[reaper0002000]

…cont'd…

He was surprised by the unexpected ending of her question, and his head jerked up from ogling her now mostly-exposed, insanely muscular physique to look at her young, gorgeous face. To his consternation, Mercy was staring at him with her eyes narrowed. Her blazing eyes were blue lasers that pierced into his very soul. It was as if she could read his every thought. She took a deep breath, her face darkening like a thundercloud. Just the expression on her young face chilled him as she maintained her vest-shredding posture. By her hardened features and how she was measuring his response, he suddenly realized Mercy had done the fake yawn motion deliberately. But why would she…?

Beads of cold sweat started to form on the psychologist’s forehead, his stomach sinking into a bottomless pit of fear as he realized what was happening: in “innocently” adopting this posture, she knew what her incredible muscles would to her clothing. She’d burst right out, and she did. Mercy was showing off her mindboggling musculature. Like the girl did that night, right before she entered the van…! His horror grew ever greater, and it felt like he couldn’t even take a breath as he watch the beauty become a beast right before his eyes.

Adjusting her arms to a more traditional outstretched muscle pose, a now barechested Mercy chuckled menacingly, her perfect teeth glistening. He stared helplessly at the unusually pointed, prominent canines that foreshadowed her ferocious inner predator. She slowly flexed first one massive, breastless pec into hellishly striated prominence, and then the other. The therapist paled, whimpering, as layer upon layer of freakish striations formed, networks of hose-like veins protruding over every inch of obscene pectoral development. She was so ripped, Mercy had dramatic pectoral dimples, the deep divots larger than some women’s breasts at her deltoid tie-ins.  Her visible power was ungodly – she looked like she could lift an entire freeway of vans. Mercy smirked and perked her astoundingly powerful, naked pecs demonstratively, flicking her small nipples up and down, before abruptly snap-flexing her chest into an utterly male-shaming display of inhuman muscular supremacy. Not a single inch of her colossal pecs wasn’t deeply etched with individual muscle fibers and veins that threatened to burst right out of her skin.

A small pool of urine started to form on the carpet, trickling down his pant leg as he pissed himself in fear at the muscles of Mercy. She glanced in disdain at the familiar reaction to her mindblowing muscularity – it was not uncommon for even more waste to unload from sheer terror when confronted with her inconceivable physicality. Her strength was fathomless, more than capable of crushing an army of men like ants. Just like she had done to a teenaged male gymnast as a mere 10 year-old girl. Or any man that found her sexy.

Mercy openly admired the nightmarish hulking muscularity of her bared, clenched chest, her hardening sex nubs noticeably erect amidst their flushing areolas. She moaned in arousal from her own magnificent body, oozing brute strength out of every pore. Even the vaguely smoky, musky smell of her ungodly strength permeated the room from out of the massive muscle vaults of Mercy’s shaved, enormous muscle-widened armpits. Her erotic, heady scent flooded every inch of the room, adding to the sense of utter domination she exuded. The man huddled back in his chair, heart pounding from both fear and the irresistible tide of pheromones, as Mercy gave him a wicked grin, and then fully flexed into a monster double biceps pose with stupefying results.

The psychologist cried out in alarm as her exploding physique completely obliterated what was left of her top, her outlandish muscles summoned to their true colossal size, and she fixed him a look of absolute, dominant superiority. There was no comparison between her magnificent physique and any human. Not even a shred of clothing was now left on the beautiful girl’s matchlessly muscled, pumped upper body as she relaxed her pose, readjusting her position calmly. Mercy’s shy, hesitant demeanor had completely evaporated in the angry heat of her muscular explosion and self-lust.  He quivered in absolute terror, as a now brazenly topless, spectacularly muscular Mercy coolly regarded him with those deep blue eyes, a slight tug on the corner of her lips. She was an absolute beast, an animal muscled beyond all reason, and she was unleashed.

…to be cont'd…

[reaper0002000]

Oooh boy, methinks the good doctor is going to give the wrong answer, and then Mercy will turn him inside-out.

Yeah…maybe. 🙂
…

But then again, can anyone think of a RIGHT answer..? 😉

[reaper0002000]

Thanks for the kind comments; they are most appreciated…
Reap

[font=Verdana]…cont'd…

Of course, the psychologist also knew none of this. In as much as he had no idea that his online resume and his former employers had attracted Mercy’s attention. Although he was genuinely shaken by the sheer goriness of what had been in the county morgue, the man was far more skeptical when it came to the story of the superhuman girl. After all, no witness identified her, despite allegedly getting good views of her face. Alcohol, drugs, and overactive imaginations combined with latent erotic longings were far more likely in his world.

He’d shaken his head. After all, a girl catching a car, overturning it with her bare hands, and then ripping out the door before she literally destroyed several men, tearing one limb from limb? Popping a head like a pimple? Come on — who’d believe that? That is, until he actually met Mercy today. And saw her muscles.

“Doctor…?”

He started, refocused, and saw that Mercy had finally indeed spoken. She was looking at him, her large blue eyes questioning but without any apparent emotion. He shook himself mentally, taking a deep breath to calm his own anxiety, coming back to the present. He especially avoided looking directly at her eyes, for it was easy to get lost in those deep, intensely azure pools that now regarded him with placid, childlike inquiry.

Like the girl that the report described, Mercy was young, stunningly beautiful, and impossibly muscular; however, she also came across as almost naïve despite that tremendously built, powerful body. Except for that flash of anger when he tried to slap her, when she’d recounted her dream, Mercy displayed none of the emotional cues of vicious sadism like the girl in the report. Or the 10 year-old she had just made herself out to be in her dreams.

“Do YOU think that I’m… you know…” Mercy paused as if unsure to continue, and closed her doe-like eyes. Resigned, she sighed heavily while bringing up both unbelievably sculpted arms and coiling them in the beginning of a yawning stretch.  If her previous movement had resulted an symphony, these caused an earthquake. The therapist couldn’t contain gasping at the sight.

Gigantic lats appeared out of nowhere, instantly filling and then overcoming the armholes on her vest, effortlessly splitting apart the seams to flare out unrestrained as vast, massive wings beneath her rising arms. Her released lats kept growing and spreading, her enormous flare seeming to take up the width of the loveseat. Huge, vein-filled arms bursting with unimaginable muscle that now became alive with almost ludicrous bulges and angles as they flexed, both towering biceps turning into softball-sized ovals of visibly immense power.

Arching her back, Mercy’s giant chest literally erupted, the spaces between buttons turning into gaping holes that exposed her granite flesh. Since she wore no bra, all he saw was the stunningly deep, notched cleavage between two monumental chest slabs of pure girl brawn that were easily tearing apart her top… then all the buttons burst and her monstrous pecs poured out like conquering armies, her small nipples shamelessly exposed amongst the shredded expanses of unearthly girlbeef. His jaw dropped at her bared, massive, hideously muscled chest. Instead of breasts, Mercy had separations, striations, and veins. Even under her girlish nipples, Mercy had no breasts whatsoever; she was 100% granite muscle — simply too ripped, too shredded for any fatty tissue anywhere at all. Except for those small, exquisitely feminine nipples, her exposed chest was two hulking, masculine sculptures of ungodly gender-smashing muscularity.

“… sexy?” Mercy finished.

…to be cont'd…[/font]

[reaper0002000]

…cont'd…

And although a couple witness had described her facial expression in detail, one even noting her striking good looks and facial beauty, none of them were able or willing to make a positive identification. But to those onlookers that were shown a photographs of suspects, the investigators had noted that they all had paled, some shaking visibly, when shown the recent, senior high school picture of Mercy. But all refused to ID her as the girl in question, some even refusing to indicate Mercy was even at the Riverside Club, refused the offer of witness protection, and their fearful reaction wasn’t enough to bring to court. Not that the investigative team tried that hard, considering the less-than-upstanding nature of the victims involved. There was, after all, some degree of karma involved.

What the investigators would never know is that each witness had been paid a surreptitious visit soon after the incident by a certain young, beautiful, brown-haired girl wearing a sleeveless shirt that showed off simply stupendous, freakish arm musculature. Her ultra-short skirt revealed monstrous legs whose only competition in muscularity were her own astonishing arms. The mortified witnesses could not help but recognizer her from the incident, just as they would soon recognize her high school picture again.

They also could not help but notice what was fastened on her wrists. Bizarrely enough, the girl was also wearing no less than three sets of police-issue, maximum security handcuffs that secured her wrists together. These special manacles were nearly ten times as strong as regulation-issue cuffs, and used only on those who might have the resources to cut through regular handcuffs. They also weighed ten pounds each, yet the powerful girl wore three of them as easily as bracelets.

However, what was most disturbing to every eyewitness was that she had no escorts, no police around her at all. Their fear intensifying, each realized that although she was apparently bound, the murderous musclegirl was alone… and free. The girl had picked her location and time to visit each witness carefully, and each of them came to the mortifying realization that there was no one else was in the vicinity. Just one witness, and one young, incredible female predator.

In front of each now petrified witness, the girl smiled meaningfully and raised her bound hands high above her crop of pony-tailed, brown hair, unfolding her shockingly muscled torso to flaring, majestic proportions that utterly dwarfed the cowering individual in front of her. Her scapulae winged outwards inhumanly, spreading almost a foot in each direction and effortlessly ripping out her shirt sides. Her huge, shaved underarms were now fully exposed, each actually bigger than her lovely face, and the musky scent of her arousal saturated the entire area. She delighted in her own unimaginable strength by rippling her obscene muscles to truly hellish relief, effortlessly straining the manacles to their breaking point. Her shoulder girdle was so massive, her lats so wide, that each side looked capable of devouring an entire human head in their oversized muscle-formed vaults as she swayed, growing increasingly pumped with her arms outstretched overhead.

Smelling her own arousal, she pushed her pointy chin past the thick meat of her pectoral, and extending her exceptionally long, strong tongue, licked her lips. As the girl moaned in self-lust, her freakish muscles bulged ever larger with arousal, pumping up as she savored the moment. She smiled dreamily – even deodorized, she could detect that her exquisitely girlish smell was incredible. Sweet. Strong. Unbearably sexy. Like the nectar that now started gushing between her legs as her soaked panties fell torn to the grown, burst asunder from being unable to contain the monstrosity of her meat. Inhumanly, its destruction was due to a simple tensing from between the girl’s awesome legs… her sexual leviathan that had exploded apart yet another pair of panties to reveal a hulking brute of a groin, bursting with muscular sexuality.

For the first time, each witness now saw the girl up-close in all her inconceivable development, and the sight of her inconceivably powerful genitals coupled with the smoky erotic scent of her ungodly strength simply overwhelmed them, their senses so overcome that eachtumbled to the ground stunned before the self-aroused, beautiful beast. She looked at them, smirking. Even though she would never admit to thinkin it, that’s where they belonged – on their knees, bowing at her feet. Beneath a superior sex that could literally dismember and consume them. Being spattered by her wetness, or better yet, her divine jack. She finally brought her hellishly sculpted arms down, coiling them and flexing her huge, towering biceps into a mindboggling, dominating display of unequallable muscularity.

It was also a menacing demonstration of ungodly strength, for she easily snapped all three manacles apart, almost inadvertently with her flex, like they were made of cheap plastic. Their hardened steel were clearly nothing to her. If any of the witnesses failed to register what she had just done to the handcuffs, a single satisfied glance with those deep blue eyes towards the three thick, shattered metal strands hanging uselessly from her wrists on the peaked backdrop of the world’s ultimate biceps would focus their mortified attention on the inescapable conclusion. Nothing was capable of stopping her. She never said a word, but she got her point across to every trembling witness. She would find them. And literally tear them to pieces.

…to be cont'd…

[reaper0002000]

…cont'd…

Apparently, squeezing this man’s torso to an unsurvivable slit wasn’t enough for her. With her other arm, the one that held both his arms immobile by the grip on his wrists, she started pulling the crushed, dying man’s limp arms. Even from afar, the witnesses were able and shocked to notice the wide smile on the barechested, tremendously muscled girl’s face – a couple of them said it was a look they will never forget, because of how jarring and out of place her expression seemed to what she was doing.

Eyes closed, her face was positively beatific; one of pure joy and contentment… as she effortlessly ripped both his arms right off his body with one hand. One observer numbly compared the ease with which the girl did this like “she was pulling warm taffy apart,” while another said it reminded him of how a child would tear the wings off an injured fly. As the blood poured out of where his arms had been, the brown-haired girl tossed his severed limbs into the van and sat his utterly mangled body to the ground.

She swiveled her narrow hips erotically, her face still blissful as her small, ripped midsection undulated with more muscle than the onlookers could believe. The musclegirl finally straddled the armless, sitting corpse while placing his skull roughly in between the colossally muscled pillars of her sculpted legs, just below her bulging crotch that her panties struggled to hold. Smiling with evil bliss, she then raised and flexed both arms again in a pose of absolute dominance. At the same time, she also flexed her shredded thighs, striations leaping to prominence and veins protruding all over her bulging muscles.

The effect on his skull was instantaneous. “My God — she popped his head like it was a pimple!” was how one appalled witness put it, making the therapist recoil again, disbelieving the horrendous description of a human skull literally splattering apart. But the headless, armless, scissored corpse was a matter of record, as were the numerous pieces of skull and smashed brain found scattered all over the area.

The coroner had personally told the therapist’s contact at Justice that the victim’s skull had been forcibly imploded, its individual bone fragments similar in destruction to what one might expect out of a home trash compactor. He doubted that anyone’s inner thighs were strong enough to exert that kind of force, but he had already seen what could be interpreted as the double-headed imprint of an exceptionally large, high, and hard biceps muscle that was stamped into the corpse’s compressed torso. But everything was blurred by the recovery process; they had dredged the river, and had taken days to recover the water-bloated bodies for forensic pathology to examine. IF the forensic medical evidence were to be correlated with the admittedly intoxicated eyewitnesses’ utterly ludicrous accounts of a freakishly muscular, unbelievably strong girl.

A girl who had then demonstrated the full extent of her gender-bending muscular superiority. Tossing the carnage into the river like a dismembered rag doll, she sauntered towards the overturned van, every step turning her amazing legs into a symphony of bulging, striated power. Without even pausing, the incredibly muscled girl thrust her arms deep into the engine compartment, and lifted the van clear off the road. She was so strong that while suspending entire skewered vehicle, she walked it to the edge of the river, and with a heave, hurled the van into the fast-moving current.

…to be cont'd…

[reaper0002000]

Thank you all for you kind comments, they're greatly appreciated…

I realize that gore is not to a lot of people's liking, so I am gratified that you continue to read this thread despite its inclusion.

Best wishes,
Reap

[reaper0002000]

…cont'd…

The powerful girl then apparently registered how badly damaged her dress was, and ripped off the remnants of her torn clothing in obvious disgust, leaving her in the street wearing only her panties. Her exposed, barechested physique was shocking to the onlookers – the degree of her muscular development was frankly freakish.

This young, naked girl was more muscular – much, much more muscular – than anyone they had ever seen, and some of the witnesses thought they must have been hallucinating. Emerging from incredibly narrow hips and freakishly chiseled haunches, her long legs were packed with more huge, hard sculpted muscle than most people’s entire bodies possessed. Matching those hellish legs, her monstrous back and arms were obscene idols to muscular overdevelopment. And at her slender, hardened waist, even her abdomen was unreal. She had more than a six pack, but no one could agree on exactly how many individual segments of muscle were chiseled on her stomach from that distance. And with that much alcohol clouding their senses.

The therapist had sighed; it didn’t matter – obviously, the girl was in simply incredible bodybuilding condition. However, there was a more important controversy when it came to her bared chest. Most of the observers already doubted if this was really a girl, since the physique they saw was so inhumanly strong: no mere girl could be that strong, could she? And now some witnesses also pointed out that despite the long brown hair, her pumped-up, herculean body was so incredibly ripped that this girl also didn’t have any visible breasts at all – her mighty chest was clearly all brutish, utterly shredded pectoral muscle. But the few who saw Mercy up close with that group of men – assuming this was indeed Mercy – were absolutely convinced that it was Mercy, and Mercy was definitely a girl. Yes, Mercy had muscles, monstrous muscles, but she was undeniably female; her overwhelming facial  beauty, her silky voice, and the feline grace with which she moved was utterly feminine. And if this was indeed her, there was a part that was also sadistically predatory.

At this point, all the witnesses said that the barechested girl then stalked into the overturned van and emerged with three struggling men. She manhandled all of them like they were mere infants, with one draped over her shoulder, another hoisted by her other arm while the third was dragged out by his legs.

Any notion that this young powerhouse was rescuing them was dispelled by the sickening crack of shattering bones against metal, for she abruptly and viciously hurled one of the men into the side of the vehicle like she would throw a football. He was flung with such force that upon the revolting, crunching impact of his body, the ruined van skidded several feet on its roof, spinning. With a single arm, she had thrown him so unbelievably hard that he was gruesomely embedded into the van’s side like a compressed human javelin, every large bone in his body fragmented. He was instantly killed.

Still gripping the other man on her shoulder, the muscle girl turned on the third man, the one she had dragged out. Seeing what she had just done to his friend, he was on his knees, gesturing in a pleading, placating manner with his hands, clearly begging the girl “for mercy”.  The psychologist had initially smiled humorlessly at this witness’ exact quote. Little did the pleading man realize that perhaps it was exactly and literally Mercy that he got.

At any rate, the girl’s response was the most brutal kick ever documented. The therapist still shivered at the vivid description. She drew her leg back, the striated flexing of her legs’ spectacular muscles still embedded in the witnesses’ minds, and sent a kick of unrestrained power at the pleading man’s body. A shower of blood erupted from out of his back as he was lifted several feet of the ground to land a couple yards away, his upper body almost decimated by her single ferocious blow; a couple of shaken witnesses even said they saw her foot protrude out of his shoulders for one ghastly instant. The coroner’s report supported this gory detail, indicating that the victim’s torso had suffered “massive blunt trauma that completely penetrated the thorax and exited the left shoulder, dissecting the subject vertically from the abdomen up.” Viciously, she had kicked him so hard that she’d split him in two. His gruesome remains simply collapsed to the ground, convulsing, blood slowly seeping over where it had already been splattered with her lethal, smashing kick. He was dead before his splintered torso was hoisted, and flung like a broken rag doll into the river.

The last man, slung on her shoulder, screamed and started struggling with all his strength against the powerful female arm that ensnared and hoisted him. He flailed mightily, pummeling and kicking the incredibly muscular, sadistic girl with desperate blows. He might as well as well have been pounding on a stone statue for all the effect it had on her sculpted, granite-hard physique.

With an annoyed look, she captured both his wrists with ease, using her other free hand, and contained him like he was a weak child. Suddenly the suspended man started screaming again, writhing in pain. At first, the observers didn’t know why, but then they saw that that the strong, sculpted arm that held his torso trapped, was being increasingly coiled – the barechested musclegirl was starting to flex her extraordinarily muscled, steel-bending arm. Having just seen how superhumanly strong she was, the witnesses watched in fascinated horror as the last man’s torso was slowly and relentlessly crushed, visibly compressing between the vice of her vein-sprawled forearm, bursting biceps and steely deltoid.

As she slowly brought her hand closer and closer to her shoulder, she then rotated her wrist, a red stream of unknowable fluid and pulverized internal material suddenly exploded out of both his anus and mouth. When they observed the terrible sight of the mangled man vomiting his own organs from the hellish pressure from her single, scissoring arm, it was enough for some of the already drunk, nauseated onlookers to start retching and throwing up as well. What they also didn’t see – but the coroner found puzzling evidence of – was how her huge, freakishly peaked biceps erupted into unstoppable two-headed towers that broke her third victim’s ribs and actually penetrated into his thorax with their incredible flexed shape as she twisted her wrist to full contraction. Apparently, the girl had disemboweled him with just her biceps… and by simply flexing them.

When he first read this, the psychologist had to put down the file, mind reeling. It was too much. The mutilations were medical evidence, however waterlogged – and that was what made him queasy – but the narrative was ridiculous; he was disinclined to put any faith in it. All but naked, this girl had brutally killed three men with her amazing muscles and bare hands. Ended their lives like they were insects to her. But the report didn’t end; the description continued.

…to be cont'd…

[reaper0002000]

Thanks for the feedback! The repentant musclegirl is something to consider, since it seems that therapists are taking the confession of guilt these days.
Now why WOULD Mercy seek out a psychologist?

…

(OK, I admit it; I'm only leading you on.)

And as to Mercy's sexual tastes, she's whatever she wants to be. She's probably not irredeemable, but currently very, very disturbed.

Regards,
Reap

[reaper0002000]

Ever wondered what "the file" on Mercy contained…?

…cont'd…

The psychologist shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he waited for Mercy to respond, but she didn’t. The supremely muscular beauty just sat there, her brows knit, obviously thinking carefully at what to say next. He wondered if he had gone a little too far with his last statement, which was undoubtedly true… but he was now thinking it may have been too harsh for this girl who clearly valued her astonishing muscularity above anything else. It now occurred to him that Mercy’s muscles were not just the subject of her study, but had also become her shield against a hostile, abusive world. However, her muscles held some sort of erotic obsession, and one which he probably needed to address.

Still Mercy didn’t say a word… she just sat there, seeming to steam. As the silence became protracted, the therapist’s mind couldn’t help but wander nervously back to her file, some of the words of the report still haunting at him. It was right there in his lap. Unable to suppress it any further, he flipped open the folder containing the forensic report and reviewed it again as he waited for her to speak….

After a party downtown around midnight, witnesses had seen Mercy with a group of young men. These hardened young males were most of a street gang whose social strata had exceeded their upbringing, likely because of an income source not quite legal in origin. Known for taking the best looking (and most intoxicated) young women out of the Riverside Club, they had an ill reputation that was likely deserved. Somehow, they always evaded prosecution, typically for lack of credible witnesses. After all, the club was said to be owned by the most powerful crime family in the state, and all investigations by the authorities had somehow proven fruitless.  Sometime after midnight, this same group entered a van and departed for an unknown destination.

The van had gone only into the far parking lot before it suddenly slammed on its brakes, and according to those who watched its red brake lights, was rocking side to side when a man was literally launched out the back of the stopped vehicle. He was thrown nearly thirty feet in the air, and both arms, several ribs and one shoulder were broken. Landing on his skull and neck and shattering both, he survived but never recovered his mental functioning. Next, a brown-haired girl with a badly torn dress and prominent, bulging muscles – Mercy allegedly — tumbled out, and the van started to speed away, tires screeching as the driver gunned the engine. What happened after that was almost completely unbelievable.

The witnesses at the party, all on the second floor balcony, swore they saw the half-naked, muscular girl furiously take off after the van, shedding her shoes and running barefoot, chasing it at impossible speed. To their astonishment, she was so fast that she actually caught up with the speeding vehicle before it left the distant lot, and through the dark they saw its red lights abruptly stop and jerk upwards, as if the rear of the van had been lifted off the ground. The lights hung there for a moment before flipping over three times, and the van was seen overturned on its roof under the light of a nearby street lamp. The angry brown-haired girl came into view and grasped the side doors of the overturned vehicle.  Her exposed back muscles visibly exploded – the witnesses’ own words – to enormous size as she flexed and pulled at the van doors, and some swore that she was even lifting the vehicle off the pavement by the way she made the entire van shake like a leaf.

To their astonishment, there was a long loud shriek of metal as the girl ripped both doors right off their hinges with her bare hands, and she was seen holding up a torn, mangled door in each amazingly strong arm. Still holding the heavy doors aloft like trophies, the girl flexed her arms demonstratively. Even from the distant vantage point, her extraordinary muscles could be seen clearly, her huge biceps peaking like mountains as she proudly coiled her van-destroying limbs. From their distance, they couldn’t hear the crunching sounds as she derisively crushed the metal frame within her grasp, her fingers mangling steel like tinfoil with the power of her fingers. She then flung the doors away, tossing the heavy metal into the adjacent river like they weighed nothing to her.

…to be cont'd…

[reaper0002000]

…cont'd…

As the man opposite her made attempts to pull himself together, Mercy lamely added “It’s only a dream, I guess.” She awkwardly fidgeted a bit, and caused several seams to audibly tear under the bulges of her hardened bronzed brawn. The young beauty ignored the sound, and considered what the therapist had said earlier about dreams. Mercy pursed her lips, saying “In a way, I guess I have dealt with being molested. I think that’s why I now love building my body even more.” The psychologist eyebrows’ lifted at the remark.

She paused for a moment, and seeing she hadn’t made herself clear, tried to spell it out. “Because it makes me so strong. Strong enough to deal with ANY man who thinks muscles are sexy.” She thought that this conclusion, which she felt was insightful, might somehow spur the doctor back from wherever the hell he was to the here and now. But he still looked stunned. Absently, the powerful girl watched him take a deep, shuddering breath, visibly focusing on what she had just announced. Mercy cocked her head, waiting.

“That doesn’t make sense,” the therapist finally offered, objecting to the obvious fallacy in her logic. Mercy was so intelligent, he couldn’t believe she wouldn’t see it a mile away. “If you thought that muscles made you sexy, and you didn’t want the attention, you’d stop building your body. Not add to it.”

Mercy sighed, the side of her perfect mouth curling. “Doctor, my muscles… they're a given. A constant that can’t be taken away.” Seeing that she still didn’t make sense to him, the gorgeous young brute explained, “I can’t NOT be muscular. Like I told you earlier, I was born this way. It was written in my genes, and I’ve done as much research as I can to reverse it, but there’s no way I can see to go any further. Even gene therapy isn’t going to work on me.” She looked at him with a tinge of impatience, her blue eyes reading him – hadn’t he been listening earlier to everything she said about the projects she was involved in? She had talked about it in substantial detail.

Seeing that the man gave no response to her conclusion, Mercy licked her thin lips, and repeated herself for emphasis. “I’m always going to have muscles. It took a long time for me to accept it, but now I actually love my muscles again,” she said, and glanced down at her own massive, chiseled chest. A mere, slight tensing and both giant breastless slabs seemed to leap full inches. Mercy’s vest cracked, the material barely containing her unholy brawn. In fact, her shredded pectoral separations were clearly visible through the cloth, and her small areola were now fully outlined to the extent that the tiny tips of her nipples were actually exposed, pushing through the fabric. Just as the man thought that she was going to literally explode straight out of her clothing, Mercy relaxed, and her mighty chest receded, but only slightly.

She smiled at her awesome physical power. “Since I’m not going to be able to change, it’s not up to me anymore. The problem is men and their urges, it’s up to them. And men don't change — they all want the same thing. So to deal with whoever finds me sexy, I’m going to build even more strength and more muscle, more muscle than anyone can ever handle.” Mercy regarded him closely, and breathed out quietly. “Men will want me. And they will pay.” Her usually melodic voice was pointedly neutral, but there was a latent venom in those words… As he thought about that last statement with a shudder, he realized that the silence between them was again lengthening, and Mercy was regarding him quizzically. He swallowed nervously.

“Ultimately, I don’t think that muscles have anything inherent do with being sexy,” he told her, almost for lack of anything better to say. Still trying to make sense of all that had been explored, he went on, thinking things through as he talked. “It’s all in our heads, what makes someone sexual to someone else. For example, a lot of people don’t find girls with big muscles at all sexy. In fact, the effect is quite the opposite, I would say that it’s not attractive at all.”

Mercy opened her mouth, and then shut it again. She looked like she was about to make a rebuttal, but instead fell silent. She frowned, appearing upset and perhaps a little angry, but said nothing. Several full seconds passed. The hypermuscular girl continued to just sit on the couch, her smooth forehead furrowed in thought. Pondering his statement far more than he would have anticipated, Mercy pushed an errant strand of her brown hair back behind a broad shoulder with an absentminded flick of her wrist.

The therapist couldn’t help but flinch at the sight.

Just that simple, careless motion had orchestrated a rippling symphony in Mercy’s obscene, frightening muscularity. The coiling of her bare arm had made the huge, heavy bicep gather itself into an incredibly large, jutting mass, which the twisting of her wrist then further made explode into freakishly high, jagged steel peaks over the hanging bulk of her sculpted triceps. One enormous lat flared out, almost tearing through the armhole of her vest as it expanded under her arm. Her vein-strewn forearm had become a den of writhing snakes as she absently played with the ends of her hair, before tossing it back. As a result, her thick, sloping traps and bulging deltoids were also now exposed, the material of her sleeveless top clinging to a hulking ridge of ripped sinew that ended at a thick cap of brawn which showed chiseled vertical separations even when fully at rest. Her muscles were simply mindboggling. Without even trying, Mercy exuded unreal physical strength.

A drop of sweat fell from him as he tore his eyes away from the sight of her ungodly, casually mighty arm, trying to suppress the thoughts of what Mercy could do – what she had maybe done as a mere 10 year-old – with her incredible physique. With muscles like that, it actually wasn’t that difficult to imagine what she dreamed about being mortifyingly real. Not to mention that equally horrific and graphic report, descriptions of her vicious fearsome strength that he had read and prematurely dismissed as certain exaggeration.

…to be cont'd…

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