[Fonk]

I'd like to apologise to scat – there's a little part of this chapter that I can't translate! :-[ There's a part where I've put "I, on the other hand, have a healthy tan and the arms of a bodybuilder." In the original French, it starts with "J'ai la tablette de chocolat", which I can only think means "I have a block of chocolate". But that doesn't make sense! It must be a saying of some kind… anyway, sorry!

—————–

27 May 2001

As I'm still growing, I've started putting heelpieces in Sam's shoes so he'll still be taller than me. But I think he's starting to suspect something. I'm going to have to tell him. Maybe tomorrow?

            —–

29 May 2001

Yesterday Sam announced that he's going to be working away for two months.

I decided to tell him everything about my growth. I put on heels and sexy underwear for the occasion.

I waited impatiently for him all day. When he arrived, instead of launching myself at him, I went upstairs and laid on the bed.

I said to myself that he would notice the height difference less if I was lying down.

We made love all night.

I don't dare write down what we did, or rather, what I did. He didn't have any choice – he had to submit. Even if he seemed to like it, it feels like I violated him.

He did not have control at any moment. At no moment did he do make even the slightest gesture without my permission. I held him by his wrists, by his ankles. I crushed him between my thighs, in my arms, against my pectorals or even with my superpowerful hands. At no point did his pathetic efforts get in the way of my movements.

And yet he tried. The poor guy!

He couldn't even struggle – my muscles crushed his that much. I only felt little undulations on my skin when he tried to move a muscle to escape.

At one point, whilst he was lying flat on his back, I took both his ankles with one hand and put the other on his jaw. Then I approached him slowly and licked his sex softly. He started to wriggle about. I spread my arms. I felt like I was stretching him out, as if he was getting taller. His trembling fits got weaker and weaker. I spread my arms further. I heard the bones in his legs cracking, around his knees. His muscles had lengthened and seemed all stiff. He couldn't move, except for his arms, which were fiercely working at my hand to free his jaw.

I used him like a sex toy all night. I hope he liked it. In any case, he had five orgasms.

In the end, I told him everything about my growth. He didn't react.

            —–

30 May 2001

Today Sam couldn't go to work. First, he got up at midday; then he could hardly move. All his muscles hurt. All his joints cracked when he tried to move. I said I'd rub some Deep Heat into him, but he didn't want me to. He spent the day locked in our room.

Maybe I went too far last night? It must have been a blow to his ego, that's for sure!

I hope he still loves me!

            —–

8 June 2001

Sam left for his placement last week.

I didn't tell him that I've found a coach.

I've decided to enter a competition. After all, the girls I see in the magazines aren't as muscular as me. If I train myself in a more rigourous way, with the coach, I'm sure I can progress.

The only thing that worries me is Sam's reaction when he sees the results.

            —–

24 July 2001

Sam came back home. I noticed that he'd made use of his spare time there by going to the gym. He is more toned. However, the changes aren't noticeable. He's just as slender and still has his little pot belly.

            —–

25 July 2001

Sam has started asking himself serious questions about our relationship, but he doesn't dare talk to me about them.

As I'm stronger than him, I do all the hard work around the house, leaving him the day-to-day tasks. He doesn't complain but I think he must feel useless in the role of man about the house. Of course, the man about the house is a very peculiar phrase!

For example, today, he couldn't get the car out of the garage: I'd left a large flowerbox in the way of the door. As he couldn't lift it, or drag it, he had to wait till I came back from my jog to move it. I lifted it easily and held it in the air with one hand.

"You see, it wasn't that hard!"

He turned his heel and left.

I think he cried. I shouldn't have made fun of him.

To make him forgive me, I put on the clingy red dress that he likes. It's cost two hundred euros to get it altered!

That's because I've put on more muscle again!

Height:      5'8"
Weight:      211 pounds
Measurements: 51B/29/35
Biceps:      19 inches
Thighs:      29 inches

I think he's starting to fantasise about my body.

            —–

29 July 2001

Sam asked me if he could come with me to the gym again. I'm sure he wants to show me that he can lift more than the first time.

This time, I think I'm going to do my exercises with the usual weights. To hell with his ego!

After all, with biceps nineteen inches around, does he really think I'll be happy lifting beginners' weights?

I'm more muscular than most male bodybuilders!

            —–

30 July 2001

Training:

Sam was very enthusiastic.

As soon as we arrived, he loaded the seated press bar with a twenty kilo weight on both sides, making it sixty-five in total. That's what I'd used the first time. I was surprised he could still remember. That's proof he's not completely turned off by what I'm doing.

I told him that I'd made progress and asked him to add twenty kilos to both sides to do a warm-up set of a hundred and five.

It was easy! I didn't even have to concentrate.

For the next sets, he added a weight to both sides to make a total of a hundred and forty-five. That was harder, but I concentrated and did the set with perfect form. I know he liked it: you could tell just by looking at him.

Mostly when he understood that there was sixty kilos on both sides of the bar; his own weight.

It's been a long time since he last put his hands on my arms. Even when we make love, he tries not to touch them or spend too long on them. He must be afraid that I'll get him to compare them with mine.

Also, now that I think about it, he hardly touches me at all.

            —–

31 July 2001

Yesterday was too good! I hope he'll come back and do more training with me. I loved the feeling of superiority. I've got to test it again and again.

            —–

2 August 2001

Sam doesn't seem too keen on the idea of going to the seaside this year, even though we've gone every year since we met. I think he's scared of wearing a swimming costume next to me. He's put on a bit of weight. He's as white as an aspirin tablet and his arms are stick-thin from lack of exercise. I, on the other hand, have a healthy tan and the arms of a bodybuilder. Tomorrow I'll try to convince him again.

            —–

5 August 2001

Sam gave in and said we could go to the seaside! I went and ordered a bikini from a site that Sandy recommended.

            —–

13 August 2001

Sam still hasn't come training with me. He's scared of looking silly.

We're going to the seaside tomorrow!

I measured myself before we left:

Height:      5'9"
Weight:      230 pounds
Measurements: 56B/29/35
Biceps:      21 inches
Thighs:      32 inches

            —–

14 August 2001

Hooray! We're here! We're staying at a campsite near to the beach!

For the first time I put up the tent: Sam couldn't put the tent pegs in the ground with the little wooden mallet he packed with the tent.

Of course, he didn't want to admit it, especially when he saw me drive them in by hand.

Tomorrow, Sandy arrives. Ben and her have the spot next to ours.

We're going to have a great time.

            —–

15 August 2001

Sandy arrived tonight. She's just as pretty as she ever was!

She has a dream body but I don't envy it anymore. I even think it's the opposite now!

I can still see her face when she first saw me. She must have stayed, slack-jawed, for five minutes, despite the fact that I sent her some photos a few months ago. I can't wait to show my bikini off to her tomorrow!

            —–

Same day

Sandy couldn't wait until tomorrow! She pounced when Ben and Sam went off to the pub and slid into my tent.

She brought the melon I wanted to eat for breakfast tomorrow. It seems that she'd seen girls who could crush a melon between their thighs on the Internet and she wanted me to try. At first I refused but, when she insisted, I had a go.

I sat on the ground, elbows back on the ground, and Sandy put the melon, as big as my head, between my thighs. She looked at me nervously.

"Go on!" she cried.

I rubbed my legs against the melon to relax my muscles and then it began. My muscles expanded slowly under Sandy's bedazzled gaze. They slowly surrounded the big fruit and started to inexorably apply pressure.

The inside of my thighs are an erogenous zone and I soon started to feel pleasure rise in me. The more pressure I put on, the stronger the sensations got. I had to bite my lip to not moan in pleasure. I contracted my abdominals so I wasn't forced back and put my hands on my thighs: I wanted to feel my muscles getting harder.

"Yes! Go on!" Sandy shouted.

I crossed my legs and pushed with all my might. My quadriceps became enormous. For the first time I saw striations appear along my muscles. And… SPLASHHH! The big melon exploded into several pieces. I didn't see it go: shame!

I'd closed my eyes to drink in all the sensations that my blood-filled muscles gave me. Oh, it was so good! And I'd thought it was stupid. I'd crush melons all night long to feel that power and pleasure again!

Then she wanted me to undress so she could see me naked. I must say that, in candlelight, it was very impressive. The glints of light seemed to add to the size of my muscles. The shadows accentuated their forms. My whole body seemed to move in a torrid dance whenever the light flickered.

She asked me to pose, to flex, to make my muscles swell. Then she wanted to touch me. I felt her hands on my biceps, feeling the muscle, massaging it, covering it with kisses.

She moved her hands down to my abs and caressed them. Then she made a fist and asked if she could punch them. I said that it was a weird idea but she could try it.

She started gently but started to up the power of her punches. As it didn't have any effect on me, she hit me with all her strength. Then she started shouting.

"Oh… yes!"

I noticed that her nipples had swollen and hardened because they were pointing through her bikini top. Then she closed her eyes and started to moan quietly.

"Oh! Yes… yes! Yeeeeeees!"

And it was then that I saw her hand in her bikini bottoms, slowly caressing her sex. I jumped on her.

"Stop! Don't do that!" I shouted.

I grabbed her by the wrists and laid her on her back. She smiled at me, and I knew that she had had an orgasm.

It had happened so quickly!

Deep down, I wasn't even angry. In fact, I was really excited.

I knelt down in front of her and grabbed her by the hair. Then, to get her back, I stuck her lips next to my sex and ordered her to lick it.

I had never felt so much pleasure before. I saw her fight to breathe but I kept up my pressure. I heard her choking but I pressed her head against my clitoris. Then I pushed her head closer, closer, closer to my sex. And there was nothing she could do!

Oh! Yes! It was so good.

When I'd orgasmed, I let her go. Sandy had probably been unconscious for a long time.

I laid down next to her for a moment, and then carried her back to her tent.

            —–

16 August 2001

This morning, when we woke up, Sandy didn't remember anything.

While we ate lunch she only said that she'd had a strange dream and didn't want to talk about it because it concerned me.

She pointed out to me the ever growing number of gawpers who were gathering around our tents. It's true: we were both in bikinis, exposing our bodies to the sun… and the campers.

After lunch we both went to the building where the women's showers were and shared the same cubicle.

I noticed that she wouldn't look me in the eye, that she was uneasy, trapped with me, in the cramped cubicle. Despite that, I did notice that she couldn't tear her eyes away from my arms.

I think she was falling in love with me… or my muscles! I don't know.

As for me, last night's experience had been a revelation. And, looking at her, I could only think of playing dirty.

I ran my fingers through my hair under the shower, as slowly as possible, painstakingly contracting my biceps to stimulate her desire. Her reaction was immediate: she turned and discreetly squashed her chest against the wall. Then, with a barely perceptible but terribly sensual swaying, she made little circles to massage her two big breasts. I saw her arch her back slightly, just enough to move her pelvis away from the wall. Then she put her middle finger in her sex.

How could she guess that I'd done it on purpose, that I was devouring her with my eyes?

Whilst I stroked my sex just looking at her, I had a sudden impulse.

I turned Sandy to me with a little flick. I grabbed her wrists with one hand and thrust her against the wall, arms held above her head. Then, I stuck my free hand against her sex and violently pushed my finger inside. Then she found herself four inches off the floor. This time I saw fear in her eyes.

I leaned towards her, smiling, and kissed her greedily. I felt her muscles relax as she abandoned herself to me. She lifted her legs slowly to wrap them around my waist and stuck her tongue into my mouth. We stayed like that for a moment, getting drunk on the tastes and smells of each other.

Then I took Sandy by the waist and lifted her gently, keeping her stuck against the wall. She grimaced. Her sides hurt. But she still wanted me. When her sex was within range, I covered it in kisses and then long licks of my tongue. I began to feel tremblings and then spasms in my arms from holding up Sandy's entire body. Suddenly she gave a long groan of pleasure and I let her slide down the length of the wet wall. She fell to her knees in front of me, head down, long blonde hair glued to her sweaty muscles.

"It wasn't a dream, was it?"

I put a foot next to her lips and made her raise her head.

"No, Sandy, it wasn't a dream."

"But – "

"Shhhhh! Be quiet!"

I sat on the washbasin, spread my legs and started to masturbate with my middle finger.

Sandy came up to me. She stood up and caressed my thighs.

"Ooooh! Tanya! They're huuuge!"

She put her mouth on them, looked at me questioningly, and then licked them longingly with her tongue. One lick here, one there. It was so good! I was going to orgasm any minute!

Even then, I felt frustrated. I needed something else!

I wanted to dominate Sandy! I couldn't help myself! The memory of the night before's episode was still too fresh in my mind.

I grabbed her hair and forced her head back.

"Forgive me, Sandy!"

I stuck her mouth against my sex and immediately felt the first spasms wash over me. My thighs enveloped her head and I closed my legs forcefully. Sandy started to fight. She hit my built quadriceps with her fists. My muscles were so hard that I felt her blows like tender caresses. I ejaculated into her face and spread my legs. She fell back like a rag doll.

I stood up.

We looked at each other without saying anything, just caressing each other's hair.

Finally we did what we'd come in to the place to do: we showered.

[Fonk]

More from Tanya's diary!

——————–

3 November 2000

Soon it'll be a year since I started at the gym!

… and six months already since Sam stopped touching me and I don't know why.

Maybe it's because of my physique? I have to say that I've put on more muscle.

Maybe because he feels that I'm stronger than him and he doesn't want to admit it? He keeps saying it's silly girly exercise but I don't think he really thinks so.

Anyway, he doesn't want to talk about it. I'm going to give him some time. I'll see.

            —–

5 November 2000

This morning Sam was furious. He had to take a shower with cold water: the hot water tap was blocked. I hope it's not a big problem because he's going to say it was my fault: it worked perfectly when I showered.

If it doesn't work tomorrow, I'll shower at the gym after training.

Anyway, he promised to repair it tonight.

            —–

6 November 2000

I noticed that I've gotten four centimetres taller!

I noticed when I couldn't see my hair in the mirror we've got in the bathroom. I went to the doctor, and he said he's never seen anything like it.

"Growing again at the age of twenty… it's just not possible!" he declared. He didn't believe me.

Whatever's happened, I've decided that I'll wear smaller heels so that Sam doesn't get embarrassed. He's always been taller than me and I don't know how he would react if I was as tall as him.

If I keep growing, I won't wear heels at all.

Oh yes! Sam repaired the tap.

            —–

17 November 2000

I put on the wrong T-shirt this morning – it must have been one of Sam's.

I noticed straightaway because it was tight around the chest and shoulders. The sleeves, which are baggy on Sam, had trouble containing my arms. I decided to measure myself.

Height:      5'6"
Weight:      138 pounds
Measurements: 32B/29/35
Biceps:      15 inches
Thighs:      23 inches

My arms are fifteen inches around! They are much bigger than Sam's, but I don't know exactly how much his measure. I really want to ask him but I'm afraid he'll go in a mood. Not only are my arms bigger but they are much harder and more defined.

In the evening Sam said to me that he'd had enough of showering with cold water for a week! It was weird because I've been showering with hot water all the time.

I think I know what's up! Tomorrow I'll see if I'm right.

            —–

18 November 2000

At breakfast I took a bottle of fruit juice from the fridge. I took a sip and put it on the table, putting the lid back on tightly. Sam tried to open it. He went red. He hurt his hand. But he couldn't do it!

As soon as he put the bottle down, I took it and opened it without any effort. I took a big swig from the bottle and put the lid back on. Then I put it back on the table, as if I hadn't noticed anything.

I knew that Sam was going to pick up the bottle again and so I'd tightened just as hard as before.

He tried again and, of course, couldn't do it!

"Do you want me to open it, honey?"

"I'm sure you've done something!"

"Something? I don't understand!"

"If you think I haven't seen your little game, you're wrong!"

"Come on, honey! If you can't do it, it's only because you're not as strong as me!" And, making word into action, I opened the bottle.

"Stronger than me? You are not and you never will be!"

"Come on, darling! Look at me! You don't think that these muscles are just for show?"

"Honey, your girly exercise hasn't done a thing! You're still a girl!"

"Oh! And sir is so macho!" I paused. "What would you say if this girl asked you to arm-wrestle?"

"I'd say it was silly!"

"Sam! I want us to arm-wrestle!"

"Are you giving the orders now?"

"So you'd obviously prefer that we do it when Sandy and Ben are here? I don't want to make you look silly. I just want to show you that I'm stronger than you."

"OK! All right!"

Sam put his elbow on the table and I did the same. but he didn't give me time to get ready. He immediately put my forearm on the table.

He stood up instantly, looking satisfied.

"You see! I'm the strongest!"

I didn't say anything because I knew he'd cheated because he was scared of the contest.

I'll have to do it another time.

            —–

25 November 2000

Today we planted bushes in the garden.

Sam started to dig a hole to plant the first tree. The ground is dry at the moment and he had trouble getting the spade into the ground. He pushed on it with his foot, but it refused to go in. I had the impression he was scratching at the ground instead of digging. Little by little, pulling out a handful of earth each time, he managed to dig a hole about twelve inches deep.

And that was from more than half an hour's work. He stopped and said that would be enough. But I insisted that he carry on, reminding him what the guy at the DIY store had said: the hole should be at least two feet deep.

He handed me the spade.

"So why don't you carry on?"

I took the spade and placed it at the edge of the hole. I got a grip on the handle and pushed with all my strength. My arms went hard and started to expand. The muscles revealed themselves slowly. They continued to grow for a moment and began to separate out. I could tell Sam was looking at me, or rather my arms. Thanks to the sweat they started to shine, increasing their definition. All of a sudden the ground gave up and the spade was nearly swallowed whole. I lifted out a shovelful of earth and carried on. In two minutes I'd moved four times more soil than he had in half an hour.

Sam said that I had good technique.

He didn't want to admit that I am stronger than him, but said I should continue to dig whilst he planted the trees.

I wonder how he must feel. He must know that I am stronger than him. Why does he refuse to admit it? Of course, it must be difficult for a man to admit that he is weaker than his wife. He just needs time!

I noticed that he spied on me for the rest of the afternoon. He seemed hypnotised by my arms and thighs. The more I worked, the more I sweated. Beads of sweat started to run down my inflated muscles. From time to time I wiped my forehead with my forearm, and shook my arms to get the sweat out. My muscles were bigger and bigger, harder and harder, more and more shiny. I even felt excited when I brushed my fingers against my burning skin. I passed my fingers under my T-shirt. My abdominals were hard and prominent. My fingers traced their shape, sliding over the slick muscles.

My T-shirt was soaked through. I decided to take it off.

I took it by the waist and slowly lifted it over my shoulders. As it was stuck to my skin, I had to wriggle out of it. My abdominals shook. They stretched and contracted in turn. The sweat made them shine.

I know Sam's eyes were glued to them. I heard him murmuring.

"Oh my G – "

"What was that, darling?"

"No, no! Nothing!"

I wonder what he thinks of my body. Does he think it excite him? Does he think it's monstrous?

I daren't ask him. I'm afraid of what he'll say. It might be better to wait till he's accepted the idea that I'm stronger than him, even if I'm a girl… and his, to boot!

            —–

15 February 2001

Sam asked me if I got embarrassed when people look at me in the street and make comments about my physique. In reality, I know full well that it's him who's embarrassed. He can't stand the comparison: I look like a female bodybuilder.

Last week we were in a department store when I heard a woman speaking to her daughter.

"Look!" she whispered. "Look how thin he is… and look at his wife!"

I know he heard but I carried on looking at clothes as if nothing had happened. I didn't want to make it worse by intervening.

            —–

21 February 2001

Sam's not made fun of me for a few weeks now. But he's become distant. I think he's gotten jealous.

He feels weak. He feels ugly. Well, I've never felt so beautiful and I don't hide it. I'm going to have to get him to come training with me.

            —–

2 March 2001

I grew again. I'll have to wear flats now.

            —–

15 March 2001

This morning I happened on that T-shirt of Sam's, the one I put on by mistake. I really want to try it on but I'm scared I'll rip it apart. I've put on a lot of muscle these past few months. I'm even thinking about entering a bodybuilding contest!

"So what if I burst it," I thought. "One less thing to iron!"

So I didn't hesitate. I put the T-shirt around my neck, taking the precaution of stretching it to its maximum. I heard a few rips when I put my arms through, just before rolling it out over my abs. The T-shirt didn't bunch up anywhere – it felt like I had a second skin. This time it was really tight! In any case, I noticed that I no longer had to iron my T-shirts. They would straighten out by themselves if I put them on my muscular body! Sam would have to iron his own!

At the same time, I measured my biceps again. They are seventeen inches.

I look like a bodybuilding champion!

Height:      5'8"
Weight:      165 pounds
Measurements: 45B/29/35
Biceps:      17 inches
Thighs:      26 inches

            —–

17 March 2001

Sandy and Ben came over for dinner.

I didn't miss the chance to ask for an arm-wrestle. Sandy agreed readily.

She made a place on the table and put her elbow on it. Her well formed biceps immediately drew the attention of the two boys, who looked at it jealously.

And then I came in and put my elbow on the table. Everyone looked at my arms straightaway. I'd put on Sam's T-shirt, the one that was so tight on me. The fabric showed off every one of my muscles and seemed ready to burst at any moment. However, I made sure not to contract them. Next to my arms, Sandy's seemed ridiculous. I didn't dare imagine what the boys' arms would look like next to mine.

Sandy sighed dreamily, and then got all enthusiastic.

"Oh my God! Tanya! They're incredible! Ben, have you seen these?"

"Are you ready?" I asked. "Say 'Go' when you want to start!"

"OK… go!"

Sandy's biceps contracted instantly, forming a dense and prominent ball. She gritted her teeth and started to grunt a little.

I looked at her, smiling, but she was only looking at one thing: my biceps!

They had started to draw in and slowly expand under the fabric of the T-shirt that was already too small. Soon the stitching stretched out, making little cracking noises so that everyone could guess what was going to happen. All eyes were fixed on my biceps.

I turned my wrist and CRAAAAAAAAK! The sleeve literally tore in two, revealing the muscle to Sandy and the boys' dumbfounded gaze.

I brought Sandy's hand to the table, not forcing it, controlling the movement from beginning to end, so that Sandy could tell how vain her efforts were.

I lifted my other arm in victory. Then I flexed it just at the moment that Sam recognised his T-shirt.

I contraced my muscle.

"What I really need, honey, is a proper challenge! To arm-wrestle against a man!"

CRAAAAAAAAK! My biceps came through the material!

"Against a man like you!"

Sandy didn't give him time to reply.

"Oh, yes! The husband against the wife! Very exciting. You can't turn her down!"

She stood up and pushed Sam into her chair. I asked Sam again.

"So, darling! Do you take up this challenge?"

"I beat you once, I can do it again!"

"Very well, my love!"

I put my arm on the table first. This time I voluntarily contracted my biceps to impress him. My arm seemed bigger than before. Sam hesitated for a moment, but put his elbow on the table.

Even contracted it was difficult to see his biceps as he was so small and undefined. Sam went red. His arm seemed ridiculously small compared to mine.

"Are you ready honey? Say 'Go' when you – "

Sam didn't wait for me to finish. He pushed with all his strength but my arm didn't move.

I contracted all my muscles and let him try for a little while, smiling at Sandy and Ben. Then I broke the silence.

"Honey! I'm still waiting for you to say 'Go'!"

"Go!"

BLAM!

In a fraction of a second, I'd put his hand on the table and then brought it back upright.

"Alright, darling! I'm going to give you another chance."

I turned to Ben.

"Ben! You're left-handed, aren't you?"

"Yes, why?"

I put my left arm on the table.

"You can start when you want!"

"But… what about Sam? You haven't finished!"

"You mean you want to arm-wrestle both of them – at the same time? One on each arm?" Sandy cried.

"Come on, Ben, don't make me wait! Sam's starting to get tired!"

Ben sat down and put his elbow on the table. He glanced at Sandy.

"Go!" he said.

I know that Sandy can easily beat Ben in an arm-wrestling contest. So I definitely knew he had no chance against me. Ben and Sandy both knew it too. I was happy just to tense my muscles and keep them both in check. It was really too easy.

Sam and Ben tried with all their might to get my arms to move, but couldn't do it. They both got tired. I just looked at Sandy and smiled. She seemed very excited. She came close to the table and put her hands on it. Her breasts, squashed between her arms, had swollen dangerously. I thought they were going to bust through her thin summer dress.

"The winner gets to kiss me!" she proposed.

Against all expectation, Sam got a second wind. The idea of kissing Sandy seemed to give him strength. I decided to play with him.

I beat Ben and kept his hand on the table. I looked hard at Sam and faked not being able to feel Ben, who was going to increasing efforts to free himself.

"Sandy!" I said.

"Yes?"

"You mean a kiss on the lips, right? A long and passionate kiss?"

I could feel Sam's fingers trembling. I could even feel his pulse accelerate. His heart beat faster and faster at the idea of kissing Sandy.

"Tell me, Sandy, would you let the winner touch your breasts?"

"Why not! Ben, is that OK with you?"

As I was still keeping Ben's hand in place, I tightened my grip slowly to turn the pressure on. It must have gotten painful because he had trouble replying.

"Yes, yes, that's fiiiiiiiiine!"

Then I gently brought Sam's hand to the table. I kept his hand there for a moment, next to Ben's, then I let them both go. Sam stood up immediately.

"That made me sweat. I have to get into shorts and a T-shirt. I'll just get changed!"

Sandy and I looked at each other, biting on our lips so as not to laugh.

"Shame you're not much tougher, darling, you could have gotten a nice kiss from Sandy! Ben, with your permission…"

"Go on! You did win!"

I took Sandy by the waist and kissed her slowly, squeezing her tight in my arms.

I wanted Sam to be jealous, so I didn't hold back. Bizarrely, it was delicious. I felt Sandy's breasts push into me and squash against my still warm muscles. She didn't just touch me; she caressed my skin, warmed up by the efforts I'd just displayed. Her fingers traced the lines of the veins running through my arms. She slid her hands up to my shoulders and pulled her body close to mine. Her breasts crushed up against my chest. I felt their warmth spread over my pectorals and invade me completely.

When I felt my panties getting wet I got scared. I pushed her away from me and kept her at a distance. Ben broke the spell.

"Well! That's what you call a kiss! Isn't that right Sam… hey! Where's Sam?"

Guess where that phoney was?

            —–

18 March 2001

Sam asked if he could come training with me. He wants to lose weight and get some tone. That's what he said but I think he wants to get stronger so he can be stronger than me again. Despite that, I'm pleased he wants to. I'm just scared he'll feel silly. He already feels a fool when he's near to me. What's he going to think, at the gym, when he feels weak, fragile and useless? I don't want to destroy his ego.

I decided I'd just do my warm-up with him. I can train later in the day.

            —–

19 March 2001

I asked him to do one rep at his maximum so I could calculate the best weight for him. He did a seated press of thirty-five kilos. I couldn't believe that that was his maximum! I use that weight for my bicep curls!

I made him do ten reps of twenty-nine kilos – the bar (weighing twenty-five kilos) and a two kilo weight at either side. He managed fairly easily but cheated a little with the speed of the exercise. Then he did a second set, and a third. I had to help him with the last few reps. He was quite proud of himself.

Then I said to him I was going to do a set with sixty-five kilos (I normally lift a hundred but I'd decided to do a warm-up to keep Sam sweet.. so today, nothing over sixty-five kilos!). He didn't say anything, although it was more than twice as much as he'd lifted. I took the two kilo weights off and went to find some twenty kilo ones.

When I came back, he had piled up ten two kilo weights and was putting them through a bar. I can still he him now…

"Ten times more!"

I was so embarrassed for him. I'd never thought of it that way before.

I felt that I had to make it look like I was struggling.

I asked him to help me out for the last few reps, even though I could have lifted that bar, even with Sam sitting on it!

Poor Sam! His squats were worse!

I did my sets with the same sixty-five kilo bar (we moved the bench and moved the bar together, seeing as he would never have been able to do it himself and I didn't want to carry it on my own in front of him). Sam did his squats with just the bar: that weight alone made him wobble dangerously.

I said we should stop for the day. He said that those squats had been too easy and he wanted to do something harder. Poor Sam! The squats had taken so much out of him he could hardly breathe, but he didn't want to admit it.

I advised him to work on his back.

I did two sets, setting the machine to sixty-five kilos. I took care to do the exercise slowly and explain it to him fully. When we swapped places I set the machine to thirty kilos. He cheated a little on his first set but he got through. For the second set, he noticed the needle I'd used to set the machine and took hold of it. He put it at sixty-five kilos, like I had!

"Just to see," he said.

He took hold of the grip and tried to pull it. Impossible! The poor guy, no more than a hundred and thirty pounds, had no chance. He asked me to help him out but I refused. He would have felt awful.

I waited for Sam to go and do the shopping before I started my training.

I put a hundred and five kilos on for the seated press – forty kilos on both sides.

"Twenty times as much, honey – twenty times as much!"

            —–

13 April 2001

Today Sam and I went to the fun fair. We spent the afternoon as a couple.

I would have liked us to be cuddled up next to each other but Sam said he preferred to hold my hand.

He didn't want to seem ridiculous.

I have to add that I put on my blue flowery dress because it's the most figure-hugging one. It's very short and doesn't have sleeves, showing off my thighs and arms. I'd also trained hard that morning and my muscles were still pumped.

Poor Sam! Anyway, he looked ridiculous as I dragged him all over the shop like a puppet. I nearly trod on him or tore his arm off several times.

Once in a while I let him take the lead when I felt my arms get tired, so it looked like he had taken the initiative. Most of the time, though, I stayed still and let him tire himself out, or dragged him around where I wanted.

I brought him in front of a punching ball – one of those naff fairground things, where you show how strong you are by bunching a basketball. This particular model had seven rankings: 1 – little girl; 2 – little boy; 3 – man; 4 – athlete; 5 – tough; 6 – beast; and 7 – superman.

Last year he and Ben both tried it out. If I remember rightly, neither of them got more than a third of the way up the rankings, landing somewhere between 'little girl' and 'little boy'. I knew he wouldn't want to measure himself against me.

But I didn't want to oblige him to; I just wanted to show my superiority.

"Sam! I want to have a go."

"On that?"

"Yes! I'd love to have a go! Do you want to show me how it's done?"

"Out of the question! It's for losers!"

"But you had a go last year, with Ben, right?"

Sam went red. I put a coin in the machine and put the ball in place, looking at it constantly.

"Honey! Do you remember where you got to last year?"

He hesitated for a moment; it's not easy to admit to your wife that you got the score 'little girl'. He couldn't speak. Tears started to appear at the corners of his eyes. He knew I was going to do better, much better. He must have felt like a loser.

"I think I got '3 – man'… maybe '4 – athlete', but I can't be sure."

"Yes, of course. If you'd got less, it would have been pitiful, wouldn't it?"

He lowered his head.

"Yes, of course."

I'd never thrown a punch before today. I wondered how to do it, what sort of feeling I'd get. I was impatient to hit the ball.

I lifted my arm and turned slightly to prepare myself. My muscles tensed, becoming hard and prominent. Big veins appeared under my skin. I contracted more until my muscles had started to shake, then I punched.

I felt my hand push into the ball on impact. In fact, it kept the shape of my fist for a moment when I removed it. Then, with its elasticity, it snapped back into shape and the siren went off – BLAAAMMMM!!!

"Level 7! Superman!"

Sam had kept his head down. I grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at me. His eyes were filled with tears.

"Darling, I'm a superwoman!"

[Fonk]

That's just fantastic! 😮 /  8)

[Fonk]

Dude, this is a truly awesome story. Fresh, original descriptions. I love it!

[Fonk]

Yup, this is the start of a new story. From the look of the next few chapters, things are going to get pretty dark for Tanya!

—————————

Tanya's Diary – Chapter 1

12 December 1999

I saw my friend Sandy today. I hadn't seen her for five years and I had real trouble recognising her. She's gotten so gorgeous!

She explained to me that she signed up for a gym and has been working out for four years.

She's lost over two stone!

She also had her breasts done. Sam couldn't stop looking at her all night.

When she got changed in my room, I couldn't believe my eyes. Her legs are shapely, her butt high and firm. The worst part is her abs! They're made of steel! She said that Ben, her husband, trails his fingers across them for hours without stopping. Sam never does that to me: I should say that my abs are covered in a thick layer of fat, which removes a lot of their charm.

Sandy has become a real goddess.

She said to me that I should try working out, that it would do me good and I could lose weight.

Abs like hers… what a dream!

I hope I'll see her again soon. In any case, it's made me want to write in my diary again. It's been ages!

            —–

14 December 1999

I called Sandy and we spent two hours talking on the phone.

She noticed that Sam kept eying her up the other night. I said it didn't bother me, but that wasn't true. I want him to only have eyes for me.

I couldn't stop telling her I thought she was extraordinary.

I talked so much about her physique that she advised me to watch a programme on fitness on cable, tomorrow night.

I'm going to do it.

            —–

16 December 1999

I watched the fitness programme. All those girls are magnificent!

Sam came in during the programme and sat on the sofa next to me to read.

And he never reads! It was just a pretext to look at those bikini-clad marvels!

I don't begrudge him. I couldn't keep my eyes off them either.

I want to start going to the gym. I want Sam to look at me like he looked at those girls, crossing his legs to hide his erection.

I wonder if had an erection the other night when Sandy came to dinner?

            —–

17 December 1999

I talked to Sandy about the erection and she talked about her first few dates with Ben.

Each time they went to a restaurant, he had orgasms during the meal just from looking at her.

Ben told her so after their wedding.

He told her how he'd been obliged to spill wine on his trousers to hide the stains.

She reminded me that Sam had poured something on his trousers during the meal and he had had to change them. I'm sure she's right!

Despite everything, I can't hold it against Sam: Sandy is so sparkling that I'm confused by her beauty too.

            —–

28 December 1999

Sam gave me a gym subscription for a year at Christmas. I don't know how I should take it.

On one hand, I'm happy. I tell myself that I might be able to look like those girls from the telly.

On the other hand, I say to myself that if he gave me the subscription, it's because I don't please him as I am.

No! I think, quite simply, he wanted me to be happy. Since I saw Sandy again I've talked about fitness all day long.

            —–

1 January 2000

I started today! I feel all excited.

The coach took my measurements to track my progress:

Height:      5'4"
Weight:      93 pounds
Measurements: 32B/32/35
Biceps:      9 inches
Thighs:      19 inches

I keep thinking about the girls whose photos cover the walls of the gym.

Not fitness girls! No! I'm talking about girls who are into bodybuilding.

And there was I thinking that Sandy's abs were perfect! I've seen girls with extraordinary abs and muscles much more prominent than hers. I want to look like them. I'm all excited just thinking about the power those girls must feel when they lift the heavy steel bars.

I want to be like them!

            —–

I talked to Sam about my plans. He laughed… a lot. He said that bodybuilding would make my muscles a bit bigger but I would never be as strong as the girls I'd seen.

I asked him if he would mind me bodybuilding. He said that as long as I ended up looking like Sandy, I could always think about it. I think he was mocking me when he said that: he thinks I won't be able to do it.

            —–

12 March 2000

Height:      5'4"
Weight:      100 pounds
Measurements: 32B/28/35
Biceps:      10 inches
Thighs:      19 inches

            —–

25 April 2000

Sam is still making fun of me. He says I'm doing silly exercises. I think he's convinced I'll give it up. But he's wrong. I'm really feeling the changes that the training is bringing to my body and mind. I've put on six and a half pounds and an inch onto my arms!

            —–

6 May 2000

I'm making great progress. Tomorrow I'm going to measure myself.

I can't wait to find out!

            —–

8 May 2000

Sandy has moved away but I promised to her that I would keep on training. I sent her my new measurements.

Height:      5'4"
Weight:      113 pounds
Measurements: 32B/29/35
Biceps:      11 inches
Thighs:      20 inches

My instructor said he's never seen someone develop so quickly. I've put on twenty pounds in five months.

My arms are now as big as Sam's but much firmer. When I fold them, I can feel my biceps growing under my skin. I love the feeling it gives me.

            —–

5 August 2000

We went to the beach for a few days. I think that, for the first time, Sam has noticed the changes in me these last six months. And they are showing.

Height:      5'4"
Weight:      124 pounds
Measurements: 32B/29/35
Biceps:      13 inches
Thighs:      21 inches

People turned round when we walked past. Sam and I both know they're looking at me. I look like those tanned girls you see in the pages of fitness magazines. I'm proud of my new muscles. From today I've decided to show them off. My skirts will be shorter and my T-shirts tighter.

            —–

7 August 2000

We walked along the shore, arm in arm, for a good part of the afternoon. When I grabbed his waist, I pinched his love handles. He jumped and tried to do the same to me. His fingers came up against my abdominals. He looked at my stomach for a moment and then, without saying anything, moved his arm onto my shoulder, and we carried on walking without a word.

            —–

8 August 2000

Last night Sam wasn't in a talking mood. He went to bed early on the pretext that he was tired but I think he just wanted to avoid me. I did noticed that he looked at me all night long. Being out in the sun means I've got a tan, which means my muscles show up more and that seemed to puzzle him. I think he was uneasy. Maybe he's jealous of my new body?

Cos I've finally got Sandy's body, the body I dreamed of a few months ago and that today doesn't satisfy me.

I want more! More muscles! More power! Oh yes! I want more!

I know that Sam is excited by my new body. He spent nearly all the day with an erection. I think he masturbated in secret. He couldn't get it up tonight.

[Fonk]

In the vein of compliments, I have to say I love the Rishu. 😮

And to the going – I'm sorry to hear it. You've always posted great works here and I'll miss you. 🙁

[Fonk]

I'm actually drooling a little here. :-[

[Fonk]

Hubba hubba! [/old]

That's gorgeous, thank you!

[Fonk]

I voted for Billie Piper. I'm a bit of a Doctor Who fan and curves like hers would provide a great starting point.

[Fonk]

Ah-ha! Paths are crossing and the story is hotting up… great work! ;D

[Author]

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