[Anthony Durrant]

You're very welcome, fm07!  Although the thought of having sexual relations with a muscle woman intrigued me, which was why I printed out FIONA originally, I assure you that I have never and will never write about anything like what Gaddafie wrote about in that story.

[Anthony Durrant]

I haven't been able to find any JLU episode in which Big Breeda appears; ThePimpNeonBlack must be referring to her daughter, Big Barda, instead.

[Anthony Durrant]

It appears mercblue22's list has been removed from runboard.com, and is no longer at that site.

[Anthony Durrant]

Did anyone notice that the copyright date for this game was 1994?

[Anthony Durrant]

If anything, I leaned in Gadaffie's direction for this version of his story, although I did delete a mock conversation John has with an imaginary police sergeant on page eight of the original print-out from August 1, 2001.

Again, I wish to apologize to Gadaffie for using his or her story without his or her permission; but as I said before, I didn't know how to reach Gadaffie to get his or her permission to post his or her story on this forum.

[Anthony Durrant]

FIONA, part five

by Gadaffie

CRASH!

Fiona jumped – the noise had come from downstairs.  Who on Earth could be in the kitchen?  She ran out into the landing and sneaked quietly down the stairs.  As she neared the bottom she could hear a man's voice humming tunelessly.  She walked in and found John preparing some breakfast.

"Good morning, Fiona!"  John asked brightly.  "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine!"  Fiona said eventually.

"Would you like some breakfast?"  John asked.  "I've cooked some sausages and bacon."

"Yes, please!"  she said weakly.

John served Fiona some sausages, bacon and toast and poured coffee for them both.

Fiona sat quietly for a few minutes trying to gather her thoughts, and at last she simply asked:

"Why did you stay?"

"You locked me in, remember?"  John said with a smile.

"But where did the sausages and bacon come from?"  Fiona asked John.  "I didn't have any in the fridge."

"I guess you've got me there!" said John as he held up a key.  "I found your spare key hanging in the hall and nipped out to the shop at the corner."

"But why did you come back?"

"I thought you might be hungry!"

"But after what I did last night, you could have gone to the police!"

"I rather think the police would not have believed me!"  John said.

"I am so sorry about what happened!"  Fiona cried.

"Forget it!"  said John.  "You were very drunk, and people do silly things when they're drunk."

"I can't believe you're being so nice about it."

"Hey, I'm a nice guy!"

They talked for another half hour or so, then John stood up.

"I have to go now," he said, "because I've arranged to meet some people this morning."

Fiona walked him to the door.

"Thanks again for being so nice about last night!"  she said.  "I can't believe how really stupid I was!"

"Forget about it!"  John said as he stepped out onto the fourth floor landing and said goodbye to Fiona, who reluctantly closed the door behind him.

As John descended the stairs, he was kicking himself.

"Why didn't I just ask her?  I haven't had a problem asking a girl out since I was a kid!"

By the time he reaached the bottom of the stairs, he realized the reason was that he didn't think she would be interested.

"Why would a beautiful muscular girl like Fiona want to go out with someone like me?  There must be loads of bodybuilders she would prefer."

Shaking his head sadly, he pushed open the door and walked out onto the street.  And yet for some reason he knew she must have like him to some degree, otherwise why would she have done what she did last night?

At the same moment, Fiona was also kicking herself.

"Such a lovely bloke, and I had to ruin everything.  There's no way he'd ever want anything to do with me after the way I treated him."

After several short relationships with bodybuilders, she'd decided they were more trouble than they were worth.  They couldn't handle Fiona being stronger than any of them, and when they realized how much stronger she was, they all got very defensive and intimidated.  Normal guys were usually intimidated immediately, which meant that Fiona hadn't had a partner for nearly six months.  The way he behaved this morning, though, John didn't seem intimidated at all, and when she thought back to what had happened the night before, she vaguely remembered him massaging and caressing her legs.

"Now, why did he do that?"  she wondered as she sadly went to the kitchen and put the kettle on.

At exactly the same time as John put his hands into his pocket for his keys, Fiona lifted them off the kitchen counter.  They both turned and ran at the same time, John just reached the outside door before it closed at the same time as Fiona opened the apartment door.  Fiona ran down the fourth flight of stairs as John ran up the first, John ran up the second flight of stairs at the same time as Fiona ran down the third.  The inevitable happened on the second floor landing: John ran full tilt into a freight train, and bounced off, stunned.  If Fiona hadn't caught him, he would've fallen down the stairs headfirst.  When John came to, he was lying cradled in Fiona's muscular arms.  She carried him back up to her apartment and gently laid him on the couch.

"I forgot my keys!"

"I know – I was bringing them down to you!"  Fiona said, then paused.  "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so!"  said John.  "It's not every day you get run over by an express train and survive."

Fiona smiled down at him and said:

"I'm sorry – again."

"Don't be silly!"  John said.  "It was my fault as much as yours."

John smiled back and went to sit up.  As he did so, Fiona moved toward him.  For a moment, they stared into each other's eyes, then, both moving as one, they kissed each other passionately.  John threw his arms around Fiona and embraced her tightly; he was surprised to find his fingers only just touched each other because her back and chest were so big.  As they kissed, Fiona noticed him squeezing her.

That's nice! she thought.

Still kissing, Fiona put her left hand behind John's back and her right hand under his posterior and lifted him as an adult would a child; she then carried him back upstairs to her bedroom again.

"Ever heard of deja vu?"  John asked as he broke off the kiss.

"I'll 'deja vu' you!"  Fiona laughed.

She set him carefully on the bed, and they kissed again, then she slowly unbuttoned John's shirt.  John threw it to one side and loosened the rope around Fiona's gown.  When he pushed it off her shoulders, he gasped in disbelief at the display of muscle and female beauty in front of him.  Fiona's long hair was still damp, and was hanging straight down her back; it partially covered her neck muscles, which stood high and proud.  They flowed down to the broadest shoulders he'd ever seen, each one capped with thick bands of muscle, which accounted for the comfort he felt when being carried on one the night before.  Her chest was armoured with pectoral muscles that flexed and rippled every time she moved, and had the most beautiful and soft yet firm breasts mounted high and proud.  Her six-pack was clear and could've been chiselled from stone.  Then there were the arms: these were the arms that had crushed him, cut off the circulation from half of his body, bulged so hard into his leg that he now had a bruise, and had picked him up as though he were a small child.  They were magnificent, beautiful powerhouses:  John couldn't think of an adjective worthy of them.  As Fiona moved, her biceps flexed, growing before his very eyes.  Her legs seemed to be as big as tree trunks with every muscle in bold contrast; at their biggest, he guessed they were as big as his waist.  Fiona couldn't tell at first what John was thinking; then he moved forward and put his hands on her arms, first one hand on each one, then both together on one arm.  He squeezed and rubbed together in awe.

"D'you like them?"  she asked, although by now she knew the answer.

"They're wonderful!"  John cried.

Fiona flexed the arm under John's hands, her bicep exploded until he couldn't encircle it with his fingers.  He caressed and stroked the mountainous peaks, completely awestruck.  She put her free hand nehind John's head and pulled his face into her breasts, then flexed her pectoral muscles, alternately creating waves of hard muscle and soft breast, contracting and flowing in a way that totally blew John's mind.  Next, she leaned down and kissed him sensuously on the mouth.  John could feel the mighty power of this female muscle goddess controlling him, but he was more than happy about it.  She pushed him back down onto the bed, and they made love.  John now knew he'd found the one thing which had always been missing.

THE END

[Anthony Durrant]

Don't worry, I'll be posting the rest of Gaddafie's story tomorrow.  If Gaddafie is a member of the Amaz0ns forum – and even if he is not – I should like to apologize for entering FIONA at the forum without his (or her)permission.  The last time I tried to access his story at the site, the computer couldn't find it, and I have no way of contacting Gaddafie to obtain his permission.

[Anthony Durrant]

FIONA, Part Four

by Gaddafie

John stood up from the bed and gazed down at Fiona.  He could feel something stirring inside him, somthing he'd never felt before.  John had always worried that, even though he'd gone out with all of the best-looking girls in his circle of friends, he'd never had any real feelings for him; there was always something missing – no spark of passion.  Now, for the first time ever, he felt something more than just lust.

John got up and left the room – he had to think what his next move would be.  He looked around the small landing he'd found himself on.  There were three doors, one of which was a fire escape he could have used to leave.  The other two doors led to bedrooms, one of which he'd just come out of.  He opened the other door, went in, and lay down on the bed.

Fiona slowly pulled herself up and checked the time: it was ten o'clock.

Oh, God, I feel awful! she thought to herself.  What on earth happened?

Fiona didn't normally drink much, and so hadn't had a hangover in years, yet today she had a hangover.  She dragged herself out of bed and into the shower, hoping this might help to clear her head.  As she was standing in the shower, she began to remember what had happened; as the memories came flooding back, she groaned out loud.  Fiona had never done anything like it before and couldn't believe she could possibly be so stupid.  John was probably sitting in a police station filing out a report about kidnapping, sexual attacks, and grievous bodily harm.  She wouldn't blame him if he sued her for every penny she had.

"Damn!"  she said out loud.  "Damn, damn, damn!"

Fiona looked down at her body; she'd always loved her muscles.  She looked at her right arm and flexed the bicep; the muscle pushed the skin out until it was nearly translucent.  She looked down at her chest; the pectoral muscles swelled when she flexed them and her beautiful D-cup breasts stood at attention.  These muscles that had always looked after her had now gotten her into deep trouble.

She stepped out of the shower and grabbed two towels to dry herself off with because her body was so large, one towel was never enough.  After she'd dried off, she put her dressing-gown back on and sat down heavily on her bed.

Fiona had always been strong, and ever since childhood she'd had the responsibility of being much stronger than anyone around her, and had learned early to be very careful of how she used her strength.  When she first started public school, she was stronger than any other pupil, even though she was only five years old and the oldest boy was eleven.  When she started junior high school at the age of twelve, she was stronger than anyone in the school including the teachers.  She had avoided fights all her life, because she knew that if she got even slightly annoyed with them, they could end up in hospital.  Once, a boy about three years older than her jumped onto Fiona from behind.  It was totally out of the blue, and she reacted instinctively.  She put her hand over her shoulder, grabbed him by his jacket collar, and threw him twenty feet onto the hard ground.  He ended up in hospital, and she would've been expelled had it not been for other kids who spoke up for her.

The first time Fiona went out with a boy, he was much older than her and more experienced.  They were round the back of the cycle shed, and went to kiss.  For a few seconds it was great, and then she heard him scream out in pain and start thrashing about in her arms because she was holding him so tightly, he couldn't breathe.  After that, she always let the boy hold her, and the only time she had broken this rule was when she went out with the local bodybuilding champion.  This guy was really big, and he had a fifty-odd inch chest, so Fiona thought she would be safe enough with him.  He had taken her to his apartment, and, even though she hadn't really liked him, they'd gotten down to brass tacks.  He was lying on top of her and started getting rough.  Had she been a normal woman, he would've hurt Fiona a lot.  Fiona had taken as much as she could, and put her arms around his back, then started to apply the pressure.  It only took a fraction of a second before he screamed out for her to stop, then gave him one little extra squeeze and threw him off of her.  She found out later that she'd broken three ribs.

Now she was sitting on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands.

"What have I done?" she cried as a tear welled up and flowed down her cheek. 

[Anthony Durrant]

FIONA, part three

by GADDAFIE

All of this information was flying around John's head, and he couldn't come up with a clear strategy.  He couldn't strike out at her – he had never hit a woman in his life, and he knew she was big enough to do some serious damage.  Instead, he went to grab her by her upper arms and tried to hold her back, at least until he tried to figure out what the next move was.

This was when he received another surprise: John expected to get a good grip by going for Fiona's arms, but her arms turned out to be big – very big.  In fact, they were so big that not only did his hands not engulf them, but they didn't even go halfway around them.  They weren't soft – they were absolutely solid.  He tried to squeeze them, but they didn't budge.

Fiona saw the look of confusion, mixed with a little fear, on his face.

"Don't worry," she said, "I won't hurt you."

"Wha . . . what d'you want from me?"  he blurted out.

By this time, he'd been backed into the corner of the room and still had his hands straight out in front of him.  He was pushing her back with all his strength, but she still kept coming forward.  Even though he had his back braced against the wall, he could not stop this woman from pushing his arms back with no apparent effort.  She just moved forward until her breasts were touching his chest.

"I just want you!"  she said at last.

"What for?"  he asked, guessing what the answer would be.

"For me!"  she said.

With that, she put her arms around him and kissed him on the mouth.  His hands, which were still pushing against her upper arms, were brushed aside as if they were of no consequence at all.  John thought it was the end as he was crushed in a vice-like grip, which expelled every ounce of breath from his body.  He let out a loud moan, and felt himself go weak at the knees.  Fiona immediately released her grip, but held him up with her hands under his armpits.  She was holding his entire body weight with her arms outstretched and showed no signs of strain.  After a few seconds, John came round.

"I'm sorry – are you okay?"  she asked.

By the look on her face, and the sound of her voice,John could tell she was being sincere.

"Yeah, I'm fine!"  he said untruthfully as he felt like someone had just run over him with a steamroller.

"I didn't mean to hurt you!"

"No, I'm okay!"

A broad smile crept across Fiona's beautiful face.

"Good!"  she said, and before John knew what was happening, she bent down until her head was level with his hips.  She put one arm around his bottom and hoisted him up onto her shoulder.  The total ease with which she performed this feat of strength was amazing.  John wasn't fat, but he was six feet tall and well-built.  The last time he'd weighed himself, he was approximately fourteen stone.  Had she been lifting a rag doll, it would not have been much easier.

She started for the door, and John ducked his head to avoid the top of the jamb.  Fiona was a little unsteady on her feet due to the alcohol, but carried on.  When she reached the stairs, John became worried that she might drop him or that they could both fall.  She must have been thinking the same thing, for she tightened her grip on him with her right hand and held onto the handrail with her left.  He could feel something pressing hard into the outside of his left thigh, and it took a few minutes for him to realize that this was his biceps muscle, digging into him so hard, the circulation was cut off in his leg.  At the top of the stairs she turned and walked into a bedroom to her left.

Fiona dumped him onto the bed on his back and looked down at him.  She seemed to be even more unsteady on her feet, and John just lay on her bed staring up at her, feeling very insecure. She toppled face first onto the bed, and, unfortunately for John, her right arm landed right across her chest.  Thankfully, the bed absorbed most of the blow, but he still felt like a ton of bricks had landed on him.

John struggled out from under her arm and made for the door, to escape; as he reached the door, he stopped and looked back at Fiona.  Yes, she had locked him in her flat, and yes, she had forced herself on him, but he couldn't help thinking she was not an evil person; when she had hurt him, she looked genuinely concerned.  She was lying on the bed on her stomach, with her legs hanging off the bottom from just below the knee.  He looked again at her face; she was out cold.  Walking over to her legs, John put a hand on one calf muscle.  Her skin was warm and soft, smooth as silk; he tried to encircle her leg with his hand, but found that where his fingers were touching, his thumbs were not, and vice versa.  There was a gap of at least an inch, which was just a little less than his thigh.  He stroked and caressed both calf muscles, feeling the softness of the skin contrasted with the density of the muscle.  When he first touched Fiona's legs, they were totally relaxed, and though he could feel the mass and density of the muscle, it was yielding under his fingers.  The bulk of her muscle was rising and moving toward the top of her calves, leaving a large ridge of at least an inch from the upper part to the lower part.  They were becoming harder, and their girth was increasing at the upper part.  When he put his hands around them now, the gap was more like three inches, bigger than his thighs.  They were now so hard that when John tried to squeeze them, there was no give at all: he might've been squeezing a bowling ball.  John was totally mesmerized by what was happening under his eyes and fingers, so much so that it took him a full ten seconds to realize that Fiona was leaning on her left elbow watching him.  He looked at her with fear whelming up inside him, and backed away.  He needn't have worried: Fiona had an expression of pleasure on her face.

"That was nice!"  she said.  "D'you like my legs?"

"Yes, I think they're great!"  he replied a little weakly.

"I just love having my legs massaged!"  she purred.

With that, she put her head back down on the bed and drifted off to sleep again.

 

[Anthony Durrant]

FIONA, Part Two

by Gadaffie

John came to the door and knocked.

"C'mon in!"  he heard the same female voice shouted.  "The door's open!"

He pushed the door ajar, walked in, and found himself in a small entrance hall with two doors off to either side, opening out into a large lounge.  As he walked into the lounge, he caught a glimpse of a woman darting into another room off to his right.  She seemed to be wearing a white towelling dressing gown.  He was a little surprised, but, as the whole situation was so unusual he thought no more about it.

"Hi!  How are you?"  he called out, not really knowing what else to say.

"I'm just fine!"  came the reply.

John thought there was something odd about the way she sounded, but couldn't put his finger on it.

"Have you anything in mind for tonight?"  he called out.

He was walking around the room familiarising himself to the surroundings, and had just reached the wall furthest from the exit when a woman walked out of the room.  She walked out of the exit door and locked it, then put the key in the pocket of her dressing gown.  John couldn't believe what he was looking at: the woman standing in front of him was very much like Fiona in hair and facial structure; she was just as beautiful, had long blonde hair hanging down to her shoulders and the same piercing blue eyes.  This, however, was where the similarity ended, as she was much taller – at least six feet, one inch – and where Fiona was slim, this woman was not – and yet she wasn't fat, either.  The dressing gown was tied tightly around her waist, showing it to be probably smaller than his own, but her shoulders and chest were enormous.  He couldn't make out any more detail as the dressing gown was made of heavy toweling and went down to her ankles, but it was obvious that this lady was big.

"I've got something in mind!"  she said.

"H . . . H . . . Hello!"  he finally managed to stammer out.  "I'm John – is Fiona anywhere around?"

"Oh, yes!"  she replied.  "She's right here."

As she spoke she slowly moved toward John, who said:

"I . . . I was meant to meet her tonight!"

"I know!"  she replied.

John wasn't sure what was going on, but he'd begun to feel something wasn't right, and he was pretty sure this big woman had been drinking.  All the while, she was slowly and deliberately moving toward him.  He was beginning to feel very uncomfortable and wasn't sure what to say next.  Finally, he just asked:

"Who are you?"

"I'm Fiona!"  she said, smiling.

John had neither been top of his class at school, nor was he stupid.  The way the girl the previous night had said "Ask for Fiona" sprang to his mind.

"What's going on here?"  he asked.  "Who was it I spoke to last night?"

"Oh, that was my twin sister Jane.  She is nice, isn't she?"

"I thought I was meeting her tonight."

"Did she say that?"

"Well, no, not really – but she made it sound that way." 

John was frantically trying to remember what Jane had said, but Fiona was right: she hadn't said she would be here.

Fiona was still smiling and still moving slowly toward John, and involuntarily he started to retreat.  He wasn't a coward – in fact, John was the kind of guy who would never start a fight and tried his best to avoid confrontation, but when the chips were down, he would step in and sort things out, as several of his friends had found to their abject relief.  However, this was different: Fiona was invading his personal space.  She was also drunk, as far as he could tell, but she had the sweetest smile on her face: you wouldn't believe she could hurt a fly.

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