[Fonk]

I like. A lot. I'm a sucker for good Zelda-related stuff, and this is still the best I've seen. Nice one!

[Fonk]

I'm going to echo 00tree – nice veins, sir. Keep the good work coming! 8)

[Fonk]

Things look like they're hotting up for our main man… looking forward to more, and thanks for this great part!

[Fonk]

That's some quite serious muscle there. Thank for sharing, and I hope your brother makes a full recovery.

[Fonk]

For anyone who's not read this already, I urge you to do so. Urge! 😉

[Fonk]

Hee! Great stuff, sir, great stuff. 😀

[Fonk]

Hmmmm! That might be worth picking up. 8) /  ;D

[Fonk]

Interesting story.
To help fonk.
"J'ai la tablette de chocolat" is a figurative phrase for "I have washboard abs"

Thanks!

[Fonk]

Hi! Working on translating scat's stories – see Strength & Muscle Stories – gave me an appetite to get back to writing my own stuff. So here's the next episode.

The Claws Of Winter – Part 4

Vanessa Keates was petrified. Forgetting her sword, she scrambled back over to the others, scratching at her arm and looking uncomfortable. She stood in front of her colleagues, raising her head to look defiantly at the catastrophically mighty woman striding toward them. The Collarwearer exuded confidence, smiling leeringly at them all. She stopped a few feet away and addressed them in slightly accented English, which Vanessa labelled as “Russian”. “Yes, I am a Collarwearer,” she confirmed. “My name is Serena Firestone. You three must be Ringbearers. Our enemies.”

Jean-Jacques nodded warily, taking up position behind the women. “We saw your little display,” Serena continued, “outside, with the ogres. Most impressive, particularly you.” She indicated Vanessa with a disdainful finger. The Englishwoman shuddered. She strode towards the trio, who unconsciously shuffled closer to each other. Once she was a pace away, the gigantic woman leaned in to whisper: “But you cannot beat us.” She turned her vast, rippling back to them. Vanessa lost count of the muscles leaping up and out, begging for attention. “Tell them why, Big Boy.”

The Frenchman licked his lips nervously, looking wretched. “No man-made weapon can harm a Collarwearer.” On these words, the seed of an idea took root in Vanessa’s mind. She stored it for later, taking care not to change her expression. Dominique’s face, though, screwed up in anger – she took a step forward and punched Serena hard in the small of her back.

Pounds of rocky muscle delivered a blow that would have felled an elephant, but the only effect was that the Collarwearer took a step forward. As Dominique was winding up for a second punch, she whipped round, her black eyes even darker. She gritted her teeth, planted her feet and backhanded the Frenchwoman full in the face.

Blood arced forwards as Dominique flew back through the air, swiping Jean-Jacques as she went. She landed on her butt ten feet from where she had been standing. An ugly expression settled on her face as she spat out a couple of teeth, which her Ring regrew. “There’s no need to fight,” Serena whispered, underlining her words with an obvious second meaning. “Particularly as a fist is, of course, man-made. Now, follow me. I will take you to Fidelius. He will be delighted to know that I have captured you.”

“Don’t resist,” Jean-Jacques urged, pointlessly. Vanessa whipped round and glared at him. The Frenchman had the good grace to lower his head. “I have let you down,” he whispered as they fell in step behind their gigantic foe. A tear rolled silently down his cheek, but his expression did not change. “We aren’t beaten yet,” Vanessa said grimly.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Serena led the three down a tunnel that had been cut out of the rock. It was fifteen feet tall and ten feet wide, arched at the top, like a train tunnel. Torches hanging on brackets lit the way, meaning there was no need for magic. All four had fallen silent, struggling with their thoughts. They moved in single file and had unconsciously arranged themselves as biggest to smallest. The Ringbearers were still carrying their weapons, clinging so hard that their hands were numb.

It was Serena that broke the silence in her deep, guttural voice. “She doesn’t know, does she?” she said over her shoulder to Jean-Jacques. “I – I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, with only a trace of defiance. Vanessa frowned. “Short one!” Serena called, eyes flickering maliciously at her. “My name is Vanessa Keates,” she muttered. “Very well, Vanessa,” she spat, “do you know where Big Boy here spent the night?” “His name is Jean-Jacques,” she smiled pleasantly. “Your names are of less than no importance!” Serena shouted.

Vanessa half-smiled, aware that on some sort of cosmic score-keeping system somewhere she had pulled something back. “‘Less than no importance’?” she quoted. “Like, negative importance? Is that even possible?” Serena sighed. “I could crush you like a worm in half a heartbeat, but that is not my master’s will,” she said flatly. “Let me ask you again: do you know where Jean-Jacques spent the night?”

“Don’t,” the Frenchman whispered, a real note of pleading in his voice. “He slept with Dominique,” she finished, and flashed a sickening smile over her shoulder at the stunned Englishwoman. Vanessa felt a sudden wave of disorientation, as if she was standing on the edge of a precipice, filled with shock and nausea. A lot of things began to slot into place. Her physical ring glowed fire red.

“You slimy cow,” Vanessa hissed at the waves of silky brown hair in front of her. “No wonder you wouldn’t listen to me! Treated me like a little kid!” Under the heat of her rage the Ring intoned the words “Do not act rashly, Vanessa”, but it was already too late. She had brought the pommel of her blade down, hard, onto Dominique’s skull.

There was a sickening crunch and a second blood fountain as the Frenchwoman crumpled. Jean-Jacques moved to hold Vanessa back as Serena tended to the wound. His huge twitching muscles held her easily in place. Her breasts heaved against his chest as she pushed the Frenchman against the rough walls of the cavern, causing an entirely natural reaction. “Couldn’t resist, could you?” she hissed.

“No,” he said, in a very small voice. “She is spellbinding, that’s how she works.” There was a pause. “She is concussed,” Serena purred, “but she will live.” The hulking woman straightened. “Lucky for you,” she said, drawing a finger across Vanessa’s cheek. “My master would never have believed that you had hit her, but I always kill my enemies.” “She deserved it,” Vanessa spat. Anger pulsed hard through her veins – she could hardly hear her Ring begging for calm.

“Slag,” she said, aiming a kick at Dominique’s side. Her foot came off worst, but she was too fired up to let it show. Jean-Jacques whirled the Englishwoman’s body around, uncomfortably trapping her against the walls of the passage. “You will calm down,” he hissed, veins popping up through his arms to show the effort it was taking to restrain the wild woman.

“Was she good?” Vanessa hissed. “Did you get a good feel of those heaving baubles of justice? Did you dream about her?” Serena loomed behind the Frenchman and slapped her smallest prisoner, business-like, in the face. The shock twisted her head and rammed her left cheek into the wall. Blood spattered her face. White hot rage exploded within her, turning her face ugly. “I swear I will see you dead!” she spat, voice rising at every new word.

Serena smiled, raising an indifferent eyebrow. “You are the smallest, weakest and ugliest of those present,” the Collarwearer drawled. “You will do nothing of the sort.” The fallen Frenchwoman wisely chose that moment to come to. She groaned loudly, feeling the wound on her head. She stood up, with Serena’s help, and went over to Vanessa, whose cheek was decorated with a thick scarlet line. “Let her go,” she nodded to Jean-Jacques, who reluctantly stepped aside.

The taller woman pressed her dramatic chest into her colleague’s. She smiled sweetly, two parts saccharine to one part fakeness. “I forgive you,” she declared. A shudder ran through Vanessa’s body. Her Ring finally made it through the fog that had clouded her brain. “If you do not calm yourself immediately I will render you unconscious,” it intoned, anger lacing its usual monotone.

“Sorry,” she thought. “That does not even begin to cover what you have just done,” the Ring replied haughtily. “Hey!” she growled back. “I need you to support me.” The Ring stopped communicating, its physical presence turning gunmetal grey. “Now that that’s sorted out, shall we continue?” Serena said brightly, gesturing onward. All wearing scowls, they followed their captor in sullen silence.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

The journey lasted ten minutes or so. Serena brought them out into an enormous hollow, much larger than the one in which they’d first met her. A huge chorus of monks covered most of the rough ground ahead of them. Vanessa guessed that there were maybe three thousand of them, all dressed in the same black hooded robe, all stood round a central pillar. On the top of it – some twenty feet up – was a throne. Someone was sitting on it, holding a large staff made of well-worked and polished wood. He or she had their back to them for the moment.

The worst part was the chanting. All of the monks were singing, as one, the words “Winter without end” in French, over and over again. There didn’t seem to be any other words and it was deafening. For a stomach-churning moment, Vanessa wondered if the key to lifting the enchantment was to silence the monks by killing them. She shuddered. “Ring,” she thought questioningly. Her magical companion failed to respond. “Fine, sulk! Very mature!” she pouted. Serena separated from them, walking through the crowd of holy men to get to the central pillar.

She spread her arms up in supplication to the person on the throne. “Fidelius!” she cried. The chair twisted slowly. Its occupant was definitely male. He was naked too. “I have the Ringbearers!” she crowed. “They were surprisingly quick to surrender, unlike the fire and brimstone ones of yore!” The man stood and jumped to the floor in one smooth movement, scattering the nearest monks. It sent up a huge dust cloud, stopping a few of them singing. He scowled madly and, with one deep breath, sucked up the dust. Then, turning to the ceiling, he breathed it upwards in one thin, continuous stream. The chanting returned to full strength.

He strode towards them, using the staff as a walking stick, though he obviously didn’t need to. He was built like a rhino, nearly as wide as he was tall, all glistening muscle waiting to explode into action. Thighs like barrels, arms like cannons, a chest that could have doubled as a barn door. He too wore the black leather collar indicating his status as a Collarwearer around a neck as thick as Vanessa’s arm. His black hair was slicked back. His eyes were even worse than Serena’s: they were totally white. His staff seemed to shift unreally as Vanessa looked at it, as if it were somehow alive.

“My name is Fidelius Thunderbolt,” he announced, looking at each of the Ringbearers in turn. Despite the fact that he was whispering, his voice carried perfectly, again with that Russian accent. “I am a Collarwearer, like Serena here.” She appeared at his shoulder and ran a hand across his chest, drinking in the incredible power she found. He lowered his head slightly to kiss her pulsing forearm.

He flicked an eye at the terrified trio. “You three are a liability and must be stripped of your powers,” he announced. The Ringbearers backed away as he lifted his staff. A pulse of purple light appeared at its tip and, even as they turned to run away, it shot three thick, shining beams that held them in place. The eldritch glow surrounded their bodies and then sank inside them like water into a sponge. Vanessa’s eyes widened as she found herself shrinking.

“No!” she cried. “Oh yes, my dear,” Fidelius whispered. Her precious, beautiful muscles folded in on themselves, deflating like a football with a slow puncture. Her strong jaw slackened whilst her breasts started to weigh heavily on her chest. Her lats shrank as her back muscles popped away. Her rippling stomach lost its shape and burst outwards as a large mound of thick, veiny fat appeared, pushing her navel into an unpleasant shape. Vanessa started to cry as her weakened legs buckled, forcing her to the floor. She lost the four inches she’d gained over that magical weekend, and then it was done: she was back to the mousy, horribly unfit and directionless Vanessa Keates of eighteen months before. “Ring!” she thought desperately. “Ring, answer me! I really need you!”

Fidelius cackled like an evil genius in a cartoon, his creepy laughter echoing around the chamber, amplifying until it was terrifying. “It can’t hear you, my dear,” he crowed. “We have made it so.” Through tear-filled eyes she looked round at the others, who had suffered similar fates. She gasped at the girl who’d taken Dominique’s place, the one she must have been before she had used her Ring to change herself: she was one of the least appealing women the blonde had ever come across.

The busty warrior maiden had given way to a skinny – possibly anorexic – scrap of a girl whose ribs nearly poked through her skin. Her mammoth breasts had melted into nothingness: two dark brown misshapen areolae marked their passing.  Her limbs were like matchsticks; Vanessa thought she might even have trouble supporting her own weight. Her hair had turned lank and greasy, sticking to her face and shoulders. Her enchanting eyes were now hollow and dead, surrounded by dark bags. Her physical ring was almost slipping off her finger, having turned the same gunmetal grey as Vanessa’s.

Jean-Jacques had been completely stripped of his meaty muscles but other than that had not changed much from how he had appeared when they had first met. The difference was his eyes: previously alive and calculating, now dull and lifeless. His physical ring had gone grey too. He looked around him like a frightened rabbit, complete terror etched into every movement. As Vanessa looked in horror, he pissed himself in fear. She shut her eyes and looked away, trying to fight the tsunami of nausea in her flabby gut, but it was no use.

Tears brought great shudders to her soft body. Standing over them, the Collarwearers smiled victoriously. Serena threw a robe and belt at each of them. “Put these on,” she ordered. “You’re making me sick.” They did as they were told. Dominique was dwarfed by her robe, just as Vanessa’s had a little trouble containing her girth. “Take them away,” Fidelius commanded. Before she left, Serena kissed him deeply, exploring him with her tongue. She drooled down her chin.

Serena pulled her face away with a smack. “You,” she said disgustedly. “Follow me.” She paused just ten paces down the trail they’d walked down to get to Fidelius and waved her hand, palm flat, in a circle. A section of the rock lifted up like a portcullis, revealing a space the size of a bedroom. “In,” she pointed, and smiled wickedly as the trio did as they were told.

She waved her hand in the same way, causing the rock to close in on them. Then it went dark.

— To Be Continued —

I can't decide if there'll be one or two more parts, but either way, the end is in sight! I hope you liked reading this chapter, even though it contains some, er, whatever the opposite of FMG is (Female Muscle Shrinking? Female Muscle Loss?)! :-[

[Fonk]

OK, this means I'm all caught up! I hope you like this part.

—————————–

5 January 2002

Two years of training!

We went to the cinema tonight.

Whilst we were in the queue, a rude man jumped the queue and slid in front of us. Sam said to him that we were all waiting our turn.

The man looked down at him and turned round without saying anything. He was a brawny sort of man, so Sam didn't pursue it.

He dropped his head quietly.

I felt bad for him.

I don't know what came over me. I grabbed the guy by the neck and lifted him up. I waited calmly for him to stop struggling, smiling all the while: all I'd done was close my fist to crush him in his clothes. Then I carried him to the back of the queue. There I put him down on the ground silently.

I loved it! The guy had gone white, paralysed by fear! I still shiver just writing it down. What a feeling of power! I could have asked him for anything, this big buffoon would have done it without arguing. The next time I'll ask him to lick my boots in front of everyone!

Sam didn't say anything the whole night. I wonder if he's scared of me?

            —–

12 February 2002

Sam asked if he could come and watch me train. He asked me, all day, about what weights I used, the exercises that I did. In fact, he wanted to see what I could do.

I can't wait for tomorrow! Which muscle group should I work? Bah! I'll do a bit of everything. He won't be disappointed.

            —–

13 February 2002

This is how it went:

As soon as we arrived, he loaded the seated press bar with three twenty kilo weights on both sides to make a total of a hundred and forty five kilos. That's what I'd used last time. He still surprised me. What a memory! He looked at me and smiled.

"That's a hundred and forty five kilos, isn't it?"

"That'll do for my first set."

I was surprised how easy it was to lift the bar. I even did a few more reps than usual.

Then he added a weight to both sides to make it a hundred and eighty five kilos. I made sure to concentrate fully and isolate the muscles as much as possible.

Sam didn't say anything. This time, there was eighty kilos on both sides of the bar.

I sat down on the bench.

"Could you add a weight to both sides?" I asked him.

He quickly did the calculation in his head. Then he went white.

"Two hundred and twenty five kilos! But… the champions only lift two hundred when they're training!"

"Maybe so, darling. But then the champions don't have these!"

I lifted my arms and contracted my biceps as his eyes went wide.

"Not bad, eh?"

The poor guy was taken with the shivers. I felt his fingers shake when he tried to cover my muscle with his little hand.

"Go on, hurry up!"

He went to look for some weights and slid them onto the bar. It was then that I noticed he'd got an erection. I still shiver just thinking about it. My muscles, my power were turning him on.

I did my set thinking that he was fantasising about my body. The bar practically felt weightless.

When I finished, I got up immediately. I turned the bench. Then I took the bar with both hands and carefully put it on the floor. My muscles had swollen to their maximum.

Sam seemed very embarrassed. I asked him what had happened. He cleared his throat to speak.

"I… I can't help you carry the bar: there's a hundred kilos on both sides!"

"Oh! Don't worry about it, honey. You seem to have forgotten… these!"

And then I did a superb double biceps pose. Sam must have felt his legs going because he sat down on the bench.

I picked the bar up and got into a squatting position. I looked at Sam via the reflection of the mirror in front of me and reassured him.

"This is just the warm-up set! For the next one you're going to have to get some weights!"

He ate me with his eyes. It was at that moment that I started my set. I pulled it off meticulously, keeping my eyes on Sam. I wanted to be sure he was looking at me.

I didn't go down on the last rep. I did a clean-and-jerk instead, keeping the bar above my head for a moment.

Sam looked down. I wondered if I wasn't overdoing it. I dropped the bar, which landed loudly.

"Sam? Help me, please! Go and find three weights!" I ordered.

"Three weights?"

"Yes! That'll only make three hundred and forty five kilos!"

Sam didn't know what to say. He added three weights on and went to sit down whilst I did my set. When I'd finished he came up to me.

"Are you going to work your back?"

"Yes, but not with the machine. I'm going to do some dumbbell rows… get me a dumbbell."

"Just one?"

"Yes! The heaviest you can carry."

Sam went over to the dumbbell rack and tried to lift several dumbbells. Finally he came back, struggling with a twenty-five kilo dumbbell in both hands.

He could definitely have brought a heavier one but hadn't been able to lift it from the rack. He left it at my feet and went to sit on the bench, wheezing horribly. I didn't give him time to think.

"No, darling! I said the heaviest you could carry."

I took the dumbbell in one hand, doing a few curls, carried on.

"You see, it's far too light for rows. It's not even enough to work my biceps!" I paused. "Don't worry, I'll give it a go."

I went to the rack to put the dumbbell down and took another.

"There! That one's perfect."

"How much does that one weigh?"

"Sixty kilos! That's what I use for rows."

"Sixty kilos?!"

"Yes, honey – sixty kilos. Come on, get up! I need the bench!"

He went to sit on the inclined bench and watched to see how I'd get on.

I knew exactly what he was thinking at that moment because I had purposely picked the sixty kilo dumbbell: that's how much he weighs!

Between each set I purposely dropped it to make some noise. I wanted him to imagine the weight of the dumbbell.

On my last set, I actually threw it on the floor. The dumbbell rolled over to him.

"Can you bring it back over here, darling?"

He tried to lift it without bending his legs but hurt his back: he stopped trying to lift it.

He crouched down and tried again. He picked up the weight and even managed to keep it at knee level for a moment. But it was too heavy; he started to tremble and make faces and then had to let it go.

He was going to roll it towards me when I stopped him.

"Wait! You know, I've had an idea. I'm going to do some dumbbell presses. They're very good for the pectorals!"

I went to look for the matching dumbbell. I kept an eye on him throughout. He watched me take the weight from the rack in one hand and then looked down at the dumbbell at his feet.

When I came back to him, he hadn't moved one inch. I squatted down, rubbing against him, still looking at him. Then I stood up slowly, a dumbbell in each hand, sliding them the whole length of his trembling legs. He was still erect!

"Have you seen dumbbell presses, Sam? Watch me, honey!"

I laid down on the bench to do my first set.

CLING!  … CLANG! …

"What are you thinking about, darling?"

Sam looked at me like a child caught in the act. He didn't know what to say, so I answered for him.

"You're realising! Sixty kilos! I could lift a person!"

I took a cruel pleasure in making the dumbbells hit each other during each rep.

CLANG!

"How much do you weigh?" I continued.

I couldn't stop myself asking the question, even if I knew the response.

CLANG!

"Sixty kilos."

CLANG!

I didn't reply straightaway. I wanted to leave him hanging for a moment.

CLANG!

CLANG!

"Sixty kilos? Do you realise I'm lifting your own weight? Do you want to try?" I asked him.

"Try?"

CLANG!

"You understand!"

"But I could never lift that weight!"

"No, you idiot! I don't want you to lift the weight – just replace it!"

"What? But that's impossible! You wouldn't have the same grip! To be able to do it, you'd have to be able to do sets with… I dunno… ninety kilos!"

BRAOOMMM! BRAOOMMM!

I dropped the dumbbells and sat up on the bench.

"Come on, darling! Those were ninety kilo dumbbells! Look for yourself: it's written on them!"

"Erm… I don't understand…"

I pointed out the sixty kilo dumbbell that was resting at his feet again.

"Come here!" I ordered.

He didn't reply. He came towards me mechanically, as if he were hypnotised. I turned onto my back and asked him to sit astride me.

"Sit down! Put your feet on the bench. Higher! Where you put the bar! Don't worry, there's only us in the gym."

"Have you done it?"

"Yes!"

"Now, I'm going to lift you by your waist. When you're OK, you can let go. Let's do it!"

It really was too easy! Doing press-ups with my hundred and twenty eight kilos, that's more difficult!

Sam let go really quickly. He slowly moved his hand towards my arms and put his palms on my biceps. I felt his hands trembling. A trembling I knew well. Sandy did the same when she was in my arms, just before orgasming. I felt Sam's spasms and held on tight so he wouldn't lose balance. He closed his eyes. I must have hurt him, but that didn't stop him cumming. He closed his eyes and let fly with all he had.

I kept him in the air and waited for him to open his eyes again. Then I lowered him slowly and put him down next to me.

I contracted my abdominals and stood up with Sam on my chest. Then I took him by the feet and turned him around. He found himself on his back, wondering what I was going to do.

I stood up and sat astride him. I knew he was going to have trouble supporting my weight but that didn't stop me. I put my hands on the bench.

"Try and get free!" I ordered.

"What!"

"Try to leave! I'm not going to stop you!"

"Argh! You're hurting me! You know I can't! What are you trying to prove?"

"Are you trying to say I'm heavy? Don't worry. I take it as a compliment! I weight a hundred and twenty eight kilos and as you can see, a hundred and twenty eight kilos of muscle!" I paused. "Come on! Try to escape. I promise I won't hold you back."

I looked at him, smiling, twirling my hair with a finger.

"I can't!"

"So if I decided to rape you, you couldn't do anything about it, right?"

"You couldn't rape me!"

"Oh, really? And why not?"

I stood up and started to feel my arms and breasts in front of him. I pulled a double biceps and licked my arms slowly, keeping my eyes on him. His sex started to twitch.

SLURP! SMACK! I kept licking myself. I kissed my contracted muscles sweetly.

I caressed my breasts then, very gently, moved my hand down to my abdominals. I put a finger inside my sex and started to masturbate. His sex started to get hard.

I exaggerated my kisses.

SMACK! "Come on, answer me!" SMACK! "Look at these biceps! Aaaah! Oh, yeeees!" SMACK! "Tell me why I couldn't rape you!" SMACK! "Aaaah! It feels so good!"

His sex was standing to full attention. He was long and hard. He looked me in the eyes when he replied.

"Because I will be consenting every time you ask me. So, it won't ever be rape!"

"Oh! Yes! Yeeeeeeeeeeeeees!"

I stood up. I took Sam by the back of the head and shoved his head between my thighs. I felt violent spasms of pleasure, and I came.

"Aaaaaaaaaaah! Ah, yeeeeees!"

I let go of him and he fell onto the bench and went still.

He took more than an hour to come round. Which more or less gave me the time I needed to finish off my training.

When he came back to his senses, he sat up on the bench.

I sat next to him.

"Here!"

"What's this?"

"Can't you tell? It's a measuring tape! You're going to take my measurements!"

And these are the measurements that he took:

Height:      5'11"
Weight:      285 pounds
Measurements: 61B/29/35
Biceps:      24 inches
Thighs:      32 inches

Whilst we were there, I couldn't resist the temptation to measure him too. He didn't want to play but I didn't give him any choice.

Height:      5'8"
Weight:      131 pounds
Measurements: 32/33/32
Biceps:      10 inches
Thighs:      19 inches

My biceps are bigger than his thighs!

[Author]

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