What's In A Name?
By Wanderer
Sometimes it's hard to know what to call someone.


This is adult material. Please do not read if you are under age 18 or laws in
your country forbid you to do so.

Copyright 2008 by Wanderer

I am a woman. Well, maybe I'm still a girl. I'm nineteen, so I guess I'm
someplace between girlhood and womanhood. I'm average in appearance, maybe a
little cute. I try to act intelligent, smooth, sophisticated, appealing,
funny, but none of this impresses the boys or the men. I guess I'm kind of
in-between; girl or woman, boys or men. I'm a college sophomore at a big
midwestern college. I'm getting pretty good grades so I guess I'm a success
that way. But I guess I'm a girl dreamer - when I get to college I'll meet a
really nice guy and I'll have a companion and we'll be in love and we'll get
married and all that good stuff. Oh, I meet a lot of guys, that's not the
problem. None of them seem to be interested in me - ME, who I am, what I'm
really like, what I think, the real ME.

Like take last Saturday night. Well, I didn't have a date, as usual, so I went
down to the local club. All the guys are staring at me as I walk in. I sit
down at the bar and order a drink. Thirty seconds later a guy walks up to me.
"Hi, babe, how ya' doin?" he says.

"Oh, good,," I say, giving him my best smile. "And you?"

He doesn't say anything. He's staring at my chest. I snap my fingers in front
of his eyes. He's startled, and he says, "Oh, yeah, it's been warm the last
few days," and he keeps staring at my chest, he doesn't even look at me. I'm
really upset. That's the way it always is. I walk down the street, I go to
class, professors lose their train of thought while lecturing, I walk into a
bar and bartenders drop bottles and spill drinks, guys come over to talk to me
and never look at me, they keep staring at my chest. I'll tell them my name.
They say "Huh?" It's exasperating. It's humiliating - what am I - just a boob?

Of course, I am pretty spectacular. God just blessed me. Or maybe he cursed
me. Words don't do me justice. I guess the best way to describe it is how men
react. Like this jerk. He hasn't looked at my face yet. He's staring down at
my cleavage. I'll bet if I tell him my name he won't even hear it - so I tell
him my name. Then I say "What's your name?"

"All I get is a "Huh?" So I say again, "I've told you my name, now be a
gentleman and tell me your name." Silence. His eyes are glued to my chest. So
I figure I'll play with the guy. I pretend I'm shifting my position in my
chair a little, and I throw my shoulders back and I give him a side view.
Well, now he's moaning a little and I can tell he's come in his pants without
me even touching him. I have that effect on guys.

He's so overcome he puts his head on my shoulder and he's gasping and trying
to regain his composure. So I grab a handful of his hair and pull his head
back and I'm practically yelling now to be heard over the music and the noise
in the club and I say, "I've told you my name, what's yours?"

"Uh, uh, I'm Bob. Yeah, I'm Bob," and he's practically got his nose down
in-between my breasts. Now I'm the product of a unique pair of parents. Dad
was a weightlifter and body builder - he even won some contests - and mom,
when she met dad he got her interested in the sport and so she went to the gym
with him to be near him and she worked hard at it so she could impress him.
When I was born they would take me with them to the gym and leave me in the
baby sitting section, but I would climb out of the playpen and wander around
and roll the dumbbells on the floor and everybody thought I was such a cute
kid and they would humor me and gradually I started lifting the weights and I
got pretty good at it. I think that accounts for my phenomenal chest
development. I've got some great pectoral muscles - terrific striations, and
big, too, and my breasts sit on top of that. And my shoulders are broad, and
my chest is deep from all the bench presses and physically I'm pretty
spectacular. The rest of me matches my chest, but I wear long sleeve sweaters
to hide my biceps, and pants to hide my heavily muscled legs, so nobody really
knows what my body looks like, but I really can't hide my chest regardless of
what I do. I can't wear coats in the hot midwestern summer time. And I'll be
damned if I'm going to go around being so self-conscious, but of course I go
around being self-conscious. Especially when jerks like this guy can't get his
nose out of my cleavage. He hasn't looked at my face yet. I could be missing
two front teeth and have an extra eye in the middle of my forehead and this
guy wouldn't even know it. And he wouldn't care. He was only interested in two
very prominent nipples sitting on top of two extremely prominent breasts.

"Wouldn't you like to dance?" he says to my boobs. This guy is a piece of
work. I'm fed up with this kind of asshole. I've been at this university for a
year and a half and I've yet to meet a guy who's interested in me - what I
think, what I like, what's my major, what do I want to do in life - and this
guy - Bob - he's no different. I'm fed up - what do they say? I'm not going to
take it anymore.

"Sure, Bob, let's dance," I say. The band plays fast stuff and slow stuff. The
fast stuff Bob has his eyes glued to my chest, looking for the bounce and the
jiggle. There really isn't much to speak of. Very strong pectorals and very
firm breasts, you know. The slow stuff he jams himself into me and he's
rubbing his chest all over my nipples. How annoying! I rest my head on his
shoulder and put my left hand tight against his back - he can't move his upper
body - boy, is he frustrated. I can feel him trying like hell - he has no idea
I've got muscles. He can't understand it.

I say to him, "Bob - I always liked the name Bob. Somehow it's such a
friendly, down to earth name. What do you think of my name, Bob?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, you've got a friendly name too," Bob says.

"You have such a nice voice, Bob, let me hear you say my name."

"Uh - yeah - uh - how do you spell it again?" Bob asks.

"Oh, Bob," I giggle, "it's not a hard name to spell. It spells just like it
sounds. Go on, say it, I like guys to call me by my first name, it's so
friendly, and I've told it to you twice already, so I know you know it. You're
just teasing me. C'mon, you say my name and I may just give you a good look at
my breasts that you've been admiring all night. I don't wear a bra, you know.
These babies can stand up on their own," I giggle.

Well, Bob's beginning to sweat. "Uh - OK - I know your name - It's Betty."

"Oh, Bob, do I look like a Betty to you? You're guessing - Why, you don't even
like me enough to remember my name," I pouted. "No breasts for you tonight.
And I'll bet you're a boob man too, aren't you, Bob?"

Now Bob was really sweating. "Carol - Ann - Janice - Barbara - Frances -
Evelyn - C'mon, tell me."

"But Bob, I've told you twice already. You just don't like me enough to even
remember my name," I pouted.

"Listen, cunt, don't play around with me. I've got no time for your crap. I'm
going to suck those big nips of yours and stick my tool into your pussy and
you're going to beg me for more and more before I'm finished with you
tonight!" Bob said.

Well, now I was really angry. Nobody talks that disrespectfully to me. But
I'll play along. "Oh, Bob, you're so manly! I'm really scared! Please be
gentle with me, please."

"Yeah, well, let's go, I'm tired of this small talk crap!" my hero said. Bob
grabbed me by the arm and pulled me along behind him out the back door to the
parking lot. He was so pissed he failed to notice that gee, this girl has a
pretty solid arm. Maybe it's a little large, too.

"Let's take my car, Bob," I say. "Then I'll be able to drive home after you
have your way with me."

"Good idea, babe," Bob says. "That way I won't have to spend my Sunday
listening to you whine about how you don't get no respect."

We get to my car and Bob pushes me up against my door and he's kissing me and
slobbering all over me and running his hands all over my breasts. So I turn
him around and I push him up against my car door. I put my left hand around
his neck and I lift him a foot off the ground while I search with my right
hand in my pockets looking for my car key. I hear this gurgling sound coming
from a very surprised and shocked Bob.

"Just a minute, Bob," I say. "I don't want you to run away while I'm getting
my key. You're such a manly man and you've really got me excited about seeing
your ding-dong. Maybe you'll even let me touch it, Bob. Or maybe you'll even
let me put it in my mouth and lick it a little. Would you be generous that way
with me, Bob, to let me do that?"

Bob's holding on to my left forearm, trying to relieve some of the pressure on
his neck, and his eyes are starting to bug out of his head, and his penis
looks like it's going to poke right through his pants. The thought of his
penis in my mouth and nestling in between my boobs is too much for him and as
I hold him a foot off the ground against the side of my car I can see a big
wet spot growing at his crotch. It's come. Or maybe it's pee as I can feel him
shaking with fright as I hold his two hundred pounds helpless in the air with
no more effort on my part than as if I were holding up my purse, and I don't
carry a big purse.

I find my keys and I say to Bob, "Tsk, tsk, Bob, you naughty boy, I can't let
you sit in my car, you'll stain my upholstery." Slowly I pull him away from
the side of my car, still holding him in the air with just my one hand, and I
walk around to the back of my car and I pop the trunk lid open with my
automatic key. I throw Bob into the trunk and I slam the lid shut. Bob is
yelling "Help! Help!" but no one hears him, the music from the bar is blaring
real loud and drowning everything out.

Now it happens that I registered at the university too late to get a dorm room
on campus so I was behind the eight ball for living accommodations. I finally
found something off campus and on the outskirts of town that was in my price
range. A really old couple had lived in it and they felt so isolated they had
put bars on the outside of the windows and when the elderly gentleman
developed Alzheimer's the wife had bars put on the inside of the windows and
key operated locks on the inside of the doors so that the old man couldn't
just wander off one night. I didn't need all that security - I could take care
of myself - but now I could see that all that security was going to be
extremely handy.

I got to my residence and I opened the trunk lid. Well, Bob came out fighting.
He's swinging at me wildly and I'm standing there laughing, bobbing and
weaving and he never laid a hand on me. Finally I got tired of the game so I
hit him once with a right cross right on the chin and he went out like a
light. I put my shoulder under him as he collapsed and I carried him into the
house. I dumped his limp body on the sofa since it was now early Sunday
morning, and I started to get ready for bed. But I was perplexed. Now that I
had impulsively brought Bob home with me what was I going to do with him -
lock him up? Kill him and bury his body in the back yard? I think I'll have to
sleep on it - until Sunday morning, anyway.

I took off my clothes, put on my nightgown, and I hear Bob stirring so I go in
to see what's up. Now I'm wearing a shorty diaphanous nightgown so you can see
my calves, my legs, my breasts, my arms, my shoulders, so for the first time
Bob is getting to see me uncovered. Well, naturally, Bob is staring at my
boobs. But now he realizes there are other parts to my body. He looks down to
my calves and his eyes get wide. Then his gaze travels up to my quads and I
give him a little flex and that draws a gasp. I'm having fun with this asshole
so I give him a side chest pose. Inhale deep, girl, let's see what this creep
does. Well, he falls right off the sofa, gets up, runs over to me and tries to
paw my breasts like he's my boy friend or something. He's so excited his prick
is poking through his pants again. When he gets close enough I put my palms
under his armpits and again I lift him off the floor, this time about three
feet in the air.

"Oh, Bob," I say, "you're such a charmer. You just tell me my name and you can
do what you want with me all night long. I'll be your slave, your concubine,
your mistress, your whore, you just name it. Now just name me and I'll fulfill
your wildest dreams. You know I can," I giggle.

"Ann - Annie - Mildred - Martha - Karen - Donna - Gladys - Felicia - Elvira -
who cares what your name is, cunt, put me down!"

"Oh, but Bob, I care what my name is, it shows you know who I am, that maybe
you care about me, not just my body - but ME! Now, Bob, stop playing with my
mind and tell me my name!"

"I don't know your name, you lousy bitch - if you don't put me down right now
I'm going to beat the shit out of you!"

"Oh, Bob," I say, "please don't threaten me, I'm just a timid girl. You scare
me!"

"I'll do more than scare you!" he yells at me. "I'll poke my prick right
through your throat if you don't put me down this minute!"

So I put him down. Then I said, "Well, if you're going to beat me up, Bob, I
guess I'll have to make an effort to defend myself, at least a little bit. Let
me loosen up a little bit before you kill me, will you?" I put my left hand
around my right wrist and pumped my right hand up and down a little, bending
my arm at the elbow. That makes my tricep jump off my arm. As you can imagine,
after years of weight training with my mom and dad I've got a sizable tricep.
Bob lets out a gasp. So I decide to show him my bicep. I extend my right arm
straight out and then I flex it at the elbow towards my head. Well, you can
imagine if I can hold a two hundred pound guy up off the ground with one hand
I'm going to have a pretty sizable bicep - twenty-two inches to be exact. Bob
gasps. He turns and runs to the door, trying to get out of the house.I'm
guessing, but I don't think he's got a twenty-two inch bicep.

"Oh, Bob," I giggle. "This place is like a fortress. You can't get in or out
unless I let you in or out. And right now this bitch is feeling bitchy. So you
want to fight me, let's fight!"

Well, all of a sudden Bob is on his knees in front of me, sobbing. Now I'm
sure of it - Bob does not have a twenty-two inch bicep. He grabs onto my
thighs and his tears are running down his cheeks onto my calves and into my
bunny slippers. "Please, please, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me! I
had too much to drink back at the bar. I don't know what I said or did to you
to make you so mad at me! I won't do it again! Please let me go!"

"Oh, Bob, it's easy for you to get away. I'll let you go immediately. I just
want to know that you think of me as a person. I just want to know that you
listened to me when I talked. You're out the door and on your way as soon as
you tell me my name."

"Agatha - Barbara - Louise - Sam - Samantha - Ruth - Xena - Callipe -Val -
Ethel -, oh, I don't know," he sobbed.

"Well, Bob," I said, "I guess I'll have to keep you around for a while, until
you stop playing with me and tell me my name. There's a lot of work to do
here. I think you can clean the house, do my laundry, have my dinner ready
when I come home from the university - oh, and you can leave as soon as you
stop being so stubborn and tell me my name. Is it a deal?"

"Hey, you can't keep me here - That's kidnapping, bitch!" he yelled at me.

"Sure, Bob," I said. "What are you going to tell the cops? 'That girl
kidnapped me!' I'll say you came to my house and raped me and threatened to
kill me if I said anything to the police. Now who do you think they're going
to believe?"

All this was too much for Bob. He came at me, swinging wildly. Well, I had to
show him who was boss. I couldn't tolerate this kind of rebellious attitude.
Imagine coming home every day to that kind of demeanor. I wiped the floor with
him. It was so much fun! It kind of made up for my years of frustration with
men. I'm sorry I had to take it out on one man but I felt so much better when
I was finished. I'd never really beat up a guy before and I really enjoyed it.
First I poked him lightly on the chin. Then I poked him lightly on the nose. I
thought it was a light punch but his nose started to bleed. Then I poked him
in one eye and it started to close almost immediately. I was delighted to be
discovering that my fists were lethal weapons - did I mention that my dad was
light heavyweight champion in college? It only took me four or five punches
and Bob was out cold, flat on his back. I picked him up and carried him into
the bedroom and laid him out. Poor sucker was dead to the world all night
long. Of course he has an erection sticking straight up in the air so I used
it. Men are such funny creatures - I don't know if I'll ever understand them.

Next morning I hear someone moving around stealthily, trying doors, rattling
windows, trying to be very quiet. I know what's going on. I get up. "It's no
use, Bob, you can't get out unless I let you out. Now go into the kitchen and
prepare my breakfast."

"I will not!" he yells. "You can't make me!"

So I ball up my fist. Bob immediately scampers into the kitchen and starts
making breakfast. It wasn't bad. I think the guy has a future as a chef - a
short order cook, anyway.

After breakfast I tell Bob I'm off to school. "Bob, clean up the house and get
dinner ready. You'll find food in the refrigerator and in the storage cabinet
and I'll bring more stuff home from the grocery store tonight. Don't
disappoint me." He doesn't say a word. He just glares at me.

I do some shopping after class, and when I get home nothing has been done -
the house is dirty and there's no food cooking. Bob is sitting in a chair
watching TV. It's like he didn't even hear me when I left for school this
morning. So I go over, pick him out of the big easy chair and carry him over
to a straight back chair, turn him over my lap and spank him. I spanked him
pretty hard because I'm mad, and soon he's bawling. After a good five minutes
of spanking I turn him right side up and sit him on my lap and tell him,
"You're to obey me - I'm not fooling! When I tell you to clean the house you
clean the house! When I tell you to cook dinner you cook dinner! You
understand me?" I stand him up and he just stands there in front of me, tears
running down his cheeks, rubbing his sore behind and looking at me with a
sense of awe and wonder. Turns out this is the first spanking of his life. His
parents gave him time-outs when he misbehaved, he'd never been spanked before.
And he's got a huge erection poking through his pants. What's up with that? So
I'm not going to waste it, I put my hands on his waist, pick him a foot or so
off the floor and carry him into the bedroom. He's got his hands resting on my
biceps, trying to push off a little, but twenty-two inch biceps carrying two
hundred pounds get pretty big and I can see him get pretty docile - there's a
look of fear in his eyes. I did have fun - he's got a pretty good size prick,
and anyway he doesn't have any dinner ready so I keep going. He's got pretty
good staying powers.

Next morning I'm off to school again and I tell him: "No dinner tonight Bob
and the house isn't spic and span you'll get a spanking that will make last
nights look like a love tap." Guess what - dinner was on the table and the
house was cleaner than I'd ever gotten it. As a reward I gave him a great big
kiss and he just kind of collapsed into my arms, his head resting on my bosom,
so I carried him into the bedroom because he had another great big erection -
this was getting to be a habit.

Next night I get home, dinner is ready, the house is perfect and when I open
the door Bob is on his knees. I figure he's going to beg me to let him go. It
was a hot day so I'm wearing shorts. Bob throws his hands around my legs and
starts kissing and licking. What a surprise! Well, I'm pleased. I flex my
thighs just to see his reaction. When I flex my thighs I've got muscles
running all over the place. They're pretty big for a girl - thirty-two inches,
and solid. Well, Bob starts moaning and kissing and licking like a man
possessed. This guy is really weird! So I bend down, put one hand under his
knees and one hand on his back and I carry him in this kneeling position into
the bedroom. Chris' sakes, I'm getting more sex in a week than I have in my
almost two years at this university! And I'm supposed to be mad at this guy!

I don't know - I may decide to keep him. He seems to be well trained now and I
won't have to train a new guy. He's pretty cute and I didn't mark him up that
much. The black eye healed nicely. The nose healed with a little lean to the
left side after I broke it, but it's hardly noticeable unless you look real
close. Of course, if I marry him I'll have to sign the marriage certificate,
and he'll see my name. Mary - Mary Roberts. So he'll be able to say my name to
me and I would have to let him leave. But somehow I don't think Bob is going
to want to leave. After all, where else is he going to find such a spectacular
chest?