[TheGov]

First, thanks to all who responded to my "ethics" question as well as the kind soul who told me I still had some stuff on the Awefilsm board.  This is one of those.  It's the tale of a poor scientist who becomes hopelessly lost in deepest, darkest Africa.  He would never have survived were it not for some unexpected help from…

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GEORGETTE OF THE JUNGLE!

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It was the end. I was tired, half starved, thoroughly lost, and did I mention that I had somehow strategically placed myself between a baby rhino and her irate mother?  Trapped as I was in the local vegetation, my ankle seriously twisted, I had no hope of escape.

The Congo is a gorgeous place under the right conditions, and to a budding Ph.D. zoologist like myself, it should have been a dream come true.  But the dream had turned into a nightmare. I could see the outskirts of the jungle less than half a mile away.  Mama rhino was much nearer and closing fast. 100 yards, 80, 70, it was like a kickoff return but with no defenders between the runner and the end zone.

I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get a chance to see much of the celebration.  40, 30, 20…, I fell to my knees and prepared for the end. Suddenly out of nowhere there appeared a most remarkable creature, a woman of proportions that are rather difficult to explain. She quickly positioned herself perhaps 15 feet away, squarely between the charging beast and myself, her back thoroughly blotting out my view of the attacker and just about everything else on the vast African plane. Reaching out, this magnificent woman grabbed the rhino by the horn on its snout as it charged. Planting her feet and using nothing but her raw strength, she virtually halted the rampaging beast.

Pushing up from underneath, she threw the enraged creature over my head and into a large briar patch some 20 yards or so the other side of me.  Remarkably unhurt, the confused rhinoceros scrambled to its feet and looked to its baby, then to us, trying to decide if the threat had passed or whether it needed to charge again.  My savior quickly strode to my side and let out a yell that would have made Tarzan proud!
As she did so, she tensed herself causing every immense muscle to ripple, bounce, and dance on her sleek, ultra-powerful body.  And like Tarzan, she beat her fists high on her chest as she did so.  The rhino seemingly thought better of it, collected her child, and the two lumbered off with a speed that belied their size.

The woman then relaxed, turned her eyes downward toward me, and smiled. I only wished I could smile back, but I was simply awestruck, more than I’d never imagined I could be.  I had never dreamed there could exist such a combination of beauty and power all rolled into one package.

She was a black woman of long, flowing hair, flawless complexion, and a smile to light up the darkest African midnight.  About my height, perhaps a bit shorter (I being 5’ 10”) she possessed a physique the likes of which I never imagined.

Covered in a scandalously tiny hand-made leopard skin bikini, her body was a massive fortress of muscle upon muscle upon yet more muscle.  Not an ounce of fat could be seen.  I never had any particular interest in body building, men’s or women’s, but I had seen the covers of the magazines in grocery stores.

The goddess standing before me would put any of the men to shame and utterly dwarf the women. What did she weigh, I wondered, 300 pounds or more?

Yet I saw in this mass of bulges nothing unsightly or unfeminine.  Truth be told, (and how do I put this delicately,) the top of her bikini was, shall we say, working overtime?  Even compared to her immense musculature, her breasts would have to be considered huge, being much larger than the largest surgically enhanced stripper on the circuit and with a look so firm I guessed someone could easily crack an egg on them!  I finally regained some semblance of composure and attempted to communicate.  “I – – I don’t suppose you speak any English, but I hope the tone of my voice will communicate my eternal gratitude.”

Broadening her smile, she lowered a hand and I took it.  To my chagrin, she responded in a rich, melodic, upper-crust Bostonian tone, “Actually I do speak English as my native language, and am quite conversant in French, Spanish, German, Urdu, Cantonese Chinese, Mandarin Chinese, Togalog, Swahili, numerous local dialects, and if there’s another with which you’re more comfortable, try me!  I’m quite good with… tongues.”  And with that, she slowly licked her lips, raised and lowered her eyebrows a couple of times like Groucho Marx, and gave me a wink.

She pulled me up, then bent down to my right ankle, took the vines that held me captive and gently snapped them, setting me free. I had tried in vain to break them for some time before the rhino had spotted me, but couldn’t begin to make headway.  They were almost an inch thick and quite green, yet to her they offered no resistance.

“Ooooh, your ankle is terribly swollen!  I’d better get you back to where ever it is you need to go. Where is that?” she asked, she now looking up at me, her lovely eyes filled with concern.

“My base camp is at Ogani village. I can only guess how far or in which direction. I’ve been wandering around for 3 days!”

“You are lost” she exclaimed.  “That’s about 25 miles west of here.  You’re in no condition to walk that far, let me take you”.  With that, she rose, put her right arm around my back and under my right arm, swept me up with her left arm under my knees like I was a 4 year-old child, and started toward the forest. Whatever semblance of masculine pride I had was disappearing fast, and I could only tell her, “Madam, I’m obviously in no position to refuse, but I certainly can’t ask you to take on such a task as that!”  By the time I had finished my half-hearted protest, we had already arrived at the jungle.  She gently stood me up and stepped back a few feet. 

She began to explain some very fundamental truths: “First, we’re going to be close to each other for the next 25 miles. VERY close.  ‘Madam’ just won’t do.  My name is Georgette.  Georgette Peterson. Georgette works, Georgie is better.  If you’re a slave to formality I suppose Ms. Peterson is acceptable. You may hear the villagers of Ogani call me ‘Onassai Malissa’ which loosely translates into ‘Muscle Babe’.  I’m not fond of it, but they mean well and it beats the hell out of ‘MADAM!’

“Second, I repeat, we’ve got 25 miles to cover.  You have a demonstrated ability to get lost within a distance of more like 25 feet.  I’ve followed your progress for the last day and a half and if you’d been Columbus, you would have discovered Oslo!  History would have been quite different and I might not have gotten so fed up with humanity that I had to give up my promising career in linguistics, my professorship at Harvard, and moved here to get away!

“Third, in following you for the last day and a half I’ve become quite fond of you.  I saw the little episode where you took the time to remove the thorn from that baby lion’s paw, all the time looking out for its mother knowing full well she’d kill you if she found you out.  You have a heart as big as the African planes and you needn’t speak of repaying me.  I love this land and anyone who shares that love.”

“Finally, you may not have noticed, but 25 miles carrying you will be little burden to me.  The environment here has agreed with my physiology quite nicely over the past 5 years that I’ve been here, thank you.  QUITE NICELY INDEED!  Your weight is really no burden to me… AT ALL.”

Between the “to me” and the “at all”, Georgette struck a pose that made my knees weak. She tucked her hands behind her head, elbows extended wide, placed her right ankle in front of her left, raised herself up upon her toes, and flexed. I was in a state of utter disbelief.  I swear, the biceps were as big as her head. Not her whole upper arm, just the biceps!  I had thought nothing could show itself from behind her incredible breasts.  I don’t know the body-builder terms for the muscles involved, but her back easily managed the feat.  Had they been wings, she could surely fly!

The act of raising her arms had lifted her incredible bosom up above her collarbone, yet it was clear they were supported by chest muscles that knew no bounds.  Underneath was displayed an abdominal region that would surely repel a cannon shot from a distance of a few feet, shattering it to pieces; two columns, three rows each, protruding like massive cobblestones of iron.

As for her thighs, I saw massive slabs of steel erupt in glorious formation of symmetry and power that defied the imagination.  Each converged upon a knee that quickly gave way to a calf flared out to a size that rivaled that of my entire torso.
My upbringing was such that I had always considered the female to be the weaker sex.

My preconceived notions of masculinity and femininity were being suddenly turned inside out and upside down as Georgie simply stood there, those haunting eyes boring a hole through my soul, her rich, full lips inviting my arrival, the unbelievable size and power reminding me that I dare not offend.  The Amazon Queen (yeah, I know this is Africa and the Amazon is in South America, but cut me some slack for heaven’s sake!) then softened her expression, if not her pose, twisted to her left 180o and lowered her elbows, continuing her flex.  Although every last muscle seemed to have a life of its own, it was at times difficult to tell where, for instance her shoulder left off and her back began.  That back looked like it could be used as an aircraft carrier, capable of landing a Boeing 747, and her calves daring me to just run my fingers between the twin lumps of iron. 

And her biceps… oh those biceps!  Georgie somehow glanced over her right shoulder and no doubt saw me with my mouth agape, just staring at those biceps.  She took her right fist, a fist that could no doubt shatter a boulder with the slightest intent, and rotated it a little to the left, a little to the right…

“Now that we’ve got THAT straight, what’s YOUR name?”

So what if she had been a Harvard professor?  So what if she spoke God-knows-how-many languages?  I was a PhD from Yale, dammit, and I was EDUCATED!  I was a SCIENTIST! I had DIGNITY for Chrissake!!!

“Um… Uh… Well… Uh… David… Uh… I guess.”  So much for dignity.

Her expression softened.  “Please come here, David” she said turning around.  I took one step forward and then collapsed to the ground with a sudden burst of pain.  I had completely forgotten about my injury.
“Oh David” she cried, “I forgot your swollen ankle!”  Georgie quickly knelt beside me and gently cradled my head between her more than ample bosom. Despite my pain, I was in heaven.  I found her left hand supporting the back of my head with my right hand and seemingly by instinct followed it up the wrist, past her ever-so-thick forearm, past the elbow and to the glorious biceps.  I couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not, but it suddenly flexed and as it did so, it wedged my hand firmly into her immense left bosom. 

Oh no! What if she was offended? This woman could crush me like a grape in winemaking season!  But such was not to be the case.  I felt her right hand upon my knee, whereupon it began to move up my thigh until…

“OH DAVID! It looks like your ankle isn’t the only swollen part of your body!  I may not be a doctor, but I think I can do something about THAT swelling!”  And with that she swept me up, grabbed a nearby vine, and began swinging us through the jungle.  As if reading my very thoughts, she reassured me on every conceivable doubt or dread.

“Don’t worry, I’d never let you fall.  Like I said, I’m very fond of you.  And don’t be afraid of touching me just for the pleasure of touching me. I love being touched by the right person, anywhere, anytime.  And you, David, could very well be the right person.  Enjoy the ride, we’ll be there in no time!”

I assumed “there” to be Ogani Village, and rather hoped that “no time” might linger.  I quickly learned to time the transition from one vine to the next, for as she switched from one arm to the other, I would catch the new load-bearing arm and feel it swell bigger and harder than the last.  It dawned on me that light as my 185 pound body must have felt to her, moving her own frame through the jungle in this manner and at this pace must be one great exercise for her.  I then realized that it didn’t matter where I touched her, the muscle would suddenly erupt, exploding into a glorious display of surrealistic proportions.  I looked into her eyes and she gave a knowing smile, shoving by head between her inviting breasts, her free hand guiding my left hand into her dampening crotch.

She moaned and whispered, “I haven’t had a man in years.  I hope you don’t mind taking a small detour.” Like, I was going to mind ANYTHING this woman wanted.  We suddenly touched down on a flat ledge in a tree high above the jungle floor.  We were outside an elaborate tree house, almost as impressive as Georgie’s body.  OK, it wasn’t nearly THAT impressive, but it had two stories, a large waterbed, wall to wall carpeting, walk-in closets, Jacuzzi, fireplace… and a 300 watt stereo.  I looked in disbelief, to which she shrugged her massive shoulders, and said “I may have turned my back on civilization, but I gotta have my tunes!”  She grabbed my pants and yanked them down, exposing a sticky mess that should have embarrassed me no end.  I don’t know HOW many times I had come on my way to her jungle retreat.  She didn’t seem to care and neither did I.

“Did I cause all THAT?” she mocked, ripping off her top. The she flexed first her left pectoral, then her right, and back and forth causing her breasts to bounce up and down and my member to bounce up, up and up again!  Georgie grabbed me, threw me down on the bed and jammed her tongue down my throat performing the closest thing to a tonsillectomy I’d ever experienced.  No anesthetic required!  I found the strength to yank her bottom off, and penetrated her once, twice…

I admit, I’ve never been really great at sex.  At Yale I never did well with the women.  But DAMN!  That woman brought out the best in me.  Several times.  The daylight faded.  The fire in the fireplace dimmed.  As my eyelids grew heavy, I nestled my head between her enormous breasts, I on my right side, she on her left, my arms draped around her right upper arm.  She gave one last flex, and it seemed all I could do to get my arms around the massive boulder that resulted. Damn, she was gorgeous.  Damn, she was big.  I had come to realize the two were synonymous.  I came one last time and drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

I awoke with the dawn and found the muscle goddess standing over me, naked as the night before, her gigantic muscles glistening in the rising sunlight.  She held a glass out to me.

“Drink this” she said as I came to my senses.  I complied with her wishes.

“Mmmm, what is it?” I asked.  “Some magical, mystical elixir?”

She laughed a cool, clear, loving laugh.  “Hardly! Just a jungle version of mouthwash!”

And with that she kissed me with a passion and zeal that harkened to the night before.

“Your ankle looks better, but you still seem to have that other nasty swelling.  Let’s see what we can do about that.”

“Georgie,” I started after climaxing for one last time, “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you seem even bigger than yesterday if that’s possible!”

She stepped back, raised both arms and flexed one arm, then the other, then the first again, reminding me of a piston engine, finally settling into what I later came to know as a so-called “double biceps” pose. My GOD she was huge!  Again, she seemingly read my thoughts, satisfying my curiosity.

“I’ve been up since about 4:00 this morning getting ready for you. According to my scale I’m at about 350 pounds, but I think it’s about 25 pounds light. Do you realize that the biggest male body builders have upper arms about 22 or 23 inches?  Right now, these are well over 40!  Come feel.”

I stepped forward and found myself barely able to wrap my arms around the structure that was her right upper arm.  Her biceps was like a cannonball and the underlying triceps a mass of iron to match.  I moved my touch over her preposterously broad shoulder and to her chest. Georgie’s pectorals came to life on cue, rolling wave after wave of erotic muscle under my trembling hand.

Suddenly, I felt myself being gently lifted up from underneath, as her massive thigh had slid between my legs. She flexed it, enlarging it to the point I could barely straddle it. Then with a quick relaxation and burst of tension, she shot me about 5 feet into the air and I found myself sitting atop the 40+ inch mass of her arm!  She then proceeded to flex me up and down like I was riding a bloody horse!!
After all the times I’d come over the past 24 hours, I was hard once again, and quickly shot my load in the air.  Fantastically, she caught it in her mouth and swallowed in an audible gulp as I landed softly on the bed, exhausted.  Glancing at her pumped chest, she said “I thought I might go back to the States and enter a bodybuilding contest or two, but I think the sight of these 120-inch wonders would make the judges freak."

“Here’s a jungle riddle for you… what’s a zebra?”

“Uh… I don’t know,” I said, “what IS a zebra?”

“The largest size!  And about what I’d have to wear to cover these, which I’d really prefer to show off.  It really pisses off the Ogani missionary, but hey – life isn’t perfect!”  I must say that right about then for me it was.  With that she put me down, put on her leopard skin bikini and motioned me toward my clothes.

“It’s time to get you back to the village, lover.”

I put on my clothes, propped myself up in her massive arms and once again entrusted life and limb to this muscular wonder. She grabbed a vine and off we went.

All too soon we touched down within sight of Ogani.  I looked at her with longing eyes.  “I’d like to stay with you.  I have no desire to leave civilization, but given the choice, I’ll take you, Georgette.”  Damn, I must have sounded like a wuss.  She just smiled. “No, you go back.  Give this about a month of time to put it in perspective and then if you still miss all this (she again flexed herself beyond description) you can come back for a visit.”

“How will I find you?” I pleaded.

“Come back to Ogani,” she said.  “From there news travels fast.  Just don’t set out to find me.  I don’t want you getting lost again!”

I had to ask.

“Georgette, you were obviously like nothing I’ve ever experienced.  You said you hadn’t been with a man for a long time, yet you’re obviously a woman of great passion.  I damn near died from all the exertion, yet you obviously had to hold back.  What did you see in me and how do you do without?”

She looked me dead in the eyes.  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.  Between your love of the land and your physical adoration, nobody ever touched me like you.  And as for doing without, I didn’t.  I just said I hadn’t been with a man.”  Then she whispered in my ear.  My jaw dropped.  I turned and, in a daze, walked back to the village as she returned to her beloved jungle.  But off in the distance I could barely make out her parting words.

“DON’T BE GONE TOO LONG! I WAS JUST KIDDING ABOUT THE GORILLAS!”

-The End –

[Fonk]

Damn, that's a good story! Is there any chance of a follow-up? 😀

[The_Pimp_NeonBlack]

A very nice story, dear Governer. Nice pace and description.
Though motivation of the characters was not as clear as it could have been and on emajor point that doth bother I: There are no Tigers in Africa. Even Monty Python do know that fact.
Though, that said, you have again written a most wonderful tale and for that alone, Kudos shall be your's.
May your Pen never wane.
Peace
The Pimp NeonBlack

[TheGov]

Mr. Pimp!  You are, of course, correct.  Tigers exist only in Asia and Detroit.  It was a double faux-pas since one of the two chief characters was a zoologist!  I have made the change to "lion", as lions do exist in Africa (as well as in Detroit, though of late people of Detroit don't like to admit it.)

Thanks for your help and your comments about motivation.  I'm in the middle of another story – I'll keep that in mind.

(Lemon curry?)

Mr. Fonk – thanks!  I generally don't do follow-ups, though this story kinda suggests one.

[rodman]

Hi Gov,
Great to see your original story. I have the Scoundrel graphic version. In yours you don't explain how she got to be so massive. I hope you can post or write some more stories, or post a continuation of this one. Buy the way do you know what has become of Scoundrel? 😎 We all love his artwork.
Thanks,
Rodman

[TheGov]

Rodman –

Thanks for your comments.  The version you see is cut-and-paste from the Awefilms site without the pictures and with two minor modifications.  I lost my original.  Massive Productions occasionally "tweaked" my stuff so there may be a difference depending on where you got yours from (hard copy or electronic.)

The subject of "Whatever happened to…" on this board has definitely included Scoundrel from time to time.  Actually I wrote a number of stories based on a picture of his (this was one of them) and I think I speak for everyone on this board when I say that he and his art are missed.  I have no idea as to his whereabouts.  I think the last anyone heard, he was doing some collaboration with Michelle Roppo of "Annie Ample" fame, but even that was some time ago.

If you have electronic versions of other stories of mine, could you let me know?

Thanks again for your comments.

The Gov

[Author]

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