim around - twice - and back to the hut in the jungle, and this time Alison was not the least bit tired. And, by Chris'watch, she made the trip in less than five hours. They both were astounded. "Great! So now I'll start on the next item on the program." And she did. Several tall palm trees reached above the others in the jungle. They leaned toward each other so that someone, with a prodigious leap, could make it from one tree to another. Alison had decided to climb one tree, leap the gap, and descend another. It seemed to be a challenge, and the first time Alison tried it, it certainly was. But not enough for her after that. So, what Alison did was to climb one tree, pass a vine around one of the others, and then pull them together. Then she dropped a vine down between them and climbed the vine. This was more difficult - she could almost run up the trunks of the trees - and more of a test of strength. At least, she thought so. What Chris thought wasn't quite so clear. He just watched in amazement when Alison made the preparations and then went through a trial run. He just couldn't believe what his wife was doing! Next morning, the same thing. Around the island, up the vine, down the tree and a check on the time it all took - four hours! Utterly fucking fantastic! Next morning, more mods. On each wrist and ankle, Alison tied a 10-pound rock. At the foot of the climbing vine, Alison slung a hundred pound rock to go around her waist as she climbed. This time, the whole shebang took three hours! This was getting ridiculous! Fifty-pound wrist and ankle weights, a hundred and fifty-pound log weighted with two hundred-pound rocks, to be squeezed between her thighs as she climbed, using only her arms, up the vine to the top of the trees and the time was now stabilized at three hours. So that now just took care of the morning. What about the afternoon? Alison decided the mornings for aerobics - the afternoons for just free weights. But what to use for weights? Then she remembered seeing, not far from the beach, a rockfall under the rock cliffs. Those rocks were angular and broken, and could be broken again into a fairly useable set of weights - no handles, of course, but she could make do. So the afternoon program now involved Alison running - all her running was now done at top speed, through the deep sand on the beach - about four miles to the rockfall, selecting suitable stones, weighing about a thousand pounds each load, and jogging back with the stones on her back. Four loads in the afternoon took care of the weights, so the next afternoon could be spent in a regulated fashion using calib- rated(?) weights - just like the weight-rooms Chris had used, almost. Of course, Chris had never, ever, used weight like Alison did. Curls - 400 pounds - with each hand! Overhead jerks - 1000 pounds! Bench press - 1200 pounds! Dead lift - 1800 pounds! Squat - 1800 pounds! Whatever it was that was doing it, Alison was now an amazing, massive, muscular mastadon, with slabs of muscle from head to toe, striated, variated, and hard as the rock she used for weights - harder! Much harder! When Alison wanted a hundred-pound weight for some reason, she just balanced a two-hund- red-pound weight on the slab of muscle covering her thigh-bone, and smashed the rock that was her forearm down onto it. The two-hundred-pound weight just didn't stand a chance - it simply split in two! But Alison was not just getting stronger - not by a long shot! She was also getting bigger - and fast! Now, three weeks after she first propped Chris up against a tree to measure their heights, she did it again. This time, the result was even more amazing. Chris stood as tall as he could, and he found he was looking his wife, his once-diminutive wife, in the eyes, not downward, not straight across, but upwards into her grinning blue orbs. Alison had grown another six inches in height! She was now about six feet six. But that was a mere incidental. It was the way she had grown outward that almost made Chris throw up right onto the ground - with envy! Starting with Alison's neck, now a column of muscle eighteen inches around, her shoulders spread almos twice as far as his. Her delts were mountains of solid, rock-hard muscle, with striations deep enough to bury a pencil in. Standing there, facing her husband, she grinned and flexed her muscles in his face. Her biceps rose - no longer like baseballs, but like volleyballs, above her steel triceps - and another huge knob of muscle rose above them, like a great rock balanced on another. Her biceps, flexed and hard, measured twenty-two inches around. Her lats extended like wings from the slabs of muscle across her chest, from where striations extended into the two half grapefruit, round and hard, from which her nipples projected. Her chest was over fifty inches around. From Alison's massive chest, steel-hard abs covered by narrowing slabs of muscle descended past her narrow waist to the top of the skimpy loin-cloth covering the lips of her labia - and not much more! Her hips were small, providing a base for her two rock-hard, striated gluteal muscles that matched the massive, striated muscles on her thirty-two inch thighs. The diamond- like calves - in shape and hardness - were supported by the most muscular feet Chris had ever seen. The sum total of the massive, muscular, magnificent power-packed animal that his wife, standing almost naked in front of him, had become, struck him like a sledgehammer between his eyes, and his cock arose, and swelled, and he came in a massive wave of unrequited lust that completely overwhelmed him and left him as weak as a kitten in the magnificent arms of his wife and lover - and protector and provider - and as she drew him closer, he came again! *************** Chris had made a remarkable recovery from his arm and leg injuries. He had dropped the splint and sling from his arm some time ago, and now he threw aside the splint on his leg. Neither were at all painful now, but he had not yet recovered his full strength. But it was coming. There was very little that he couldn't do for himself and, to give Alison as much time as possible with her exercise program, he had taken over the food foraging and the cooking. And this was getting to be almost a full-time job! Alison's growth demanded the support of a great deal of food, and it kept Chris very busy supplying it, even if it was all fruit and nuts, with no meat to cook. Both of them were beginning to crave the taste of meat in their diets. Alison now weighed two hundred fifty pounds, with not an ounce of fat any- where on her body. Try as he might, Chris couldn't find a spot where he could pinch even the slightest piece of her skin between his strong fingers. She was like a marble statue of the old Greek gods come to life, but without getting a bit softer. Even her face, soft and smooth as it had been, was now a mask of muscle and, when she kissed Chris on the lips, she had to be very careful not to smash his teeth into his gums. But he still ached for the feel of her body against his, and just couldn't get enough of the tre- mendous feeling of power she emitted as he lay helpless in her arms. Now that Chris was no longer encumbered by bandages on his arm and his leg, the two castaways made mad and glorious love - in a sort of a way! It was, after all, their honeymoon, and they HAD missed a great deal of loving while Chris recovered from his injuries. Alison had changed physically, unbelievably, fantastically, and powerfully. She had also become aware of other changes in her body. While she had never been a bashful lover, her pre-marital screwing with Chris had been normal, hot, and frequent, and had been initiated by whichever one of them was feeling particularly horny at the moment. In this area, they had both held their own, but Chris, as the big, muscular male was always the dominant one in their love-making. Now, one of those other changes Alison felt was a tremendous increase in her sexual needs. In short, she was always as horny as a bull in rut. And there was only Chris to satisfy that gigantic apetite! He tried! God knows, he tried! But there just wasn't enough of him. A reg- iment of sex-starved Zulus wouldn't have been enough! The only way she could control her tremendous urges was to exercise herself to exhaustion - and that only led to further, more demanding needs in the future. But, still, after Chris was played out, that was all there was. And Chris was almost always played out, as he staggered about with a great grin on his face. After the evening meal was eaten, the two honeymooners would sit on the beach and discuss the events of the day. Then one of them would lie back in the arms of the other, and the love-making would start. Chris would soon plead, "Not tonight, dear. I've got a headache." and Alison would laugh an say, "Oh? Tough titties, darling. You are about to be screwed till your head falls off. And till you've been reamed from stern to stem. And till your tongue is stretched until you can lick your Adam's Apple. And till you lie on your back alone in the bed and just ejaculate like crazy whenever I say "CUM". And Alison meant every word of it. Male domination? Hah! Chris was really and truly screwed to death - and, almost, literally. One morning, after one of these sessions of sexual battery, Alison decided that she would no longer drink of the super-ginseng soup. Both of them were convinced that that soup, coupled with the environment on the island, was the reason for the massive physical development that had made Alison into a giant - a beautiful, muscular, athletic goddess, but still a giant. Not a problem if Chris had been able to match her musculature, but there was no way he could. He just couldn't drink the soup. The taste overcame him and, if he did manage to swallow a sip of it, his stomach would revolt violently and he would throw up. So Alison gave up the drink of the gods. Hopefully, she would retain the development she'd acquired - physically, athletically, and sexually - she loved them all! And, also hopefully, she would not develop any further. She was greatly content the way she was. And Chris could live with his sexual relationship with his domineering, masterful lover - or she would break his leg again! The time on the island went by swiftly. Alison continued with her exercise program, Chris continued to mend, and to develop more muscle than he had ever had, as he explored the fascinating sights and flora and fauna in their remote paradise. Then one evening, as they discussed their plans for the next day, Chris said that he really would like to see more of the island. He'd never been even as far as the rock plateau that Alison had told him of, and her story of the wild boar limited the range of his exploration of the jungle. "You would? Well, maybe we can work something out." Alison thought a while, then said, "I've got it. You can come around with me. I'm carrying two hundred pounds of rock weights now, and you don't weigh much more than that, so I'll just rig up a harness and we'll be off bright and early in the morning. You'll have to get a good night's rest, though. The trip will be pretty exhausting for you. So, off to bed with you right now, and i'll work on the harness." She leaned over and picked up her husband from the sand and carried him into the hut. Holding him above the bed with one hand, she care- fully brushed the sand from his body with the other. Then she laid him down on the soft, leafy bed and kissed him gently on the lips. Then, with an evil glint in her eye, she let her lips slide over his penis and, as it rose to its master's touch, she lowered her mouth till it engulfed a now-engorged, rock-hard cock, and swallowed a little and the cock slid down into the warm, creamy tunnel of her throat. Her victim groaned, and tried to move, but hard hands kept him immobile on the bed, and a subtle manipulation of the muscles in his master's throat and mouth brought forth a stream of cream from Chris'cock, and a scream of agony, mixed with sheer pleasure, from his bursting lungs. He collapsed, in agony and ecstacy, on the bed, and Alison, grinning broadly, kissed him again on the lips. "Now, you'll be able to relax and get a good night's sleep." Chris just lay there, exhausted. He would most certainly sleep! And Alison? Well, for a twenty- one year old girl, she certainly had a very sadistic streak in her make-up. A VERY sadistic streak. Preparing the harness for Chris' expedition took only a few minutes. It consisted of a loop of vine on the outside of each of her legs, suspended from a vine around her waist. A pad of vines, to go behind Chris' back was looped to a pad that would rest on Alison's forehead, and the job was done. Chris' feet would rest in the stirrups, his weight would rest on Alison's hips, and his back would be supported, leaving his hands free. Next morning, after breakfast, Chris tried out the harness. Apart from some minor adjustment of the stirrup length, it suited perfectly. Chris swung into position on Alison's back and was very comfortable indeed. His weight was well distributed and balanced and in no way interfered with Alison's movements. In fact, although Chris was a little heavier than the the weights he replaced, the difference was insignificant and the better distribution would make the trip easier for Alison. "Good!" she said, "We're all set. Just remember, I'll be running hard and fast, so I won't be able to talk. Try not to move around too much. Shout, if anything goes wrong. And we're off! " And so they were! Alison had said she'd be running fast and hard, so Chris expected to be jostled all over his new steed. Surprisingly, he wasn't. The steel springs in Alison's powerfully-muscled legs, bouncing through the deep sand of the long beach, absorbed just about all of the shock, and Chris was able to move his head from side to side to have a good look at the unfamiliar territory they were passing through. The only thing spoiling his view was the rush of wind through his hair and across his eyes. He was utterly amazed at the speed Alison was travelling at. And then he realized, "Gee! She said she was running about twenty-five miles and swimming six in three hours. Hell, that works out to twenty-five consecutive 5-minute miles. One five- minute mile is all most professional athletes can hope to manage, and Alison is doing twenty-five! And she's doing it with a two-hundred-and-thirty pound man on her back, through deep sand. Bloody, fucking, fantastic! And, in between, she has to swim six miles in less than an hour! Christ!" So Chris settled down to enjoy the fantastic voyage, with as little motion as possible, on the back of his amazing wife. He did, however, take time to run his hands over the massive musculature exposed on her back and shoulders and chest, and around her magnificent, rock-hard biceps as they pumped with the strength of her stride. "God! Now I have a tremendous hard-on. I hope that doesn't add much to my weight." In almost no time at all, the cliffs of the rock plateau loomed up ahead of them. With hardly a change in momentum, Alison plunged into the open sea. Her mighty shoulders and arms pulled her forward at a steady rhythmic pace in a powerful Australian crawl, as her massive body was driven from the rear by the strong churning of her muscular legs in a flutter kick that made the seas behind her boil. Chris hung on for dear life as the body under him twisted and flexed and rolled between the waves of the choppy water. It was like hanging onto the tow-rope behind a speeding motor-boat when the water- skis had long gone. By the time the shoreline on the far side of the cliff came into view, Chris had almost drowned. He looked and felt like a drowned rat. He coughed and he spluttered, and he threw up gallons of water, but Alison didn't pause or break her stride for a second. She broke through the surf onto the beach and drove for the end of the island. The beach, at the foot of the rocky cliff, was quite different to the rest of the island shore- line. The scree from the cliff had washed, over the years, along a couple of miles of the coast and the shelving shore was a solid base of rocks. Large and small, worn smooth or sharply new, the rocky floor was a dangerous surface for a man to walk across, watching every step, at risk of turning an ankle or slicing open a foot. And over this treacherous surface, Alison ran like the wind, not veering to avoid the sharpness, not leaping to miss the boulders and, especially, not slowing her frenetic pace. A girl weighing two fifty, carrying a two hundred pound man on her back, risked life and limb for the sheer pleasure of it, and screamed with joy at the pain in her feet. Chris did not see any of the scenery here - he kept his eyes tightly shut and prayed for the ordeal to come to an end. Come to an end, it did - finally, and Alison's pace picked up, impossible as it was for Chris to believe, as she ran once more over the sandy beach. His eyes opened again and he used a free hand to wipe the perspiration running off his forehead and down his back and chest. Perspiration? From effort or from fear? Chris didn't know and he didn't care. He was just glad to be back on a smooth track, astride a mount that no longer bucked or twisted. With his eyes now open, Chris became aware that the terrain this side of the rock plateau was quite different from the area around their hut. Here, the trees were more widely separated and open savanahs could be seen throughout the land. Chris was sure he saw large deer-like animals grazing in the open meadows. But before he could be sure, the runners (runners?) were back at the cliff, and back into the sea. This time Chris was prepared, and he began to enjoy the coolness and smooth feel of the water as it flowed by the powerful swimmer. On to the land again, and Chris settled down for the last mad, frantic dash that would bring them to their home - just ten miles ahead. Ten miles! Less than an hour at Alison's headlong pace! Chris couldn't wait to get home and onto a soft couch. He was utterly exhausted! His wife? He just couldn't believe her. She couldn't possibly be human, of human flesh and blood. He held on to her arms and marvelled as they flexed and rippled and pulsed with power. God! To be owned by this fantastic alien machine that looked so beautiful and felt so strong and could drive him out of his mind with desire and lust and could leave him so completely sexually replete that he never wanted to see her again - until he saw her again! He loved it! At last, they rounded the headland enclosing their bay, and there sat the hut thay used for home. Chris gave a cheer as they reached the doorway and was about to slip off to the oh-so-attractive ground when Alison said, "Whoa! We're not done yet! Stay where you are till we climb those trees. And, since we have an extra pair of hands, we can carry up some logs to start building another hut up there. Those two logs there will do, they'll just weigh about a hundred pounds each, and you can carry those under your arms" Chris groaned, but he didn't have a choice. He wasn't being asked - he was being told! Alison picked up the logs and tucked them under Chris' arms and started up the vine toward the distant treetops. She wasn't carrying her usual weights so her legs were free to help her climb, but Alisonn refused to take advantage of this and climbed in her usual fashion - hands only! It was just like an elevator ride for Chris. At the top, Alison stacked the logs in convenient branches while Chris looked down from a great height at the rerrain below, about seventy-five feet below. He'd never been up that high before, on the island, and he was entranced by the view. Alison finished stacking the logs, put one arm around Chris' waist, and leaped onto the vine. Using one hand to support Chris and the other to slow their precipitous drop to the ground, by squeezing the vine, Alison reached the ground in a second, literally. And then she looked at Chris' watch. "Great! Three hours on the nose! We'll do that again tomorrow. It will be good exercise for both of us." But Chris wasn't listening. As soon as Alison's arm was removed from his waist, he collapsed onto the ground. His legs were a quivering mass of jelly. Alison looked down at him and laughed. "OK. You'd better rest here for a couple of hours. I'll get lunch for us now and then I'll work out with the weights until suppertime. And after that I'll go for a swim. You should be okay by then." So Alison fixed lunch and then went over to the weight area. The weights - tons, literally, of them - were arranged in separate locations to facilitate the various exercises she'd do. No steel bars, but some were bound to hard- wood poles, some to short wooden handles, and some loose in webs, all sorted by size. Alison's program was simple but heavy - very heavy! Curls, to start, working quickly up to 300 lbs for each arm, then bent-over flies with the same weight; five hundred lbs each side for a one-hand press and the same each side for leg extensions, each exercise in sets of ten. Then double the weight for two-hand sets, a thousand lbs bench press, toe raises at the same weight, then squats of fifteen hundred lbs, and finishing off with dead lifts at the same unbelievable weight. When Alison finished, her body was bathed from head to foot in perspiration, and her incredible muscular structure was pumped and swollen and and hard as steel plate. The veins on her arms and legs and shoulders stood out like railway tracks and the striations on her traps and lats and chest and thighs were like deep cuts with a giant knife. Her back and her glutes were squirming ropes of muscle, and she rippled like a cage full of pythons every step she took. She was fantastic! And she did need a swim! The sea was calm when Alison ran down the beach and dove into the refreshing water. She felt great, the water was great, and the sky was a cloudless acquamarine. She headed for the horizon in her powerful, tireless, distance- eating crawl. When she finally lifted her head to take her bearings, after swimming steadily for an hour, the island had sunk below the horizon, and only the crest of the rock plateau was visible. The horizon was bare in every other direction and Alison was alone in an empty sea. God! How she loved the feeling of complete mastery of everything around her - on the land and in the sea! She dove and splashed and rocketed out of the water like a porpoise before she tired of her play and started back to the island. She landed on the shore by their hut in good time to eat the hearty, filling meal Chris had prepared. After that, they sat and talked and were fully content. ******************************************* Alison now was big - six feet six and two hundred and fifty lbs! - and had a fantastic muscular structure from her head to the the ends of her toes that bulged and rippled with every move she made, and looked and felt as hard as the rocks she lifted. Not an ounce of fat anywhere on her beautifully shaped and magnificently proportioned physique. But the weights she lifted were not in a normal relation to the size of her muscles, mighty though they were! Chris often watched her exercise and he just couldn't believe what he saw. It was not that he doubted the weight of the rocks that Alison lifted - he'd checked a few. When she finished a set of ten one-arm curls with a weight marked '300lbs', he'd gone over to the weight she'd just put down, and he couldn't, straining all his might, raise it off the ground in a dead-lift He knew world champion weightlifters, weighng over three hundred pounds in contest shape, could only manage to squat or deadlift just over 900 lbs. He knew world champion runners could only manage a four-minute mile over a pre- pared track once in a meet - and Alison ran twenty-five consecutive five- minute miles over a sandy (at best!) beach with a two hundred pound man on her back! Sprinters, at a world championship level, might achieve 100 yds in 10 secs., - just better than a three-minute mile - once or twice in their lifetimes. Chris didn't know what Alison could do ( he would find out later when he watched her run down deer! ), but he was sure it would be better than that! He now believed the super-ginseng soup had not only forced her growth - both upwards to six feet six, and outwards to a magnificently-muscled two hundred and fifty pounds - ( that growth had stopped when Alison stopped drinking bowls of the stuff) but had also made some structural change in the fibrous makeup of the very muscles themselves. They were strong beyond belief and absolutely tireless. Something was very different! But Chris loved the change and he knew damn well Alison did too! Chris continued to accompany(?) Alison on her morning runs and, as he got fitter himself and familiar with the more drastic elements, he loved it. The speed, the excitement, the new terrain, the continuing growth of their hut in the trees - all combined to make his mornings joyful. He still rested in the afternoons and they talked in the evenings - well, some evenings. It WAS their honeymoon! Some evenings, they didn't talk. It depended on Chris. His reputation, as a horny, rapacious, sex-crazed over-developed athlete, was known to Alison before they got married but, at twenty-one, she wasn't a virgin either. So she'd liked the idea of lots of exciting, experienced sex! So? She was a normal, healthy, female girl, for god's sake! But it hadn't worked out that way. Now Alison was dominant, and her sex drive had developed along with her muscles. Some nights, the need for sex, for relief from the burning, aching, sexual torment inside her, would drive her out of their bed and she would swim for hours in an attempt to relieve the pain. One night, she swam completely around the island and was still ready for her run the following morning. And the pain was still there! She just couldn't take it out on Chris! He tried. God knows, he tried! But there was no way he could satisfy his over-sexed wife. She would lie on the beach on her back and Chris would slide his body over hers, and as soon as he felt her muscles ripple and flex, no matter how inoluntary, his cock would rise into a massive erection, and the sexual athlete of old would go into action. He'd slide his massive erection into the completely relaxed cave of her dripping cunt, past the sucking lips of her labia, and into the smooth vaginal tunnel that encased him so eagerly. He'd pull back, just a little, and thrust in again - and then her resolve would break! She just couldn't stand it any more! Her mighty arms would wrap around her husband's chest, her legs would enclose his in a grip of steel, and her mouth of soft liquid steel would clamp over his. Her sexual instinct would take over and, from then on, Chris was merely a spectator in the game of love. An inter- ested spectator, a fully-involved and excited spectator, but still a helpless rider in the roller-coaster experience that would follow! First, Alison would flex her muscles, just a little, and her helpless lover was encased in a web of steel that held him like a lump of putty in a giant hand. Her tongue would force its way (force? - well) into his gasping mouth and play with his tongue until it withdrew, then slid down his now-open throat till he felt his stomach was being tickled to death. Her steel arms extended her hands to caress his hard and throbbing ass, and she slipped a finger into his tightly squeezed anus. It was dry and tight, but sliding her finger - no, her whole hand, into her now fully-secreting vagina (and giving her clit a loving tweak in the process) obtained more lubricating cream than she needed. Another finger up his ass, sliding easily this time, then an- other and another - and the muscular walls of Chris' rectum collapsed and Alison's hand plunged completely inside his ass. Chris' scream, of pain and pleasure, was muffled by the torturing tongue in his throat so his only apparent reaction was a mighty thrust of his grossly engorged erection into the muscled walls of her vaginal tunnel. And Alison reacted too. The muscles of her tight and creamy vagina contracted, then relaxed, and contracted and relaxed again and again, till Chris shot his wad, and grew another erection, and blew his top again and got another hard-on and another ejaculation, until he collapsed, unconscious, in his wife's arms. And Alison relaxed and, in relaxing, she too exploded in a tremendous orgasm that covered them both in a flood of cream. They were both complete, and well and truly screwed! Before Chris regained consciousness - and it wasn't just a mere faint! - Alison bathed them both in the sea, and then they both slept like logs until morning. Alison was up bright and early as usual, and took a quick swig of her super-ginseng soup before heading off for her trip around the island. Chris, on the other hand, decided to take a rain-check that morning and stay in bed a while. He was sound asleep before Alison was out of sight! Continued in ALISONB ****************************