The Stratford Academy Field House was jammed with excited, high paying spectators, eager to see what was about to begin. The noise level was rising fast, and there was a level of tension, of anticipation, that the headmaster had never felt before. He was nervous, very nervous. "We should never have allowed this-they've gone too far this time-something bad is going to happen tonight!"

It had all started six years ago. The mothers of the all-male school's wrestling team had formed a Booster Club to show support for their sons and raise money for the team, which, like most athletic programs at a private school, even an exclusive and expensive one like Stratford, was always strapped for cash. The women, all wealthy or at least very affluent, had brought in several hundred dollars with bake sales, raffles, and other traditional means. But these were not traditional women, at least not in attitudes. Some were full-time professionals, others stay-at-home moms, a few were trophy wives of rich husbands, the city's movers and shakers. All these very modern mothers were determined to raise more than just the small amounts generated so far, and they were looking for a truly different way to show their enthusiasm for their boys' grappling efforts.

Like most females of the upper classes, these fashionable women enjoyed spending lots of money on their appearance: clothes, shoes, jewelry, skin treatments, the latest designer haircuts, you name it. The twenty or so matrons were also fitness fanatics, spending hours each day at the health spa, working out in aerobics, lifting weights, and swimming. Several, like Paige Huntington, had even become interested in bodybuilding after divorces, and were training to become bodybuilders themselves, though none had yet competed in a contest. Almost all of the boys on the wrestling team were also bodybuilders, so popular had this activity become among young males. "So what if," thought Paige, "their mothers became bodybuilders too, to keep fit for themselves, and show support for their sons in a new, and (she admitted - smiling - to herself) very non-maternal way?" Paige suggested the idea to the club and, though a few women were doubtful, the majority agreed to give it a try. The boys themselves weren't enthusiastic, "Moms with muscles?" they frowned. But the women were undeterred, long used to dealing with the innate sexism of men, including their male offspring.

Within a few months many of the booster club ladies had achieved impressive results, shaping and toning their bodies and putting on significant amounts of muscle. They discovered that bodybuilding held a big surprise for them, an unexpected erotic appeal for these middle-aged females, with the prevalence of healthy, sexy bodies, rippling with musculature, in their clubs, and the secret physical thrill they received from certain weightlifting exercises. Paige and several others also put on considerable weight as they beefed up towards competitive standards. After a year the pretty, buxom, 38 year old brunette had gone from 150 to 175 pounds, and now packed an astonishing amount of curvacious, feminine muscle on her 5'8" frame. She and five other booster club members had started competing at bodybuilding contests, and each woman had been completely seduced by the intense sexual thrill of walking on-stage in a tiny bikini, her muscular body heavily oiled to a high gleam under the bright arena lights, and flexing her powerful muscles before an enthusiastic and clearly aroused audience of many hundreds of muscle voyeurs of both sexes. They gradually became totally obsessed with bodybuilding - physically, psychologically and (perhaps most of all) sensually - and their obsession was contagious. Eventually, all the team mothers had succumbed to the lures of this edgy sport and became dedicated bodybuilders, spending hundreds of hours a month pumping heavy iron and radically transforming their physiques.

It was soon after this that the Stratford wrestling team ran out of money. The bad economy had reduced enrollment and fund-raising at the pricey school, and the athletic budget was cut to the bone. If the team wanted to compete at all this year, it would have to pay for its own uniforms, equipment, travel and lodging expenses. The money required would be in the thousands, not hundreds, of dollars. What could the team mothers do to raise such a large sum? Paige Huntington had another suggestion. A truly different one. She had noticed how expensive the ticket prices were at bodybuilding competitions, sometimes ranging up to $75 a seat. Yet the auditoriums were always full. "We've all been wanting to show support for our boys through bodybuilding-well ladies, this is the opportunity we've been waiting for! Let's put on a bodybuilding posing exibition, featuring our sons-and US! A mixed couples, mother-son pose-down! I bet people would pay good money to see it!"

The other women were shocked into silence. The idea was unusual, even a bit outrageous. But it was so-daring-so unheard of-it might work. Yet it was definitely dangerous and-almost-obscene. It clearly had erotic, even incestuous overtones-the idea of these middle-aged mothers, their oiled, muscular bodies clad only in skimpy, suggestive bikinis, side by side with their sons, who would also be oiled-up, sporting tiny posing bikinis, both flexing their muscles in a very sensual display of strength and power- As the room considered Paige's audacious proposal, no one said a word. Several women grew glassy eyed, a few broke into a sweat, and one or two slowly licked their lips as they imagined themselves, bare shoulder to bare shoulder, with their handsome, muscular young boys, mother & son alike scantily clad in taut, teeny bikinis, flexing, posing, pumping- The proposal passed unanimously.

The first Stratford Academy Mothers & Sons Bodybuilding Exhibition, as it was dubbed, did not occur without opposition. The team itself was aghast at the idea. No teenage boy wrestler could imagine a worst place to be than standing in front of a crowd of people, practically naked, flexing his pecs with his practically naked mom! But the mothers used all their maternal and womanly powers to overcome the resistance, though their control over their sons' allowances was - at this point - the most important factor. The Stratford administrators were also appalled. The idea of some of the most socially prominent and wealthy women in the city appearing virtually nude in front of spectators at their school-it was crazy! But the Musclemom Booster Club (as the wrestling team mothers had re-named themselves) would not be denied. Paige, elected club president, warned the administrators that if they didn't agree to the unusual fund raiser, the mothers would refuse to raise or contribute any more money to Stratford, and might even send their sons to a different school next semester. The adminstration caved.

To put it mildly, the first musclemom-muscleson posing exhibition was a triumph. Although the Stratford gym held only 600 spectators, the event raised a cool $18,000 at 30 bucks a seat, far higher than any previous ticket price in the history of Stratford. Indeed, the sensual spectacle made the news on every TV channel in town both before and after, with filmed footage of the mother / son bodybuilders, both oiled to a high gleam, strutting and flexing in their scanty suits before an audience that was shocked, excited and wildly supportive at the same time. The bodybuilder moms had made sure that each mother and son wore matching bikinis and performed an entertaining, athletic (and very erotic) posing routine. In fact, the whole thing created a sensation. Part of which was the realization that not a few of the middle-aged musclematrons were actually more muscular than their sons: bigger, beefier, thicker and more ripped, with bulging muscles. This gender-bending aspect was exciting to the media, spectators and women, but quite embarrassing to the less developed of the boys, who were mortified at being outmuscled by their own mothers!

The huge success, which pulled in more money in two hours than all previous Stratford fundraisers combined for the past several years, guaranteed that the mother-son muscle exhibition became an annual event and made the Musclemom Booster Club a powerful organization on campus, in fact THE most powerful organization. For the next three years, the exhibitions pulled in huge amounts of money. A ticket for the musclemom - muscleson posedown became one of the most coveted in town, causing ticket prices to rise to over $100 a seat. The musclemoms demanded more seating be provided for the gym to generate even more $$$. By violating fire and safety codes, room for 1,000 spectators was eventually found, and by selling special front and close to the front row seats as "platinum," "gold," and "silver" tickets priced into the high hundreds, the Musclemom Booster Club was contributing 200,000+ dollars a year to Stratford and was by far the academy's largest source of fund-raising revenue.

But the school administration was worried Stratford had made a devil's bargain with the muscle moms, who were now, to put it mildly, throwing their weight around. The mothers demanded and won video rights to the exhibitions, and had apparently made considerable amounts selling videos of the musclemoms and sons posing and flexing side by side in the bright gym lights before the audience and also pumping up their muscles and oiling down in the gym's weightroom, the exhibition version of a backstage pumproom. The spectacle of the muscular middle-aged women and their hunky sons, both practically naked, oiling each other down and massaging each others' muscles, was the most popular selling point of these provocative videos. It was unclear how much money this was or where it had gone.

The exhibitions themselves had "pushed the envelope" more and more, each year. More sensual. More daring. More-(to be blunt), lascivious. The erotic, incestuous overtones had gotten more and more blatant. Each year the posing bikinis of both mother and son, now designed by the musclemoms themselves, got smaller, thinner, more revealing, and more suggestive. At the previous year's event the moms had sported minimal bras that left most of their oiled breasts exposed and covered less than half their aueroles -- indeed several bared nipples had been seen on some of the more brazen mothers. The taut lycra fronts of their bikini bottoms did little more than cover their pubic mounds (and clearly outlined their labia) while their slightly fuller suitbacks at least covered a portion of the musclematrons' buns, eschewing the thong look. The boys bikinis too, had gotten smaller, thinner and tighter, clearly designed to bring out the "big cock musclestud" look that accentuated their butts and genitals and especially favored the best endowed of the wrestlers. The boys had resisted the tinier and teenier costumes at first, but eventually had come around after maternal persuasion.

In fact, the changing relationship between the muscular mothers and their wrestling sons was another source of concern to administrators. The mother-son posing routines had become more physical, more intimate and more erotic. As they strutted and posed together they were often in skin to skin, muscle to muscle contact, often performing what looked like mother-son lambada, or even a sex act, as they flexed their way through the routine. It was the mother who was becoming more and more physically aggressive and lewd. And it was clear from the enormous bulges outlining the sons' snakes, and the flushed, pouting, agitated look on their mothers' faces, that both mother and son were deeply aroused by the other and that their interaction was becoming almost overtly carnal.

Even the physical appearance of the mothers, beyond their skimpier attire and suggestive behavior, had become more erotic, if possible. In the four years since the first exhibition the lady bodybuilders had gotten bigger, more ripped, and more powerful looking, while at the same time retaining or even enhancing their femininity, becoming curvier, sultrier, and more lush. Paige Huntington had continued to beef up to a truly massive 190 pounds and had recently won the city heavyweight title in women's bodybuilding. She had been a truly awesome sight at the contest, flexing her huge muscles in a sexy leopard spot bikini, sporting a sensual black neckband. After her victory, Paige was loving it, proudly telling herself, "Hell, I'm more muscular than the guys!" Triumphantly hitting poses atop the winners platform as photographers crowded below, almost mesmerized as they looked up into the tiny v of her bikini, she hit a staggering biceps shot, arrogantly primping for the cameras and boasting, "Check out my guns, boys! Mr. Olympia can't match these monsters!" Paige was incredibly pumped and sexually aroused as the cameras clicked and her bulging physique was ogled by hundreds of admirers. Another booster club member, Karin Olsen, a blonde bruiser of Swedish descent, had gone beyond big, crossing into 220+ pound territory, and was interviewed on television saying she wanted to go over 240 pounds and compete against heavyweight male bodybuilders on-stage, in posedowns.

The muscular women and their sons spent longer and longer hours in the Stratford weight room, which the mothers insisted now belonged exclusively to the Musclemom Booster Club. Even on weekends, the room rang to the clink and clank of heavy weights as well as the gutteral grunts of scantily clad musclewomen and their sons furiously pumping iron, their massive bodies bathed in sweat as they practiced their posing routines, flexing, primping, lifting. The massive matrons were so obsessed with building their muscles that often, after completing a grueling weight set, they had their sons feel and measure the pumped-up body part while badgering them, "Is it harder? It's gotta be bigger! I want 18" biceps!" The mothers had also taken to employing their sons as masseuses, putting the weight room's massage table into continuous use, with the bikini clad son often mounted on the mother's bare back, rubbing oil into her skin and giving her an intimate deep muscle massage that would have shocked anyone who knew the relationship between the two virtually naked bodybuilders.

And then there were the rumors. Rumors that the divorce rate in the Musclemom Booster Club had risen to nearly 100% as husbands, freaked out by their wives bodybuilder lifestyles and lewd behavior toward their sons, headed to court and hired private investigators to dig up dirt on their ex-spouses. Rumors of wild parties at some of the poshest mansions in town, where the bodybuilder mom sponsor ended up naked in a hot tub with several wrestling team members and where alcohol, drugs and sex were available in some form to everyone. And not just at parties. Rumors the musclemoms were buying steroids for their sons and for themselves (a big factor in the moms getting so much bigger) and encouraging, even forcing, the boys to take drugs in order to build up their muscles and improve their wrestling performances. And even darker rumors, stories about mother vs son wrestling matches in which the bigger, brawnier mother, after pinning her son, stripped him of his bikini and raped him, or perhaps not rape, for in some accounts the son was as willing as the mother to take the ultimate, taboo step. One thing was certain, as the mother & son posing routines became ever more intimate and erotic, the former reluctance of the boys evaporated, and they now eagerly posed and flexed with their musclebound moms in front of a thousand cheering spectators.

And finally last week, the three demands (in the form of "going to happen, like it or not," announcements) made by Paige Huntington, who had remained booster club president even after her son Hunter had graduated two years ago. With her forceful, aggressive personality, she had become a dominant force in the club as well as the school. The glamorous brunette bodybuilder, now a darkly tanned and gorgeous 43, met the adminstrators wearing a very short white miniskirt that ended just inches below her hips with pumps that flaunted her massively muscled legs and thighs, and sported a pull-over red silk blouse, cut daringly low to expose fully half her imposing bust and which also showed off her powerful, rippling shoulders and arms. Decked out with $100,000 worth of "casual" rings, bracelets and a pearl collar around the base of her thickly muscled neck, Paige was stunning. She dropped three bombshells, the first of which was, that at this year's mother - son posing exhibition, the musclemoms would go bare-breasted. The adminstrators - all men in their 50's to 60's - gasped out loud. "You mean-Ms. Huntington-that-the mothers are going to be-topless?" Standing before the seated men, hands on hips, Paige looked down with her haughtiest smile, "Right, Dean," she snickered, "so I'm sure you'll want a front row seat!" She went on to explain how topless bodybuilding contests had become popular in Europe and guaranteed higher ticket prices, attendance, and media ratings. "This year the base ticket will be $200, and the "platinum" price will be $800! We expect to clear $350,000 plus this year! Which will make over a million, total, gentlemen, since the first exhibition. So, if we girls want to show off a little and have some fun, why not?" And then the pretty musclewoman made her second announcement.

"You know how competitive women are, in everything! Many of our ladies have paid top dollar for their boobs, and some are having-umm-tune-ups-just for this exhibition. So, along with the best routine and most muscular awards, we'll have a trophy for best breasts! " Then Paige made her final demand.

"We need something completely new this year, something that will get everyone's attention and keep them talking! A Main Event. Since the mothers are posing with the wrestling team, it's time we had a wrestling match, between one of the mothers and one of the team members! And, gentlemen, since I'm the president of the booster club, I get to pick who the wrestlers are. Rodney Lomax, versus-me!" This time the gasps were even louder. Rodney Lomax was the star of the team, who'd been brought to Stratford a year ago on full scholarship, another demand of the Musclemom Booster Club, to improve the fortunes of the Stratford wrestling team. Only 15, but big for his age and athletically gifted, he had led the team to the state tournament as a heavyweight and had almost taken the state title. Rodney Lomax was also black, the only African-American in the school.

This, believe it or not, was still a sore point for some in this largely southern city of over a million. Racism and prejudice towards blacks wasn't above ground anymore, but underneath it still ran strong in some quarters. Only the insistence of the musclemoms had brought the young ebony athlete to Stratford, and although he was popular there, he had rubbed a few people the wrong way.

Including Paige Huntington. Even though she had demanded Rodney be given a scholarship and brought to Stratford to strengthen the wrestling team, she had been taken aback with how quickly he was idolized by his teammates, and even his coach, all of whom celebrated Roddy (as they called him) as the best wrestler in Stratford history. Until his arrival that title had been held by Paige's son, Hunter, who had captained the team his last two years at Stratford. Hunter had won several district championships in wrestling but had never gone far in the state tournament, unlike Roddy, who had almost won the state title as a 15 year old freshman. He had also won the junior division in several bodybuilding contests and commentators hailed him as the "young black Arnold." It irked Paige that Hunter was already forgotten, and this poor black kid from the ghetto had become the school hero. Roddy was the only wrestler with no mother in the booster club - she had died years ago, and his elderly grandmother was in a wheelchair. "Who does this welfare brat think he is, Tiger Woods?" she grumbled to herself. In truth, the wealthy and aristocratic white woman was a bigot. To look upon African - Americans as her equals, especially in an elite bastion of white privilege like Stratford, was intolerable. She was both jealous of Roddy and prejudiced against him.

So Paige had yet another idea. Ever since taking the heavyweight women's title at the city bodybuilding championship, and observing how she outclassed most of the male competitors there, she had known in the back of her mind she wanted to compete against men. But not in bodybuilding, like Karin Olsen. In wrestling. She had trained hard in mixed martial arts, boxing and wrestling and had recently challenged and defeated her bigger male instructor in a grueling wrestling match which lasted over an hour and ended in Paige's K.O. of the exhausted man after first battering him into a helpless wreck, and afterwards sending him to the hospital with a broken nose and three cracked ribs. She smiled as she'd remembered the shocked expression on the guy's face as she wrapped her massive legs around his head in a crushing figure-4. The veteran grappler kicked and flopped all over the mat, desperately trying every trick he knew to escape, but he couldn't break her hold. The pressure of his face against her labia had almost brought Paige to orgasm but he had passed out too soon. Then the applause from the small audience of martial arts instructors - suitably impressed by the musclewoman's fighting prowess - as the ref raised her hand in victory and her injured opponent was carried off the mat on a stretcher, had provided another near sexual thrill. A couple of days later, her recuperating opponent admitted to Paige that he had been about to submit just as she knocked him out. "You're the first student who ever beat me, and definitely the only woman!" he tried to laugh through his bruises but Paige could tell he was embarrassed. Paige had discovered she enjoyed beating up men--she had a taste for blood as well as a vicious streak. The brawny brunette was eager for a rematch, but the intimidated instructor turned her down, "No way, Paige! You gave me the worse beating I"ve ever had! Frankly, I"m scared of you!" he admitted. Now she was spoiling for physical combat and saw in Rodney Lomax both an opportunity for another fight, and an overrated, uppity young "bro" who needed to be taken down a peg or two. She was sure she could beat him - she outweighed him by a good 20 pounds - and with any luck her public defeat of the stud would be so humiliating he would leave Stratford in shame. That, at least, is what the president of the Musclemoms Booster Club told herself as exibition night drew near.

Now the big night was here. The headmaster looked around. Not a seat was empty. The gym was sold-out. There was erotic electricity in the air, more than ever before. He checked his watch. Five minutes till showtime. The man had a bad feeling. "It's out of control. They're going to push the envelope too far tonight and things will never be the same," he muttered to himself.

He was right.

End of part one. To be continued.