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Bobby was now glad for one important thing. That he had always thought that it was important that he always be in top physical shape. After all, not only was he soon to go into the service in a few months, but always being conscious of how he looked had always been an important factor in the way he felt.

There was also a third reason now why the 18-year-old man appreciated being in top shape. For the past hour now, he had been riding his bike either along with, or behind his most recent girlfriend, Barbi. And in spite of his knowing that at any time he could easily outrace her, he was constantly surprised and highly pleased when the 18-year old girl continually proved that she could stay right up with him. Like now, having ridden almost a mile up a steep hill, following close behind her to protect her from traffic, he was soon beginning to spend more and more time really ‘noticing’ her for the first time.

At first she was merely hunched over the bike handlebars, and as Bobby pulled up beside her, he had an unusual feeling deep within his loins as he noticed how her costume fit her. Her tiny cut-off T-Shirt, of a semi transparent material, was fluttering in the breeze, and from his position slightly behind her, Bobby gulped as he noticed that he could stare into the deep gap under her shirt and see the soft curve of her under breasts.

He was amazed to see that in spite of her not too small size breasts, she needed no artificial support. He could see her hard, flat tummy. He saw that her stomach was extremely flat, almost like a block of cement. He could see the only crease in her body, at her waist, almost hiding her tiny indented belly button. And then the slight curve of her lower belly before it disappeared into the low cut hip band of her jogging shorts. Like the material of her shirt, it was semi-transparent, and in fact at time he could see the bright sunlight through the thin material, seeing parts of her body that really surprised him.

Now, the most exotic feature of her totally overwhelmed Bobby. As the hot sun blazed down on their heavily sweating bodies, even his flesh looked sexy. As the sun gleamed off the muscles that were tensing and relaxing. As his arms and legs worked that bike up the hill. Yet it was nothing compared to the body of Barbi. And why? Simple. Because this wonderful young woman was in fact a black woman. Not pure black, but her flesh was the color of dark coffee, with just a twinge of cream. And as each muscle of her body tensed, strove to move that bicycle along the narrow country road, the bright, burning sun gleamed off her flesh, highlighting it in such a manner that made her look as if she were made of polished mahogany. The special effect caused by her body being completely coated with a sheen of perspiration made her look like a Queen of the Nile.

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I flew into LAX and when I came through the gate I saw Brittany standing there. She was even more beautiful than her pictures had allowed me to believe. I approached her and the closer I got to her the more intimidating she became. I watched her face light up in a smile that I interpreted as one which said, ‘this is going to be easier than I thought to break this one into little pieces.’ We hugged and I thought she was going to break my ribs or knock me out right there in the airport; but, she eased up and whispered in my ear, “that was just a little sample of my arm strength. I’m going to destroy you with them and then break you in half with my long, strong legs. You belong to my muscles.” I could only smile and respond as any male would when that close to a beautiful, powerful woman.

We walked down to get my baggage and Brittany made sure that she walked in front of me so I could watch the flex of those gorgeous legs of hers. We talked while waiting for my bags and she would verbally tease me every chance she got. My bags finally came out and I pulled them off of the conveyor belt. They were heavy and I suggested we find a porter to take them out for us. Brittany said, “don’t be silly, I’m stronger than any of them ever thought of being. I’ll carry the bag you think is so heavy; do you think you can manage the camera?” And she picked up my bag as if it were empty and off we went. When we had the bags loaded into the car she took my hand and placed it on her arm then she flexed. The muscle exploded and my hand could not fit around it. Brittany said, “this is what a real arm feels like and you are going to be feeling it a lot around your scrawny little neck and weak body as I crush you into unconsciousness.”

We arrived at my hotel, checked in and the bell man took us to the room. I had gotten a suite as Brittany had instructed me to. After the bell man had been tipped and he left Brittany walked over to me; wearing her 4″ heels she stood about 6’2″. I looked up into her smiling face as she raised her right arm and flexed her muscle in my face. She then grabbed a handful of hair and wrapped her arm around my neck in a headlock. “Put your hand on my arm and feel how hard my female muscle gets as I knock you out.” I touched her arm and the next thing I knew was Brittany straddling my body as I lay on the floor. When she saw me open my eyes she laughed and said, “You only lasted 3 seconds but I won’t put you out so fast from now on. I want you to squirm and cry and beg some. Now sit up and put your neck between my thighs. You may feel them as I crush you out again.”

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As Jim rode the Metro North train from the Connecticut suburbs into New York’s Grand Central Station, he was eagerly anticipating the coming hour’s event. The previous night he had telephoned in a response to an ad in Screw Magazine’s “Hells Belles” section. Along with the myriad ads for mistresses and dungeons, promising to do all sort of unspeakable things to one’s body, was one featuring “total physical domination” and wrestling. Jim had long fantasized about being physically dominated by a strong, attractive woman, being forced to submit repeatedly to painful [tag]submission[/tag] holds. After talking to Carol, the placer of the ad, Jim felt that he had just found the answer to his fantasies. Carol promised that she could easily make him beg to be released. She especially liked to work scissors and choke holds, and really got off on totally dominating her “victim.” Even more than her more “normal” trade, dominating men by bondage and spanking, she really loved using her body to punish them. After hearing all that, Jim immediately made an appointment with Carol for the next afternoon. Now his dream was about to be realized.

The walk from Grand Central to the 27th Street address Carol had given Jim seemed to take forever, Jim was so anxious for his match to begin. As he walked along, Jim dreamed of being held by Carol in various holds, but failed to understand how a girl who sounded so sexy on the phone could manage to squeeze a submission out of him. He had watched many videos of mixed matches where the women had the men yelling out agonized submissions, but it was always obvious that the holds were staged and the men were submitting “for the camera.” Although Jim was slightly built, at 5’8″ and 140 pounds, he felt he was strong enough to take any woman. Carol’s promise to make him beg for mercy seemed remote.

Finally he reached the address. He rang the doorbell, and someone buzzed him in. He climbed the two flights of stairs promised by Carol and knocked on her door. After a minute the door was opened by a very tall pretty blonde wearing an electric blue housecoat. “Hi, you must be Jim,” she said pleasantly. “I’m Carol. Come on in.”

Jim walked in to a pleasant apartment, dominated by several large wrestling mats placed on the floor. What furniture there was was pushed to one side. “As you can see, I have everything ready for our match. Do you have something for me, Jim?” said Carol.

Jim fished in his pocket and found the $200 they had agreed on. Carol took it into another room and quickly returned. “While you strip down to your shorts, I’ll go over the ground rules. Ok?”

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If her front view had been devastating, the view of her back was even more awesome, a wide “V” of rippling muscularity that tapered to her narrow waist as she slowly straightened her arms to reveal the incredible development of her triceps. Then, turning again to face him, she flexed abdominal muscles that stood out in bold relief like a washboard under the curve of her ribs.

“Enjoying the show, little boy?” she asked mockingly. “D’you like big girls? Me, I stand 6’8″ in my bare feet and weigh 265 lbs., all muscle! And I’m still growing!”

Tom tried to swallow, but his mouth was almost completely dry. “You–you’re unbelievable!” he was finally able to croak. “I–I didn’t think it was possible for a girl to have such huge muscles.”

She smiled faintly. “Lots of people think that,” she said softly. “As you can see, they’re wrong. Male hormones aren’t the only reason most men are taller and have bigger upper bodies than women. It’s a matter of genetics. Today only a few women have the genetics to develop muscles like mine, but as more and more women develop themselves physically there will be more of us born every day. Women’s bodies are inherently stronger than men’s; they have to be to be able to bear children. And in time women will have the size and muscle to go with their superior bodies, and then it will be men’s turn to become the weaker sex. And when that happens, we’ll take over and straighten out the mess you men have made of the world.” (click to read entire story…)

The new girl at Central High was the talk of the school from the day she arrived. At only fifteen years old, she was a veritable giantess, towering over six and a half feet in height, and looked like she weighed well over two hundred pounds, although only her broad, powerful shoulders and massive breasts were evident under the loose, high necked sweaters and baggy slacks she invariably wore. Her hands and feet, big even for a girl her size, were half again as large as the most of the boys’, and her dark hair, cut in a short page boy, framed solid, squarish, but strikingly lovely features which, though larger than life, could easily have adorned the cover of any fashion magazine and dispelled any notion that, despite her immense size, she might have been fat.

As luck would have it, she was given a locker right next to Tom’s, and as they exchanged their books after the first of their morning classes, his 5’2″, 110 lb. frame made him feel like a small child as they stood next to each other, his eyes barely reaching to the bulge of her breasts under her loose sweater. Although, like many small boys, he had always been fascinated by taller, bigger girls, he could not help but feel that this girl was far too overwhelming even for his taste. But she seemed not to notice his discomfort as she looked down at him and greeted him with a dazzling smile, “Hi! I’m Angie McPhallon. Looks like we’re going to be neighbors.” (click to read entire story…)