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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…)

Jerry Gilman yawned and wiped his face with a towel. He stared blearily at his watch. Slowly, his eyes focused on the face. 2:30 A.M. He carefully put down the soldering iron and stared at the device on his bench.

The Amplifier didn’t look like much. A tangle of wiring and integrated circuits. In the center was one of the new room-temperature superconducting chips. He’d had to scrounge it from the University’s Supplies Department…well, he thought…steal it, really.

The idea had come to him one day as he worked on his PhD thesis. He was working on a double doctorate, Cognitive Science and Electronics. His thesis had to do with ‘coupling’ to brain signals. Originally, he’d expected the work to lead to better EEG machines.

But a breakthrough had happened. Jerry had realized that there were two sides to communicating with the brain. And the new superconductors…He had been working like a fiend for two months. He hadn’t mentioned it to his thesis advisors–the implications were too huge. So he’d had to pretend to be working on his original thesis. This amounted to two full-time jobs, and the effort was beginning to tell on him.

He shut everything down and went to his apartment to crash. He slept for 48 hours straight, then returned to the lab.

In the light of day, the Amplifier looked even less imposing. His calculations and tests said it should work. But would it?

He placed the Amp into a small plastic box and put the unit in his pocket. In the other pocket went the heavy battery pack which would power it. Grunting, he made a note to work on minimizing the power requirements. A fine wire ran under his shirt, up his neck, and to a small adhesive patch on his temple. He covered the patch with a cap.

Inspecting himself in the mirror, he decided the set-up was unobtrusive enough. Only the thin wire was visible. He strolled outside onto the campus. It was a sunny, bright day, and the green quadrangle was filled with students. Jerry switched on the Amplifier. He staggered, almost fell to his knees. A wave of thoughts and emotions surged through his mind. Frantically, he fumbled for the gain control. At last, he had adjusted the Amp so that he could deal with the input. (click to read entire story…)

Late August we went to spend some weeks in the Alps with all the family. The panorama was idyllic: rocky mountains, luxuriant woods, meadows and pastures studded by crystal lakes. We walked many hours every day and enjoyed ourselves a lot.

One morning our kids remained to play with some friends in a beautiful park, full of games and attractions, so Alex and I went for a walk in a wood quite far away. The previous day and night I had been in charge, and Alex was wearing marks of my belt and teeth. Besides, he had his legs striped with red and blue bruises, because I had beaten him with tiny branchlets. He was very proud of those marks and ready to switch. He informed me with a steel voice: “Today I AM in charge, sweetie.”

For half an hour we followed a beaten path, then decided to enter into the thick of the forest. We went on for some minutes: at a certain point it was as if we were passing the threshold of an enchanted realm, and time was no more. The ground was crowded with fallen branches, rocks covered with musk, stones of different shapes and dimensions, tall grasses. A beautiful raven, black as the deepest night, was following us from the beginning of the morning and stopped himself to rest on the tallest branch of a tree nearby. Squirrels were playing. There was an exquisite fragrance of wet earth and mint plants. For a long time we remained silent.

At last my Master told me: “I think that this is the right place. The trees are dense enough, and there’s a good supply of the kind of wood I was looking for”. The wood around us was a mixed forest, partly made of conifers and partly of oaks and [tag]birches[/tag]. I was dressed in a wool sweater, a pair of orange shorts, and heavy shoes. At my neck I wore a silver collar with very big turquoises. In my earlobes there were eight small golden earrings and two large ones of silver and turquoise. They were so heavy that were slowly stretching my holes. Over his jeans Alex wore a very big belt, with an heavy engraved buckle. (click to read entire story…)

Author’s Note: This was written for a girlfriend of mine many years ago. She chose the motif for me to write about. All flames should be directed towards her. Alas, I know not where she is.

Her eyes adjusting to the faint glow of the monitor’s lights, she awoke. Every inch of her skin was cold, but that was to be expected after ten years in thermo freeze. The room was not as she remembered it. Once shiny metal cabinets were now covered with dust; debris littered the floor. She glanced over at the three other thermo tanks in the room, there lights were out. This meant that her companions had already evacuated or more likely that they were dead.

Slowly, she lifted herself off the bed on which she lay, ducking her head to avoid the glass cover which had protected her for the last ten years. She walked stiffly over to the next tank. Commander Barton’s body was still inside, while her pulse and respiratory indicators showed her to be dead. The other two tanks, which were reserved for the two men of the crew, also contained bodies with no detectable respiration or heartbeat. She was the only surviving member of her squad.

There were nearly a hundred squads of four in isolated control rooms like this. They were separated by several hundred miles. The rational behind this was that when the bombs started to fall at least one-third of the control rooms were expected to survive. After the nuclear winter had eliminated all human life the chosen ones would emerge from suspended animation and start over; at least those who survived would.

Her name was Jessica Martin, an architect, art historian, construction engineer and most important a fertile female. By her acceptance into the Savior’s program, she had agreed to become the mate of one of the members of her squad. He was a loathsome man with a genius level I.Q. This requirement had almost made Jessica reject the program’s offer, but she had wanted to survive the holocaust. It was almost a relief that his life support system had failed. Unfortunately, the only two other members of the Saviors program who could help her were also dead.

(click to read entire story…)

I am a dominant wife, and I dearly love to crush the male.

We’ve been married one year. I’m 29 and Gene is 26. I stand 5’10”, measure 37-25-36, and have won several beauty contests. Gene is 5’7″ and slender, and only his money attracted me. At age 23, he inherited a thriving business when his parents died; at 24, he inherited considerable stocks and bonds from an aunt. When we dated, and I discovered he could be completely dominated, I decided to share the wealth. He proposed, and learned he would have to be my slave. He agreed.

Even before the wedding I sought other couples to share fun and games. I found two perfect pairs. Bill and Ginger are 31; Don and Phyllis are 30. Each couple is socially prominent and dedicated to female domination. Bill and Don are big, muscular men who, unlike Gene, are bisexual. Although I ridicule and discipline Gene daily, Saturday night he is humiliated and punished by others.

We arrive at Ginger’s house about 9 pm. Each wife prepares her slave in a separate room. I know Bill and Don will wear rubber jockstraps and be unbound. I make Gene strip, fold his arms up against his back, and with cuffs and short chains I lock his hands to a collar. Naked and helpless, he is marched into the game room to stand at attention near us. Don and Bill, making drinks, pause and run their eyes warmly over Gene’s body.

The men kneel alongside our chairs while we three girls visit. Soon I designate one of the men to watch Gene and report if he relaxes his attention pose. When he does, Ginger or Phyllis gives him several hard swats with a paddle. One of them suggests nipple rings as further punishment. A heavy steel ring is snapped onto the tip of each nipple, and Gene’s penis rises and swells instantly. We girls laugh at his slim six inches and I tell him how inept he is as a lover.

(click to read entire story…)