Tuesday, December 23, 2008

THE CLUB - chapter 3


Chapter 3

By: Mr. Shhh

It was high-noon on stage.  Right before Mark’s eyes were 3 supremely-developed she-studs ready to square off with their monstrously-muscled physiques in a brutal, no-holds barred battle for ultimate bodybuilding superiority.  There were no guns on this battlefield, just soccer ball biceps, beer keg thighs and enough girl testosterone to fuel a hundred pro football leagues.

The tension in the room was almost as thick as the hormones on stage.  Already, a parade of increasingly jacked female bodybuilders had challenged the limits of Mark’s muscle fetish culminating with a naked, heaving girl-thing named Tanya flexing through every stitch of a sexy cheerleader’s uniform.  She was pretty much the living embodiment of Mark’s dark, twisted id torn straight from his brain and birthed in deeply-tanned flesh.  But the night was far from over, and for the first time in his life, Mark worried that the beefcakes ready to throw down might stand a chance of actually becoming gross abominations.  The rush was electric – equal parts fear and excitement.  Was there such thing as being too ripped?  Could these rippling mountains of monster mass become too freaky and huge even for him?

Looking over the 3 jaw-droppers, he could scarcely imagine an additional inch of muscle squeezed onto any of their maxed-out frames.  Hell, they could barely stand straight with so much grade-A beef packed everywhere.  Each girl’s arms were already forced awkwardly away from their bodies by their big, bullish lats.  Tanya’s two challengers, Krissy and Sun, were as swollen and jacked the biggest bodybuilders in the world at the peak of their flex yet neither had so much as raised a finger.  What the hell would the pose down to come turn them into? 

 “You’ve got a nice pump going… Tanya.”  Krissy started, her eyes analyzing the naked blonde’s hideous, mutant shape.  The sheer number of veins strangling each oak-brown limb was simply ludicrous, as was their alarming, throbbing girth. 

“…For a girl.”  She finished.  Was that an insult, Mark thought?  Didn’t they realize that they were girls?

“Hee hee.”  Tanya giggled, looking down at the limited anatomy her humongous pecs allowed her to see.  “You call this a pump?  I was just playing around.  Better stand back, I wouldn’t want to push you off the stage with my muscles!” 

The juiced-up bimbo bit her lip and started flexing herself into a storm.  A half-dozen crab flexes tripled the striations in every part of her body with alarming speed.  Skin screamed like bending metal as it struggled to contain her volcanic growth.

After a solid minute of grinning, straining crunches, Tanya lowered the Roman columns she called her arms.  Her sweat-sheened face now looked like something out of a horro movie, a weird combination of sultry beach bunny looks and jagged, Frankenstein angularity.  Veins were popping through her skin and snaking up her hairline in bunches.  Her eyes were crazed and lustful.

She had virtually no neck to speak of, just a stunted, vein-wrapped trunk twice the width of her head.  She was a solid, bulletproof anvil of girl steel from her ears down carved in bizarre, inhuman angles.  Everywhere were striations tied directly into her pecs, which themselves were two chemically amplified man-cannons disturbingly out of place on a young girl’s body.  They blasted-off from her bumpy profile like rock-hard flotation devices and ended capped by her inch long shot glass nipples.

The rise and fall of Tanya’s labored breathing made everything move – tendons, ligaments, blood vessels.  She was perpetually shifting and reforming ever tighter and more layered.  Mark thought it impossible for the other two to possibly match her sheer, hysterical conditioning, or even want to.  Tanya was in essence a photo-morph of male bodybuilder parts, amplified and exaggerated to disgusting extremes and capped with a pretty teenager’s head. 

He was almost right.  Any other bodybuilder would have been running for the hills at the mere sight of her.  To everyone’s surprise, Krissy and Sun only took Tanya’s sick achievement as a challenge. 

“That body might do okay in the women’s division, but Sun and I are used to facing men – and winning.” Krissy smiled.

The hulking brunette lifted an arm as thick as a man’s abdomen and flexing it right in front of Tanya’s face.  Her god-given genetics responded with unprecedented enthusiasm and a triple-headed pumpkin bicep surged skyward.  The other arm came up next and joined the first in a symphony of growth.  Muscles crumpled together and revealed their true, nightmarish potential.  Each crunch inflated the pretty teen beefcake more and more like a chestnut-tanned zeppelin.  Veins that had been millimeters thick became half-inch monstrosities.  Shoulders went from basketballs to beach balls.

A smile as big as the world masked the agonizing effort fueling her brutal transformation.  Krissy’s gorgeous face tightened noticeably with each pump, gradually looking less like a stunning college co-ed and more like an anabolic overdose with eyes.  Veins started at her forehead and spread to her temples and cheeks.  It wasn’t long before she was all pumping, throbbing vascularity trying desperately to strangle herself.

Mark’s heart was a pounding drum.  This was every secret fetish he had coming to life before his eyes.  There seemed to be no stopping these girls or their crazy desire for muscles.  They were totally out of control - God bless ’em!

Krissy was really going nuts, lost in her desire to prove herself to the others.  She turned and started crunching bigger, harder poses - her fists white-knuckled hammers of concentration.  Grunts and whines escaped her curled lips as she demanded her body to grow huger at any cost.  And grow it did to her orgasmic delight, her disturbing pride in that beastly body beaming like rays of light.

“Hannnnggggg!!!!   Grnunnnnggggggggggg!!!”  She spat through grit teeth, her lips stretched pencil-thin.  Her traps were two sausages as high as her ears abuzz with steel-tight tendons.  Her shoulders were football pads of solid mass.  They were impossibly shredded and detonating with huge, heaving vascular systems.

Finally, Krissy seemed satisfied enough to stop and turn to the others.  Impossible as it seemed, Krissy had not only matched Tanya’s jaw-dropping pump but surpassed it by miles.  Standing proudly for all to see, the previously human brunette was shredded beyond comprehension and choked from her face to her ankles with the most extreme vascularity outside of a medical journal. 

“…H-how do I … look… now?”  She gasped as her body twitched and spammed like it was electrified.

How did she look, Mark though?  Like steroid abuse on steroids.  She was gruesomely defined, lean and dry, yet absolutely buried in an avalanche of mass.  Her face was shrink-wrapped and veiny like some dried out mummy - her natural beauty stomped, smashed and pissed on.  She was a complete car wreck - yet somehow the demented extremity of it all made her hotter than hell.  That she supposedly belonged to the female gender amplified the twisted contradiction tenfold.  Her lipstick, blush and eyeliner were grossly unwelcome amidst such hydraulic-strength masculinity.  She was Hercules juicing on Popeye’s spinach after being blasted by Gamma Rays.    

This time it was Sun’s turn to take up the gauntlet.  Amazingly, the short Chinese girl delighted at her two rival’s twisted transformations. 

“Oh my goodness, you two are the hottest things ever!  Just looking at your jacked-up bodies makes me want to pump my muscles as hard as I can!  But how can ever hope to be as strong and beautiful as you…?”

Beautiful?  Hot?  Was this girl serious?  Mark almost knocked over the guys in front of him as he shouted and waved with an enthusiasm he’d never know before.

“You can do it!  Show them you can get bigger than everyone!!” 

A small portion of the crowd seemed to agree, though it was clear that most were paralyzed by the demented state that Krissy and Tanya had whipped themselves into.

Sun giggled.  A shy blush crossed her cheeks – ridiculous on a man-destroying muscle furnace like her.

“That’s sweet!  But I think I’m going to need some help…”

Without warning, Sun reached out a grabbed Tanya by the legs and shoulders.  Holding her smile, she flipped the 500 pound blonde beefcake onto her shoulders and lifted her up over her head.

“Hey --!”  Tanya blurted.  She didn’t get to protest before a demonstration began.

Jaws hit the floor from the back of the room to the front.  Without hesitation, the Chinese muscle prodigy started crunching Tanya up and down like a human barbell.  Each rep forced a painful noise from her twitching lips like someone was sticking her with a knife.  Her men’s posing suit – the only article of clothing hiding any bit of shame – started to disappear rapidly beneath increasingly humongous slabs of over-stimulated crotch muscle.  Before long, it was a black thong from both front and back desperately trying to contain the fistfuls of sex muscle churning beneath it.

Krissy could only watch as Sun snarled and grunted like the animal she was, spit running down her chin through her grinding teeth.  Her skin groaned endlessly, yet somehow continued to cope with the parachute-dimensions it was forced to cover.

“HHHHGGGGG!   GGGRRRRRRGGGG!  “ RRRRRRAAAAAAAA!!”  She screamed as the endless reps mutated her awesome physique into something vulgar and terrifying.  At the top of her rep, each of the girl’s arms were easily the thickness of Mark’s shoulders.  Each individual blade of her tremendous deltoids was as large as his head and growing by the second. 

“HHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGG!!!!!!” She screamed, her dainty voice becoming alarmingly coarse.  After about 30 power-packed lifts she held Tanya aloft at her apex.

Mark could hardly believe his eyes.  In this fully engorged state, Sun obliterated even Krissy’s frenzied contest condition.  The Amazon’s sexy face was now totally crushed in a vice of abominable he-brawn – veins surging wildly, eyes bugging, skin seconds from snapping. 

For the first time ever, the notion hit Mark that these crazy chicks were actively trying to purge their facial beauty the same way they had eradicated their breasts.  Like those extinct mounds of fat, feminine beauty was a sign of weakness, a soft, girly roadblock on the way to unyielding bodybuilding perfection.  There were no curves anywhere on Sun’s brutish physique, nor hips, a neck, a vagina or any shape other than an aircraft carrier flight deck.

“My god, Sun… you look incredible!”  Krissy cooed, her unnervingly female voice seeming transplanted into her androgynous man-body.  That her college-aged rival looked like the entire WWE shoved in a blender only seemed to turn her on more.  Sun’s poor face, straining to hold a smile, looked like so much striated pectoral muscle.  But Krissy was right – impossible as it seemed, Sun was more red-hot sexy than ever.  

The showdown wasn’t done yet.  In a surprise turn, Tanya hooked her gargantuan legs around Sun’s massive boulder shoulders. 

“I guess this means the warm-up round is over.  Now we can start pumping up for real.  Time to separate the girls from the bodybuilders!”

Tanya straightened up and grabbed hold of a large pipe on the ceiling. 

“Here it comes - pure mega mass – pure beefcake.  The biggest muscles… EVER!”

Tanya closed her eyes and started doing wide-arm chin-ups while simultaneously cranking out ab crunches using Sun as dead weight.  What was immediately clear was that Tanya was out of her mind with determination.  She was like a tween fixated on a boy band, only pointed inward and laser focused.    Mad muscle lust was virtually dripping from her pores as she whipped herself into a virtual orgasm of flexation.

“YYYYYEAAAAAHHHH!!!!”  She cried, her eyes like two beady dots in a bloodshot ocean.  Tears began to stream down her face joining the foamy spit gushing from the corners of her mouth.  Her neck and traps almost totally swallowed her head in just a few quick reps leaving her earless and misshapen. 

Mark was beside himself.  His shaking hand was covering his mouth.  He didn’t know what the hell he was witnessing – no one did.  There had never been a meeting of muscle-bound maniacs like these three girls.  Champion male bodybuilders were like children next to them.  Tanya was a bulging freight train about to fly off the tracks completely. 

Guttural snarls escaped here and there.   “…G-Grow b-bigger!!  G-get… huge!!  G-g-get … MASSIVE!!!”

Like a slave to her darkest whims, her body did all that she commanded and more.  Her shoulders kept mutating – knots of definition growing sharper and deeper.  Her pecs continued to tighten while simultaneously swelling in total, overwhelming volume.  Her arms, now thicker and meatier than even Sun’s gigantic girl pipes, filled the space between her fists and mid-abs.  Everything was so grotesquely disproportional that muscle groups blurred into one another becoming an endless dimension of sinew.

Finally, she let Sun go.  After struggling through a few more reps, Tanya dropped back to the ground like a solid block of dead weight. 

As she straightened up, more than one audience member fainted.  Wet and glistening from an ocean of sweat - pumped out of her mind and overdosing on hormones, she looked totally insane.

“Who wants to compare arms?”  Tanya panted, before lifting her stupendous super-guns and flexing her brains out.  The skin on her face was pulled back like Suran Wrap in an industrial press as she strained with demented glee.  She was more shocking now than either Sun or Krissy - twice as dried-out, three times as vascular - gaunt, angular and ghoulishly ripped.  By all accounts she was a full-on horror show, but even that couldn’t stop the diamond-hard boner that was ready to tear a hole through Mark’s pants.  Somehow, these grunting, hulking, man-destroying muscle beasts were hotter than all of the centerfolds on Earth.  Even better, they were getter nastier with every flex. 

Tanya looked like she was going to blow her load right then and there.  No one could match the ridiculous biceps she was packing and she knew it.  She could barely fit them under her fists as she held her pose.  But the topless challengers refused to be beaten.

“You win the arms race, Tanya.”  Krissy smiled.  “But I’ll bet neither of you can match my big, hard muscle tits.”

Sun and Tanya watched as Krissy walked to the side of the stage and easily lifted a barbell loaded with two hundred pound weights.  Instead of curling it, the beastly brunette began straining against it.  For the first few seconds, no one could figure out what she was trying to do, though it was clear she was putting forth a hell of an effort.  Her neck and traps exploded with veiny tendons. Her shoulders became big balls of inch-deep striations.

Then a whine from the barbell gave it up - she was trying to bend it. 

Grunts and moans filled the air.  Sweat dripped off her chin into the Grand Canyon groove that clearly separated her pecs.

“Gnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggggg!!!!”  She fought, ignoring the tears rolling down her shaking cheeks. 

More noises, like metal in a press.  Then the bar began to bend, but by now no one was looking at the bar – they were instead fixated on the twitching, ultra-ripped slabs of meat that were her pecs. 

Under the incalculable pressure she was applying, her chest blossomed into something truly unnatural.  The idea of breasts was a half-remembered fantasy.  Even her nipples, erect like sharpened steel bullets, were totally lost amidst the titanic volume of muscle mass.  Those twin-cubes of bloated testosterone filled the entire space between the bar, her biceps and her chin.  As she flexed with all her might, they shredded into a thousand living suspension cables.

“Huuuunnnnnnnnggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg!!!!!!!!!!”  She cried, her face spasming with pain. 

The bar continued to scream as it was crushed without mercy.  Krissy’s pecs flexed harder still, the striations doubling and re-doubling until they were uncountable. 

“HUNN! HUNNN!!  HUNNNNN!!!! HUNNNNNNNN!!!” Came the co-ed’s breaths, each more tortured than the last.  Her chest was out of control.  Each muscle looked as big as Mark’s entire upper body.  They blasted from her profile by almost two feet like giant-sized cinderblocks. 

The bar finally gave way a few seconds later.  Krissy finished twisting it into a “U” and dropped in on the floor.

Standing there in the aftermath of her superhuman effort, her lungs rose and fell with heaving, titan-sized gasps.  Her naked chest mountains continued to ripple with menace long after she had ceased commanding them.  As Mark gawked at her, he noticed they were so huge that they cast a shadow over everything below them. 

Krissy placed her hands on her chest and felt the burning sinew.  She lived for the thrill of those boulder-sized meat-plates.  Her dainty paws were lost in the epic expanse of tanned-brown muscle like orphans in a storm.  No bra could possibly contain her button-bursting monoliths.  The notion of ever wearing a bikini again seemed like a cruel joke.

“Pam Anderson… eat your heart out. “

Not to be outdone, Sun returned to the front of the pack. 

“You girls might have the bigger upper-bodies, but I guarantee none of you can beat my love-muscle.”

Putting her hands behind her head, Sun began tensing her sculpted abs.  A few good crunches turned each billiard ball mini-mound into a swollen, sinewy softball.  Detail increased with each breath until her entire 12 pack was as feathered and vascular as her thunder-thighs.  Calling her stomach 3-dimensional would’ve been a serious understatement as each individual muscle actually challenged her pecs for sheer depth.

But as magnificent as her stomach was, Sun had something bigger in mind.  Spreading her legs apart, she started flexing lower along her thick mid-section while simultaneously tightening her legs.        

 Again, the audience was confounded until the effects of her targeted flexing began to take shape.  Something the size of cooked ham was coming alive beneath her overburdened posing suit, writhing and straining with uncontainable muscularity. 

Veins fattened all the way up her inner thighs pumping blood by the gallon directly into her straining underwear.  Similar sausages flared along her stomach by the hundreds until it looked like her entire vascular system was being funneled directly into her churning crotch.  

“Unn….! “  Sun groaned in painful ecstasy.  “If only my parents could see me now… they were always disgusted by my big muscles.”

More flexing interrupted her feverish words.  Her face became intensely flushed and sweaty as she whipped her demented sex mound into a frenzy.

“…But they have no idea how bad I wanted to be huge… how big I’d make myself… EVERYWHERE!”

Throwing her head back, the muscle-bursting Sun grasped the back of her head with all of her crushing strength.  A wave of inhuman striations erupted through her chest, down to her abs and finally into her pulsing, rippling hips.  The sudden influx of multiplying muscularity was so tremendous that half the stitches in her posing suit split open at once.  The strangled material pulled tighter still, revealing a massive, double-fisted muscle-vagina into which it became effortlessly swallowed. 

But there was no relief from the destructive pressure her demented anatomy was forcing upon the poor garment.  With every new flex, the suit met the concrete-hard lips of Sun’s mutant vagina-thing.  It was an unyielding man-devourer, a grinding, steely crusher impossible to resist.  Even Krissy and Tanya couldn’t believe the insane amount of knotted muscle beef the titanic Chinese girl had stuffed between her legs.

“HHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!”  She cried, her head shaking uncontrollably - twisted and distorted like the nastiest muscle-freak imaginable.

One final, Earth-shattering super-crunch took out the entire posing suit in an epic avalanche of Amazonian fuck-beef.  The man-sized Speedo was reduced to a cloud of shreds fluttering to the ground.  What was left in its wake was a naked sexual organ that defied scientific classification.  Sun had effectively trained her immaculately-shaved vagina and surrounding muscles with the same focused, lunatic dedication as the rest of her anatomy resulting in an industrial-grade monster-maw.  It was literally nothing but veins, striations and absurdly bloated muscularity from her belly button to her upper thighs.  Nothing else remained at all. 

The dripping wet Asian relaxed her flex and peered down at her own ridiculous achievement.  What was should have been soft was a serrated mountain range of jagged angles.  The actual entrance to her womb to her body was crushed shut by nearby muscles too gigantic for the space provided.  Nothing fit together right -  everything was just too big and too gross.

            As if Sun hadn’t already made her point, she then turned around and displayed her naked ass for everyone to marvel at.  Even before tensing it, Sun’s muscle-butt was the smallest and most tightly-coiled ball of beef Mark had ever seen.  It didn’t even resemble an ass at all, man or woman’s.  Rather, it looked like a pair of shredded triceps surgically implanted where her glutes should have been.  Then with one hard flex, it transmogrified  into something a thousand times harder than diamond.  The millimeters of smooth flesh between the abundant feathering suddenly revealed even more cuts - her definition seemed endless.

Sun looked back at the crowd, her eyes barely able to see past her own watermelon traps.  They were deep pools of simmering lust aroused by her own juggernaut sexuality.  She could’ve literally fucked a man in half. 

Ms. Frost broke the silence that had filled the room. 

“It appears each of these slaves has something unique to offer their new master.  The question is: who will be the brave soul to take passion of these three muscle-bound beauties?”

Mark felt his parched throat contract, snapping him back to reality.  What if all of the disappointments he’d been through had been leading to this moment?  What if he was to get Tanya, Krissy and Sun all to himself?

At that exact moment, Mark’s erection could’ve smashed through solid rock.

Monday, December 8, 2008

No Contest by Ozzy

Here's a fantastic piece of artwork by regular reader and muscle girl artist extrordinaire OZZY. To see more of Ozzy's stuff, check out this thread on Amazons:  http://amaz0ns.com/option,com_smf/Itemid,135/topic,7317.0/  
Hopefully we'll see more original artwork from this fine artist gracing the site in the near future.  

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Delays... delays... delays...

Things have been pretty quiet on the blog lately and for that I appologize. Work continues on several new chapters of several old stories, but it's slow going. The next few weeks are very busy for me, but I'll do my best to get something posted as soon as possible. Thanks for your patience, everyone.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

THE CLUB - chapter 2

Chapter 2
By: Mr. Shhh

It was exactly one year ago that Mandi Miller entered the Club’s cavernous inner sanctum for the first time. She was met by a half-dozen figures, men and women both, gathered around a large oak table. They were shrouded in darkness like members of some sinister conspiracy. Cigarette smoke drifted in the atmosphere.
“Step into the light, Ms. Miller” One of them commanded. A pot light in the ceiling produced a harsh ring on the floor in front of her. The teenager stepped inside, bathing her golden-brown skin in an ethereal glow. She was incredibly beautiful – they wouldn’t have accepted anything less. Yet there was something special about her, even by their standards. Her face was already tight, with small veins snaking up and down her forehead. They could see her intimidating shape right through her clothes.
“How do you know my name?” Mandi asked, her high-pitched voice laced with an uncharacteristic apprehension.
“Don’t be coy,” The voice responded. “We know you lock yourself in your brother’s room for hours on end to use his weights. We’ve watched you tear pictures out of bodybuilding magazines and tape them to your locker. You work out with dangerously heavy loads until you nearly pass out from the pain. You masturbate to your own body while your pose in the mirror. Your classmates think you’re a freak and a monster, but that just drives you harder.
Mandi didn’t know what to say. It was all true. How could they know?
“Everyone tells you what you’re doing is wrong, but it isn’t. You’ve been invited here because you’re better than they are - stronger, more beautiful. But you know that already, don’t you?
Again, Mandi didn’t answer. She always thought it was weird that she turned herself on. She’d even had make-out sessions with the mirror. As for her strength, she did alternating curls with 140 pounds for reps. Even the football jocks couldn’t do that.
“The only question is, are you ready to join us?”
“I… I am!” She blurted out, surprising herself.
Murmurs flowed around the room. They had never seen a girl so eager. She was confident in her massive body – a rare trait with one so young.
“Show us. Take off your clothes…”
Mandi felt a chill run up her spine. She could feel their perverted eyes through the darkness, exploring the contours of her well-stretched clothes. Would they laugh at her like the boys she’d dated, repulsed by her unapologetic brawn?
Slowly, her hands moved to her coat. It took effort to peel it off as the sleeves were tight around her upper arms and shoulders. Her back flared wide, pulling her top to its limit.
With the coat gone, the beautiful blonde revealed the unmistakable V-shape of a world class bodybuilder. This pleased the room, which was impressed by her gigantic wingspan. Her arms were fighting a losing battle with her beefy lats - the limbs forced outward at an awkward angle that only added to her unnatural muscle-man swagger.
Taking her top, she lifted it off in one bold motion. The hot lights immediately struck the rich chestnut color of her ridiculous tan. She was incredibly dark, even for a bodybuilder. The light reflected off her hard, angular muscles like they were forged from steel. They looked just as hard and unforgiving.
Mandi held her wrists like an embarrassed child. It was arousing given how totally un-child like the smoldering Amazon really was. She was embarrassed, yet somehow exhilarated. She was a piece of meat on display, topless to strangers gawking at her demented shape - but no one had ever WANTED to see her muscles before.
At school, Mandi had been called a transvestite and a she-male, partly because of her underdeveloped breasts. The small nubs and pointy nipples were the only evidence on her entire upper body that she was even a girl. Though she was small overall, even dainty, her physique didn’t seem to notice. It was as if no one had told her that girls couldn’t build muscles like hers. She had 19 inch arms and a cut 10 pack on a body less than 5 feet tall. She should have been 80 pounds, but instead weighted a dense 230 without a shred of body fat. She was an anatomy chart of veins and striations even at rest. After a good pump she barely looked human.
“Your conclusion, Ms. Frost?” The voice asked from the darkness.
An elegant older woman in a red gown appeared from behind her. She ran a finger down Mandi’s over-inflated bicep, tracing a single marker-thick vein that was following its demented swell.
“Yes, she’ll do nicely…” The woman grinned.


“Let’s see some serious tits!” The man in front of Mark bellowed.
The red-gowned woman must have heard him, because she looked his way and flashed a knowing smile.
“Our third slave is a young exotic dancer working her way through college. She has a particular taste for costumes, which will no doubt please her new master. Welcome… Razor.”
The curtain drew back and something totally amazing happened. A pair of incredible, gravity defying breasts bobbed out into the pinky-blue stage light all by themselves. They were so long, large and beautifully shaped that the girl they were attached to didn’t follow them up until a full second and a half later.
Once again, Mark was floored by what he saw. He would’ve handed it to the organizers of the place for their ability to mix-up the muscle variety, but his brain was too busy getting kicked in the nuts.
“Razor” was a flesh and blood fantasy ripped straight out of Japanese animation. As she sauntered to the edge of the stage, her ridiculous endowments bounced around with the same over-exaggerated physics as a videogame character. She stopped and put her hands on her hips, giving the crowd a long look at the magnificent dimensions filling her eye-popping outfit.
The red-gowned woman wasn’t kidding – Razor loved to play dress-up alright. The 5-nothing hard body had transformed herself into a literal anime space-slut, complete with spiky, neon-pink hair and matching plastic mecha-armor. The armor itself was really just an uncomfortable micro-bikini saddled with complicated gauntlets and hulking, thigh-high hooker boots. It was all metal and chrome techno-parts digging into her carved curves in the lewdest ways possible. To top it off, she was sporting an elaborate helmet and visor that left only her supple, puffed-out lips visible to the world.
Mark shook his head in amazement. What the hell were they feeding these bimbos – hormone milkshakes? Razor giggled and hopped up and down sending her tits into a jiggling, Jell-O mold frenzy. The tiny plates of faux-metal that hid her nipples were totally outmatched by the heaping handfuls of chest meat erupting from everywhere. Even the fat, swollen lips of her cunt had swallowed-up most of her rigid underwear. It seemed like her voracious super-sexuality was on the verge of consuming her costume all together.
But as the mega-endowed cock tease pace back and forth, one thing was clear – she wasn’t just tits and ass. Razor was cut like a knife. She landed somewhere between fitness and bodybuilding – too thick for the former but too light for the later. That didn’t make her physique any less intense – quite the opposite – she may have been the most shredded girl yet. She had taken an exaggerated Playboy template and pumped it full of insanely lean girl meat. Everything was striated to hell and exploding with vascularity. Even her vagina, with its lust-engorged lips was devoid of an ounce of fatty softness. It looked sharp enough to draw blood.
The sexed-up stripper finally settled down beside Ms. Frost.
“Number 20,” she called.
Mark heard a scream of joy from somewhere behind him. He didn’t even turn around this time.
Razor walked off the stage towards her new “Master”. She passed by Mark, grazing his arm. His mouth dropped open at the fleeting, up-close glimpse of her. In that split second, he saw even more detail in her remarkable muscles. Her shoulders were so well carved they almost had right-angles. Her traps and neck were equally cut and swollen in the sexiest way possible. Razor glanced at him for an instant – but holy shit, what an instant! Her luscious Asian features were like melted sex. Her deep, lustful eyes alone were enough to fuel a lifetime of wet dreams.
And then she was gone – off to some asshole who “liked muscles”. Mark wanted to yell at the top of his lungs - “No one likes girl muscles more than me!” He’d take the Pepsi challenge any day! He even had a thing for Asians – especially tanned fitness models like Christine Wan or Krissy Chan. Hell, Razor was twice as tanned, three times as ripped and six times as stacked as both of them on their best day. She was sex personified wrapped in a skin of grade-A girl beef. Why the hell were they punishing him?

Mark didn’t notice, but Mandi watched him from the rear of the crowd. She could see his lust for Razor like it was a neon sign. Glancing at the red-hot stripper, she took in her obscenely fit bod.
“Hmmmffff!” The small bodybuilder thought. She jealously analyzed Razor’s biceps. Impressive, but nowhere near the size of her own cantaloupes.
Another bulked-up waitress walked by.
“What’s she got that I don’t?” Mandi huffed, glaring at Razor.
The other waitress glanced over.
“…Tits bigger than her head.” She answered.

Mark was still fuming when the red gowned woman began announcing the next girl.
“Anyone who lives in Southern California already knows our next slave – chances are you’ve fucked her already. Her insatiable sex drive has already made her a living legend and she’s not even finished high school yet. You’ve seen how big our girls can get – now witness what they can become on steroids. Welcome – Tanya!”
Even before the curtain flew open the crowd was already going bananas. Guys were literally pushing each other around to get a better view of the stage. A second later, Mark understood why as a muscle-bound Barbie doll packed into a hopelessly overmatched cheerleader outfit appeared before them. She was struck from a familiar template – the giggly, all-American beach bunny coated in a luxurious golden tan and capped with shimmering blonde hair.
But that’s where the clich├ęs stopped. As the scintillating sexpot lifted a pair of pom-poms, her clothes screamed beneath an onslaught of extreme muscularity that re-wrote the book on women’s bodybuilding. Her cute little head was crushed between two mutant-sized traps – shoulders the size of beach balls pulsated with incalculable power – traps wider than a doorway swelled like a meat-colored wall. The poor cotton uniform immediately split half its seams while the numbering on her chest became incomprehensibly stretched across a tit-less monster chest.
For what seemed like the thousandth time that night, Mike nearly creamed his pants. Tanya was seemingly torn from the darkest, most twisted recesses of his muscle-obsessed imagination. She was a creature of vein-pulsing testosterone augmented to irresponsible new heights by a glutinous diet of performance enhancers and animal hormones. The result was an androgynous he-beast barely contained in her own skin. She was the kind of “massive” that couldn’t possibly function in normal society. No clothes could ever hide her crushing shape and throbbing vascularity. She was a sideshow freak to be pointed at and ridiculed - a wig-wearing muscle-man lacking only the Neanderthal face that followed years of chemical abuse.
Smiling as she walked the stage, the 500 pound muscle-monster posed as if she were auditioning for cheer tryouts. She was working the room like a Playboy playmate, not a jacked-up Amazon. She giggled confidently and flashed her pearly teeth. Her beauty was absolute even as her face was assaulted by gaunt angles and crawling veins.
“Give me an M!” She giggled – her velvet smooth voice sounding like it was coming from someone else altogether. With the amount of juice she must’ve had in her she should have sounded like Sgt. Slaughter, not a bubble-headed valley girl.
With a little jump, she threw her pom-poms in the air. Her thigh-high skirt flapped upward revealing every striation in her refrigerator thighs. Tubes of vascularity converged on a set of sexy satin panties that were having trouble holding back a bowling ball mass of muscle-pumped vag-meat.
“Give me a U!”
More jumping. Arms as thick as men’s torsos fought with her cotton sleeves. More stitched ripped.
“Give me an S! Give me a C! Give me an L! Give me an E! What’s the spell?”
“Muscle!!” The crowd cheered.
“OH YEAH!!!” Tanya responded, suddenly lurching forward and crunching her humongous arms together in a Guinness record-shattering most-muscular. Her clamped teeth and straining face signaled a surge of super human power throughout her entire body. It started with an unprecedented eruption of veins through her grinning face – literally dozens of fat, purple sausages pushing through her cheeks, nose and temples. At the same time, her traps swelled right past her ears and nearly to the top of her head. Shoulders, triceps, lats – everything tripled in size in a second under the command of her all-consuming pump.
Mark would later describe the noise as like an explosion - it was the instant her clothes disintegrated before his eyes – all of them at once and with the supreme authority of an atom bomb. Tanya’s total body flex was so monumental that every inch of her outfit burst open at the same time and flung from her body in a furious cloud of cloth and stitches.
“GGGGGNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!” She groaned in ecstasy as her muscles went super nova. She was swimming through a steroid fever dream. The crowd could see her fists shaking with white, veiny knuckles – she was putting her all into it that was for sure.
Tanya was now the Incredible Hulk with a cunt. Her chest was a ballooning pillowcase of swollen striations cris-crossing and cut like the strings of a harp. Pecs pressed against her chin, shoulders and biceps – they even met her hugely swollen upper abdominals. Her arms were the thickness of old growth trees, only a thousand times more detailed. Her back became an endless expanse of heavy muscularity thicker and denser than any ever seen and giving her the appearance of an aircraft carrier.
Then another cute voiced called Tanya out.
“Not bad, Tanya! You’ve been working out!”
The curtain drew back and two more Herculean muscle-beasts walked out into the light. As impossible as it seemed, these new girls were in the same class as the naked muscle mountain that had just flexed through her wardrobe. They stood there in nothing but a pair of men’s posing Speedos – the tiny bathing suits hiding nothing but their bulging crotches from the ogling crowd.
The red gowned woman returned to the stage with mike in hand.
“It seems our next slaves just can’t wait to join the fray. Neither girl is a stranger to extreme muscularity having been the first women to compete against the largest male bodybuilders in the world. Please welcome Krissy Snow and Song Xiu – rivals for the title of Mister – or rather Miss Testosterone!”
The two new muscle girls were a few years older than Tanya – maybe college-age. Like the overdeveloped blonde, they were both beautiful beefcakes with porn star sexiness burned into their DNA. Their covert infiltration into the ranks of competitive male bodybuilding had left them with short-cropped haircuts, but it did little to dissuade their ember-hot sex appeal. Krissy had brown hair and lustful mid-western features. Song was an exotic Chinese girl and every part the simmering sex kitten. Neither was very tall, but what they lacked in height, they definitely over-compensated for in raw, industrial-strength muscle mass.
“We’ve been working out too, Tanya.” Krissy continued. “Wanna see?”
“Esteemed members of the audience, I believe what we have here is an official muscle-off.” The red gowned woman injected.
“Hmmph! I was just getting warmed-up.” Tanya pouted as she straightened up to face her new challengers.
Mark’s mind shorted-out like a cheap circuit board. Each one of these grunting she-behemoths was easily the most muscular human being that had ever waked the earth – man or woman – natural or chemically enhanced. Now he was about to see them pitted against each other in a no-holds-barred show of ultimate muscular supremacy. How much muscle could even HE handle before it was just too much to take? Was there a point where it went from boarder line attractive to downright revolting? Swallowing nervously, he had a feeling he was about to find out.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

The results are in!

Thanks to everyone who participated in the very first MUSCLE MACHINE readers poll. Watching the votes roll in was a real blast, as were the unpredictable final results.

The big winner wasn't too much of a surprise. Your favorite series (by a large margin) remains HARDBODY at 36%. The story of a shy, introverted cutie with a raging hunger for muscles? What's not to like?

More surprising was the adventures of juiced-up bimbo TANYA DANIELS ranking second at 17%. Who says steroids can't be fun? I always imagined the glamorous and aggressive Tanya as the polar opposite of Jenna (except in the muscle department), which might explain the 2nd place finish.

THE CLUB got the bronze at 15%. This is the series I voted for since it has a bit of everything. Plus, I can't wait to see who's strongest, the leanest, the horniest...

It was nice to see that every story has a few fans. DANCER ranked lowest, but that's what you get for featuring ONLY fitness-level muscularity. ... Right? (Check out the 2nd MUSCLE MACHINE reader's poll to answer another burning question.)

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Muscle Machine reaches 50,000 hits!!!

Wow - that's all I can say! Who'd have thought this teeny-tiny site would ever reach a milestone like this? A million thanks to everyone who reads and comments on these stories and puts up with the most erratic posting schedule imaginable. All of your support has been an inspiration.
Lots of great stuff coming in the future including the much-requested second part of THE CLUB. Stay tuned!

Thursday, July 24, 2008

WAR INC. - mission 4

Mission 4
By Mr.Shhh

“What the hell are you doing, Cronenweth?!” An angry voice crackled in the Lieutenant’s CODEC.
The undercover operative barely heard the noise in her ear over the sounds of snapping bones and cartilage. A 300 pound merc gurgled blood as the muscle-bound hard body brutally choked him from behind with her automatic weapon. Pumped-up biceps as big as cantaloupes tried to rip through sweaty, paper-thin skin that was already overwhelmed by dozens of inch–thick veins. Shoulders rippled with eye-popping detail and brutally distinct muscle heads.
With a teeth-clenched snarl, Cronenweth suddenly tripled the piston-like pressure. The small girl’s awesome back flared with such meaty girth that it surpassed the massive man’s total width. Dozens of stitches split open under an eye-popping surge of muscular girth – all of it ghoulishly lean.
The big, metal weapon actually began to groan as it bent under the British bombshell’s unyielding strength. Bolts and springs flew everywhere at the very moment the merc’s spine cracked in half.
A limp body hit the floor. Sweat dripped from the panting girls’ wet hair and etched Greek-goddess features. She didn’t waste a second swapping her useless gun for her brutalized opponent’s.
“You cannot engage the enemy!” The CODEC screamed. “There are two-dozen men in that tower!”
“I’m retrieving that guidance chip.” Cronenweth finally responded, her sizzling, phone-sex voice cool and emotionless. The men on the other end of the transmission knew that tone well – it was usually followed by millions of dollars worth of collateral damage.
“Do not engage the enemy Lieutenant! That’s a direct fucking order!”
“Suck my dick.” The operative spat.

Yazin shook hands with a stoic man with short-cropped grey hair. He was joined by a pair of well-armed bodyguards.
The man took off his sunglasses and looked over the large crowd. He seemed unimpressed.
“Do you have our merchandise?”
Yazin reached into his coat pocket and produced a small, plastic case.
The man took it and opened it. He seemed pleased by the small silicon chip inside. Yazin was handed a briefcase.
“That’s what I like about you corporate types.” The Egyptian smirked. “You’re all business.”
Just then, the entire building shook as if it was hit by an earthquake.
“What was that?” The serious man spat.
Dust sprinkled down from the high ceiling as another shock hit the building. The pampered guests paused from their hedonism.
A group of mercs pushed through the crowd and found Yazin. Their radios were alive with screaming.
“Mr. Yazin, we’re under attack!”
Yazin listened to the chaos. He caught a single, terrified voice through the chaos.
“-- Jesus, look at the muscles on her--!”
Slowly, realization filled his eyes.
“What did you do with the girl?” He shouted at the merc.
“The Girl! The bodybuilder! The bulging bitch!”
The merc had no idea.
Yazin snatched the radio from his shoulder.
“This is Yazin. All units converge on the atrium!”
The serious man put his hand on Yazin’s shoulder.
“What the hell is going on, Yazin? Who is this girl?”
“Just an annoying little fly begging to be squashed.”
Explosions shook the rear entrance to the room. Twenty new mercs joined the smaller group. The heavily armed men shoved guests aside and took up fortified positions behind whatever they could find. Two men set up mounted, chain-fed weapons locked on the entrance.
Tension was thick as the noises behind the door grew closer and louder. Gunfire, explosions, anarchy.
Suddenly, the doors blew off their hinges. The entire force of mercs opened fire, annihilating the wall around the smoking entrance. After 10 uninterrupted seconds or gunfire, the barrage ceased.
Yazin squinted through the hazy room. Even the terrified crowd leaned in with interest.
A pair of grenades appeared through the smoke and bounced along the floor.
Before anyone could react, the explosives blew three men apart and shattered one side of the floor to ceiling windows surrounding the atrium.
Cronenweth rushed the room – her ridiculous, porn star tits rebounding everywhere as she gunned down another two mercs with a clip of well-aimed shots. The rest of the room was in awe at the stunning, half-naked bodybuilder brazenly flaunting her impossible body.
The mounted guns opened fire on the over-inflated operative. Cronenweth rolled behind a huge stone pillar as high caliber rounds shredded everything around her. Chips of stone and wood cut her legs and arms and tore her tattered, cum-stained dress.
The two guns pinned the pumped-up professional behind a large Egyptian artifact – one of a series of museum pieces installed around the room.
Cronenweth looked to either side of her. Men were already reloading their weapons and advancing towards her.
“You’re finished you disgusting cow!” Yazin screamed from somewhere in the room. “Those freakish muscles won’t save you!”
Cronenweth looked up at the artifact – in fact a 20 foot high solid stone obelisk detailed with hieroglyphics. Crouching down, she dug her back into the face of the artifact and grit her teeth.
Looking blankly into the sky, the rippling, vein-engorged she-stud began pushing against it with the full power of her unbelievable body. Her wet, naked thighs immediately detonated with a megaton of hyper-trophied detail. Every overblown muscle group in her legs, from her ankles to her crotch tightened into a striated super-orgy of definition. Ropey striations pressed through her screaming brown skin bringing with it what seemed like every last artery and vein in her legs.
Cronenweth let out an earth shattering scream. It was her body versus the colossal, multi-ton obelisk. In ancient times it would have taken dozens of men to move it, yet this big-chested piece of ass was determined to do it herself.
Cronenweth’s face quickly went red from the nightmarish effort. Popping veins spoiled her good looks as she applied every ounce of her unyielding will.
“GNNNNGGGG!!!!!” She gurgled, sounding more like some deep-throated animal than a big-titted bimbo. Her bulldog neck was alive with dangerously swollen vascularity and steel-tight tendons. More of her battered dress split open under wave upon wave of swelling pec meat and monster mega-traps.
A small trickle of tears rolled down her face as she pushed herself to the very limit of human endurance. Her body was convulsing uncontrollably. Every muscle in her already super-lean physique took on a freakish level of definition. What tenuous grasp she had as a member of the female gender literally evaporated as she hulked-out into a beastly, horrifically-muscular man-thing.
Then, a crack. The entire obelisk shook and Cronenweth felt herself move an inch backward. There was no time to celebrate as a pair of mercs appeared beside her. She caught their silhouettes through the smoky air and snatched a heavy machinegun in each hand. Still battling the artifact at full power, the butched-out she-stallion opened fire on both advances at once.
“HNNNNNGGGGGAGAA!!!!” She cried, her voice dripping with lustful fury as she poured on the killing power. Her vein-covered face looked ready to burst as it went a disturbing shade of purple. Another pair of men came up behind the first two and were gutted by a hundred steaming rounds.
CRACK! Hairline fractures advanced further along the base of the stone. The remaining gunmen unleashed a hellish barrage of fire that nearly deafened the savage operative. A wave of destruction tore apart the room behind her and began to chip away at her cover. She wouldn’t last much longer pinned-down. It was now or never.
Gripping her weapons with bulldozer strength, Cronenweth flexed herself in what could only be described as an all-out muscular orgasm. Whatever tiny bits of her dress remained were utterly obliterated beneath a savage eruption of elephantine girl-mass.
“GGRRRRRRAAAAAAAAGGGGGGG!!!” Cronenweth roared as her body mutated into something both more than human yet shockingly subhuman. She was nothing more than a throbbing, pulsing collection of veiny sinew. Delts to biceps, pecs to lats, everything mashed together in a grotesque frenzy of hyperactive growth.
The entire base of the obelisk finally cracked all the way through. Everyone in the room gasped as the towering hunk of stone began to tip like some drunken, lumbering giant.
Yazin and the grey-haired man dove out of the way as the obelisk came crashing down around them. With a booming thunderclap, the massive stone tower drove right through the floor, crushing the rest of Yazin’s security forces in the blink of an eye. A cloud of smoky debris poured through the room.
Cronenweth moved through the shaken party guests with laser-focused intensity. She had a mission to complete and didn’t seem to care that she was naked from head to toe save a skimpy g-string stuffed with ammo clips. The guests gawked at her ludicrous double Ds and out of control steroid physique in total shock. She was a sultry, sexed-up fuck toy and monstrously-muscled war machine in equal measures.
“Get to the exit behind me. MOVE!” She barked, picking up shaken men and women and pushing them roughly to safety. “Keep your heads down! Don’t look back!”
One guest grabbed the operative’s bulging arm.
“My husband’s trapped! Please – you have to help him!”
Cronenweth followed the panicked woman to a man pinned beneath a heavy steel girder. Three other guests were already trying to lift it up, but it was too heavy.
Cronenweth slung her guns over her shoulder and pushed the 3 guests aside. Everyone watched in awe as the gorgeous, sweat slicked blonde crouched down and took an underhanded grip.
Muscles shifted and tightened across the girl’s tremendous, brick wall back. Her muscular ass shrunk into a steel-hard grip of inch-deep striations that looked absolutely bullet proof. As she leaned forward, her ridiculous tits squashed against the steel and pushed into her face.
Everyone watched her already grossly masculine physique erupt with more over-stuffed vascularity as she powered the solid steel girder off the man. Her tits dropped free and jiggled around as she held the hunk of steel aloft.
“Get him out of there…!” The hard body ordered in her out of place girl voice.
The others slid the injured man free and Cronenweth dropped the girder like a used tampon.
“T-thank-you!” The woman gushed, holding the stunning super-girl’s hot, wet skin.
Before Cronenweth could respond, a weird, blade-like weapon cut through the hazy atmosphere and sliced her shoulder. Blood sprayed across the woman’s face as operative screamed.
A thick chain shot out of nowhere and wrapped around Cronenweth’s neck. Before the operative could react, she was brutally yanked off her feet and flung into the girder.
The gagging lieutenant tried to get a grip on the chain. Again, she was wrenched off her feet and tossed like a rag doll. She was thrown through a series of plate-glass windows before landing hard on the rubble-strewn floor.
The battered blonde tried to gasp for air, but the chain was choking the life out of her. Her face was a gross, purple mess.
Then at once, the chain unhooked. Her skin was rope-burned as it whipped back to its owner like a snake.
Through blurred vision, Cronenweth looked up to see a gigantic, towering figure standing before her. She quickly recognized the manly features and military haircut.
“Olga…. D-Damanov…” The Brit gagged, blood oozing from her luscious mouth.
The gargantuan Russian clung to 2 deadly blades mounted at the ends of heavy, navy-grade chains. To Cronenweth’s surprise, the terrifying woman slowly lowered them to the ground.
The room went unnervingly quiet save the noise of scattered fires. It was like some strange vision of hell – a ruined paradise hot with sweaty tension.
With a flick of her big hands, Damanov ordered her opponent to her feet. Cronenweth fought her pain-wracked body and stood up before the Russian beast.
The size difference between the two women was unreal. At 5’5, the small Brit looked like a child next to the Russian’s skyscraper-like 7’5. Damanov also had hundreds of pounds on Cronenweth and looked every bit of it. The bigger woman’s lumbering, rhinoceros swagger was truly terrifying.
Damanov ran her eyes up and down her opponent’s naked flesh. There was no doubt that even the colossal Russian was impressed with Cronenweth’s mind-boggling muscles. She jealously fixed on the gently wobbling tits that were so ridiculously out of place on the girl’s steel-hard physique.
Bringing her Herculean arms out in front of her, the bunker-thick Damanov locked her fists and flexed hard. A crazed grin formed on her face as her uniform tightened to its limit. With another flex, the seams of her outfit burst one by one.
Cronenweth’s eyes widened as the genetically altered Russian bear literally exploded out of her clothes. Her already brutish shape filled-out with heavy, microwave-sized blocks of human concrete.
Damanov roared like an animal and shook with brutal power. Her pale, heavily scarred skin screamed as hundred-pound muscle slabs filled it to bursting. Arms thicker than men’s entire bodies stretched and groaned. Shoulders like medicine balls split into individual heads.
Spit dangled from the crushing teeth of the Russian super-freak. Her face bubbled with twisted heaps of vascularity fed through a neck that was almost totally consumed within the rest of her torso.
Damanov lowered her arms at her sides and flashed a shit-eating grin. It was a throw down - she was literally pitting her own science-lab physique against Cronenweth’s substantially smaller mega-body. Did the British beauty have what it took to compete?
Silence filled the air as the hulking girl-things stared each other down. Naked from the waist up, it was brutally clear that Damanov’s bulldozer-body was an affront to nature. Every weird, mountainous inch of her was a poster-child for irresponsible science bent on ultimate muscle-mass at any cost. No one could compete with Damanov – she was a single-minded semi-truck of violent physicality.
But Damanov hadn’t counted on the over-sexed piece of blonde fuck meat that stood before her. Cronenweth could already feel her pulse rising to the impossible challenge. Her veins were filling with enough super-concentrated girl testosterone to drown an entire gym of beefcake bodybuilders.
With steel-crushing strength, the naked muscle-slut tightened her fists into diamond-hard hammers. Her freaky, sweat-soaked forearms groaned like leather as they inflated with eye-opening thickness. The longer she held her grip, the more brute-size poured into her. Veins multiplied by a factor of ten, pulsing and snaking up her arms in surging waves. Inch by inch, everything became utterly consumed by those fat, purple blood-hoses until she was totally devoured by them.
Cronenweth didn’t notice or care about her bleeding arm, raw neck or the two-dozen other gashes and cuts. She could’ve given a fuck about beauty or tits or curves. Her entire essence was now machine-focused on showing the ballsy Russian cunt-stain who had the better body.
Damanov watched the blonde muscle-machine grind her teeth together, forcing pectoral-like striations to press through her jaw. Veins popped through her temples in fat, flexing wads thick enough to hold. Breathing became painfully labored as the operative’s body demanded oxygen to fuel her unprecedented pump.
The furious fembomb brought her massive arms together in superhuman flexation, literally becoming a walking muscle-factory pumping out pure, unrestrained monster-mass.
“Gnnnnnnnnnngggg!!!!!” She growled; spit bubbling through her teeth as she ratcheted-up the intensity. Her pecs tightened into beefy, iron-hard balloons as big as any 3 steroid abusers’. Steel-cable striations ripped apart her stretched-out skin and fought for space against her bulbous, planetoid delts.
Fury bubbled within Cronenweth’s outraged opponent as the impossible took place before her eyes. Somehow, this jiggling bimbo half her size was actually pumping-out muscles big enough to rival her own genetically-altered gorilla physique.
With an earth-shattering roar, Damanov stomped her feet and powered out a colossal crab-flex. Her eyes were insane pinpricks devoid of restraint, mindlessly fixed on ultimate mass. Car-crushing power forced the hideous Russian monster to go nuclear, detonating with a literal ton of industrial-grade muscle beef. Her pea-sized head and GI JOE buzz cut almost completely vanished beneath the all-consuming tidal wave of girth threatening to fill the entire building.
At this point, both women were out of control. They were terminally locked in a twisted pose-down of epic proportions. Any reasonable sense of restraint was smashed as each skin-stretching, testosterone-pumping girl-abomination gave in to the oceans of muscle-lust flowing through them.
Cronenweth looked at the battleship-sized monstrosity across her with stupid, pig-headed determination. Her wet eyes spewed defiance. Fuck you, you man-bitch – they seemed to cry. You think you can out-flex me?
“HHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!” The naked Brit beefcake wept - sweat flying everywhere as she flexed her guts out. Her arms rattled in a full-on double biceps that sent her shape into the stratosphere. Lats like sides of beef blew out to retarded, wings-like dimensions. Biceps subdivided into multiple heads stacked as high as her shaking fists. At the zenith of her fury, the blonde’s overburdened panties finally gave up under a high-pressure, crotch-meat overload. With a sudden snap, Cronenweth’s frighteningly developed muscle-vagina flexed its way to freedom beneath an all-or-nothing surge of vein-engorged muscularity.
“GGGGGGRRRRRRNNNN!!! HHHHHHRRRRRNNNNGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!” The girl boiled as liquid testosterone powered her to superhuman heights. Her stunning good looks became completely buried beneath a nightmarish car wreck of face-stretching effort.
Damanov was livid. While the jiggling Amazon still couldn’t match the Russian for pure size - proportionally, it was now clear the smaller girl utterly destroyed her. Even more so it was her glistening, vacuum-sealed definition that made the muscular Russian look like a flabby water-balloon. Every twitching, steel-tight muscle group was excruciatingly chiseled and inflamed beyond any limit. Damanov simply couldn’t match her ridiculous mixture of hulking, he-man thickness and vein-ripped conditioning.
Finally, the gorgeous blonde lowered her heavy, bloated arms. She was breathing uncontrollably now. The tremendous rise and fall of her watermelon breasts made a wet smacking noise. Sweat washed down every jagged surface and dripped off her weird, bulbous dimensions. Standing there completely naked, she looked out of her mind with ferocious, muscle-fueled strength.
Cronenweth’s eyes focused on Damanov like weapons of mass destruction. Both women knew there was no contest - not anymore. Cronenweth was almost too muscular to believe. She was sickeningly jacked. Even looking at her, Damanov couldn’t accept a girl her size could possess such a lunatic physique.
A window-rattling roar welled up from the genetic experiment’s humongous chest. In an instant, she broke out into a charging attack. Before Cronenweth could react, Damanov plowed into her and drove her through the wall behind them.
A mass of sweaty, naked flesh crashed into the smaller room. Damanov wrapped her oven-mitt hands around the smaller girl’s neck and whipped her back outside.
Cronenweth cried as she scraped along the ground. Damanov was back on her in a flash and wrenched her up. The huge Russian locked the battered operative in a hydraulic-strength bear-hug that buried her entire body in muscle-meat. As the heaving girls thrashed about, they became an indistinguishable mass of writhing anatomy. Biceps, pecs, abs, glutes, calves – it was all just twisted definition.
Spit flapped from Damanov’s mouth as she applied enough forced to shatter granite. Cronenweth’s muffled voice could be heard somewhere inside the cube of flesh that was flinging sweat everywhere. Anyone would have been liquefied by the pressure, but the Russian seemed to be unable to crack the bulging Brit.
Slowly, Damanov felt a piston-like force begin to pry her open. Steel-hard bulges pressed against her body as Cronenweth’s muscles swelled with alarming intensity. Damanov poured on even more chemically-enhanced strength but still found herself relenting. No one was that strong!
Then the giant Russian felt her opponent’s hands clamp down on her wrists. She seemed powerless to stop the blonde Brit from wrenching her car-crusher grip wide open.
Cronenweth held her opponent in a painful crucifix, cruelly forcing Damanov to drink in a long, punishing eyeful of her over-the-top muscularity – from the veiny maw of her mutant muscle-cunt to the hulking, side of beef lats that were on the verge of swallowing her up. She might as well have stabbed a knife in the Russian’s heart – there was simply no comparison who had the better body.
A rush of panic hit Damanov as she suddenly felt her arms continue to pull apart. Her struggle to break Cronenweth’s iron grip became increasingly desperate until she was thrashing about like an animal. First, her joints reached their apex – both shoulders and elbows. Pain flowed into her like syrup as the room filled with muffled “cracks”.
Had her cold war masters been here to witness it they still wouldn’t have believed her, yet here she was being taken apart by a sexy young slut less than half her bodyweight. Damanov was at the mercy of Cronenweth’s impossible brawn, but there no mercy for her tonight.
Every vein in the Brit’s Amazonian body surged to the max as she applied all of her incalculable might. Her menacing V-shape finally outstripped Damanov’s total width and seemed to reach the apex of her awesome potential. Her ass was just clenched striations of high-tensile steel. Her shoulder and arms were terrifying tree trunks with peaks on top of peaks.
With a horrible sound, the struggle between strength and limbs was unequivocally decided. Cronenweth was doused with blood as Damanov’s arms tore free like thick tubes of meat. The giant Russian was kicked backward through one of the few remaining windows, which shattered spectacularly and sent her plummeting to her death 50 stories below.

Cronenweth emerged on the rooftop of the building moments later. She was a ludicrous sight to behold - naked and wet from head to toe with a mixture of sweat and blood. Her incredible tits bounced all over the place as she rushed up the stairs into a swirling vortex of wind.
A military helicopter was already lifting off across from her. She quickly spotted Yazin, who threw her a cocky salute before sliding the door shut.
The Brit wasted no time opening fire. Bullets danced up the tail of the chopper like fireworks. Veins tore through the girl’s biceps and chest as she poured her screaming fury into the weapon. Slugs hit the fuselage and a trail of smoke poured forth.
Slowly, the chopper arced around and locked its sight on the pumped-up bodybuilder. Cronenweth was quickly outclassed by the chopper’s heavier guns and dove back down the stairs as a trail of destruction tore past her. As she got back on her feet, the chopper came back around for another pass. The operative ran for the door as the entire stairwell exploded in gunfire.

Back inside, Cronenweth knew she didn’t have much time. A second later, the helicopter came down beside the windows. Floodlights blinded the bulging blonde as it hovered at her level. Wind was blowing debris everywhere. Squinting through the chaos, she spotted a pair of missile pods on either side of the chopper.
In an instant, she broke into a sprint. The chopper unleashed both pods at once, utterly obliterating the building behind her.
The destruction followed her as she ran with every bit of speed her massive legs could give her. As she came up on the end of the room, she reached down and scooped one of Damanov’s chain blades.
Without missing a beat, Cronenweth smashed through the window and out into the sky an instant before fire consumed the building behind her.
With a hard throw, she managed to catch the blade on a neighboring building. The chain went taught and the muscle-bound mega girl swung on a wide arc and crashed through the window of another skyscraper.
A startled couple lurched up from their bed to witness the naked, mega-buff bombshell land on their floor. She lay on the ground amidst a pile of glass catching her breath.
“Who the hell are you?” The guy shot.
Cronenweth got to her feet and glanced at them. They both gasped at her ridiculous man muscles and porn start breasts – not to mention her piercing, erotic beauty.
Turning back to the city, the operative could only watch as the helicopter flew away in the distance. She tightened her fists until her forearms were so fat with muscularity that they started making leathery noises. The terrified couple gawked at her swollen arms and massive, meat-packed back.
“W-what do you want…?”
Veins snaked menacingly up the blonde’s big biceps and into her violently shredded chest.
“That son of a bitch,” Cronenweth hissed. “Dead.”

Thursday, June 12, 2008


Chapter 1
By: Mr. Shhh

Mark looked over the ominous black business card one more time. Its message was very simple – Your lust for strength will be fulfilled. On the back, he found an address. Who had sent it to him? How had it just appeared on his night stand? What the hell was the deal, anyway? If he was smart, he’d have tossed it away like those fucking gym flyers he was always getting.
Looking up, he found himself facing the very same address. A set of dirty stairs lead down to a basement building in a seedy part of town known for its lovely smelting plants. What was going to happen down there? Was he about to be mugged? Would he have to join Fight Club?
Still, something compelled him to continue. The message may have been vague, but it touched a deep, unsettling nerve. Gathering his courage, he walked down the stairs and opened the door.

The twenty-something cubicle dweller wandered in near darkness until he found a pair of massive musclemen guarding a door.
“Hello, sir.” One of them muttered.
Mark fidgeted nervously.
“Um, I’m not sure I’m in the right place…”
“You’re exactly where you belong, sir. Your coat?”
Mark peered at them for a moment. He took off his coat and handed it to them. The man’s arm danced with an astonishing amount of muscular detail. They were huge, even bigger than the bodybuilders on TV.
“Geeze, you guys are ripped.”
The two men chuckled.
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. This way.”
The men opened the door for Mark. Throbbing techno shook the ground from deep inside.
“Enjoy your time, sir.”

The cavernous room was like a 21st century harem collided with the pulsing energy of a rave. Garish neon lights painted the endless space in blinding pinks and blues while the heartbeat surge of music fed it with a nervous energy. Everywhere were expensive curtains and elaborate pillars, chairs, tables and stages. It was the ultimate men’s club come to life.
As Mark wandered along, he found dozens of guys just like him all milling about. He caught a lot glares, however most of the eyes were fixed on a big, oil-up female bodybuilder flexing provocatively on a stripper pole.
“Whoa!” Mark blurted aloud. A couple of guys looked his way.
Mark made an immediate beeline for the girl. She had drawn quite a crowd and with good reason - dressed in sheer, one-piece lingerie, she was a vision of hot, sensual strength.
Mark had been a secret admirer of female muscle for most of his life, but had never actually seen a muscular girl in person. The closest he came was when a friend had briefly dated a chick with a well-toned body. He remembered the times they had met up – how he had to fight the urge to stare at the subtle vein that ran up her well defined biceps. She must have thought he was a creep.
For the most part, Mark’s obsession had been relegated to the internet. He cruised the web nightly searching for pics and videos of big, bulging babes. He even contributed his own morphs, but his stuff was extreme even by the wide standards of muscle art. It seemed the only outlet for a passion that raged without end, so he continued to toil, pushing the envelope and never worrying about the boundaries of good taste. His women were weird, Frankenstein assemblies of male arms and legs stitched to female heads, then exaggerated even further until they were truly monstrous creations. His lust for both size and definition seemed to know no limits and even his wildest creations had yet to be “too big”.
But here in front of him was the real deal! The Amazon in lingerie was easily the size of heavyweight professional and in incredible, contest shape. As she ground her hips to the pole, a set of painfully etched abdominals rippled beneath her tight flesh.
Mark was in love. She was cut and veiny just like he liked them. She even had a cute face – a rarity in the world of hardcore bodybuilding. As he watched her dance, she locked eyes with him and licked her lips. Mark felt his heart flutter as her raw sexuality hit him like a dump truck.
“Can I get you anything?” Came a cute voice from behind him.
Mark turned and almost choked. Another young hottie in a skimpy bunny outfit waited with a tray in her hands. The tiny young thing was so packed with muscles that she was practically exploding out of her costume.
A stunned Mark found himself speechless. She was even sexier than the dancer, with an adorably youthful face stretched tight from what must have been a grueling training regiment. While she wasn’t quite as thick as the first girl, she was even more cut, with even the smallest striations clearly visible through a sexy golden tan.
“Let me guess – your fist time here?” She giggled, sounding more like a teenager than a chiseled athlete.
Mark nodded.
“W-what is this place?”
The gorgeous waitress pursed her succulent lips.
“Lucky boy – this is where your dreams come true.”
Mark watched another Amazonian waitress wander past. This one was a massive, manly hunk of African-American meat well over 6 feet tall. She was poured into a skimpy, leopard pattern bathing suit that looked ridiculous on her butched-out frame.
The small waitress sized Mark up and bit her lip. She had a coy grin about her, like a school girl with a crush.
“You’re kind of cute. When you’re done with your slave, maybe you and I can have some fun together.”
Mark’s pulse quickened.
“Muh… my slave?”
The girl’s smile sagged.
“Oh poo. You don’t know yet, do you? Every guy in here has a number. It’s on your card. They’re just about to start bringing out the new girls, actually. I hear they’re the hottest bunch ever.”
Mark’s face was a mixture of emotions.
“I’m not sure I understand…”
The waitress giggled. She wrapped her arm around his and led him further into the crowd.
“I’ll show you. C’mon.”
As the tiny muscle girl guided Mark through the busy room, he could feel her hard, baseball-sized bicep pressing into his side. It felt like a rock, only hot and bumpy with surging vascularity. He was so taken by it, he almost missed a dozen more female bodybuilders in various states of undress.
“Fuck… me!”
“That’s one way to put it.” The cutie smiled.
Mark felt like he had died and gone to heaven. Every girl he saw was a supermodel-quality hard body built to fuck and suck like champs. Not one of them looked to be older than 20 yet they somehow sported monstrous physiques that must’ve taken years to develop.
“We’re here for your pleasure and nothing else. You can do whatever you want with us… or to us.”
Mark stopped in front of a jaw-dropping muscle babe arm wrestling two guys with one arm. The smoking hot slut was a straining mass of popping veins and huge, garish muscles as she tested her sweat-slicked, cannonball bicep against both guys at once.
Mark watched the girl grunt and groan, her pretty face twisted with concentration and popping veins. The amazing part was that she was not only holding her own, but winning.
“Not bad…” The waitress commented of the straining strength queen before raising her own arm. With a cute grunt, she produced an impossibly sharp and peaked bicep capped by a fat, throbbing vein.
She held the flex and looked at Mark.
“How do you think I would do?”
Before he could answer, Mark was distracted by a series of sharp cries. He turned to find an unbelievably muscular red head chained by her wrists to two marble columns. The girl was naked save a barbarian loincloth which left her huge, tensed chest naked for every man to see. Mark could hardly believe his eyes as he stared at two thick, meaty pecs with only an afterthought of breast tissue visible.
His trance was broken as a man swung a heavy wooden club straight into the girl’s stomach. She cried out and clenched the chains tight, sending a massive surge of ghoulishly defined abdominal muscle exploding through her skin.
Mark was absolutely floored. The other girls had been big, but this girl was almost the size of those macho meatheads he’d seen on the covers of bodybuilding magazines.
As a small group of guys took turns brutalizing her body, Mark could only watch in awe. With every bash, sweat flew from her soaked flesh. Amazingly, the beating only seemed to be feeding her muscle lust as every flex pumped more and more size into her already overstuffed skin. Mark even swore he saw cracks forming in the marble pillars on either side of her.
“Isn’t somebody going to help her?” He asked his cute hostess.
“I don’t think she wants help.”
Mark looked again to find the blonde moaning in ecstasy. Her face was flushed and her eyes glazed-over with wanton lust.
“So what do you think?” The waitress asked as she rested her palms on a nearby chair. “See anything you like…?”
Mark watched the small girl tense her chest. Her pectorals separated into two distinct plates as a crevice an inch wide formed like a fault line between them. Again he marveled at her staggering condition. He could see intense feathering in her well-carved shoulders that bled straight into her hyper-striated chest. The individual tendons in her pecs were so clearly separated that Mark could’ve strummed them like a harp.
All of that detail lead down into a mid-section that was just as intense. Mark knew how hard it was to build a good set of abs, and this girl had them in spades. As she relaxed and tensed her stomach, he could see a half-dozen distinct bulges straining against the material.
“Don’t be shy.” She spoke in her high, girly voice.
Reaching behind her back, she unzipped the leather top and peeled it off. Mark swallowed hard as it dropped to the floor, revealing a set of small, perky tits weirdly out of place on her mega-butch bod.
“I want to show you how hard I’ve worked my body…”
Tensing her arms, Mark watched her already carved physique become freakishly defined. The amount of pumped-up vascularity tripled across every surface until it almost choked-out the entire surface of her skin.
Glancing down, he followed a set of winding veins arrive at the bald lips of her fat, swollen crotch. Her cunt looked like a delicious, overripe peach swollen with lust.
Mark’s heart was pounding so hard that he almost didn’t feel the hand tapping his shoulder. He slowly turned to find one of the big bouncers standing behind him.
“I’m sorry sir. It’s time for your flesh sale.”
Mark looked back at the naked waitress, who had a disappointed frown on her face.
“I – I guess I have to go…” He stuttered.
He was lead away by the bouncer when the waitress called to him one last time.
He looked back just as she brought her arms up and cranked out a skin bursting double biceps flex. The small, sexy girl erupted with heaving mountains of muscle, transforming herself in an instant from a cut plaything into a sexless, androgynous muscle monstrosity.
“The name’s Mandi.”

Mark was deposited in front of stage with a crowd of excited muscle fans. The music slowed to a sexy, strip club beat and the lights dimmed. The big room took on an intimate setting as a mysterious older woman in a flowing red gown took the stage.
“We have 8 slaves for you tonight – each picked for their complete and total dedication to their physiques and guaranteed to bring fulfillment to their chosen master. Our first slave is a rare female member of the British SAS and an unequalled warrior. Welcome Lieutenant Cronenweth.”
The curtain drew back and a powerful blonde with short-cropped hair stepped out. The mid-sized girl was dressed in heavy camouflage fatigues that obscured her physique, but the detailed muscularity in her neck and face promised a hell of a body. What was immediately clear was her stunning, 11 out of ten looks. A large scar on her cheek did nothing to spoil a tight, chiseled face that could’ve given a dead man a boner. Fat, juicy lips swelled noticeably from her profile as if searching for a dick to suck while her deep blue eyes smoldered with more passion than any man could handle. An intense, humorless demeanor capped her animalistic sex-appeal.
The power of the girl’s lust could be felt from across the room. She looked like she could fuck a thousand men without breaking a sweat. One thing was for sure - whoever got her was going to have their hands full.
“Number 88…” The red-gowned hostess called.
Mark fumbled for his card, but a voice called out before he could find it.
“What is this shit? I wanted a big-titted bimbo!” The man complained.
The older woman seemed unfazed by his disappointment.
“Young lady?” She asked the military babe.
Cronenweth grabbed the front of her uniform and ripped it open. Buttons flew everywhere as her outrageous upper body was stripped bare. Every eye in the room shot out of their sockets at the sight of the girl’s supremely muscular body and jaw-dropping, brain-melting chest-pumpkins.
Tossing the uniform on the floor, the topless hunk of tit sex gave the crowd a moment to soak up her fat, succulent double Ds. She was big all over – easily bigger than any female bodybuilder in the world – yet still shaped like a woman. Her outrageously ripped muscularity was so cut and defined that it was almost sickening. That complete lack of fat made her proud, soccer ball breasts even more strange and sexy.
Mark watched the girl drop down into the audience, her tits nearly hitting her face. Finding her master, she grabbed his neck and forcefully pressed her giant cock suckers into his. He was almost crushed by the force and power of her sloppy, savage kiss. When they finally broke, she wiped the gooey strands of spit from her face and looked at him with a hunger that was savagely erotic.
When Mark looked back to the stage, the hostess was already introducing the next girl.
“The next slave is a mysterious loner with a tragic past. She is driven by equal parts lust and revenge to become an unmatched temple of strength. Welcome… Mercy.”
A roar at the back of the room shook the audience. Mark turned to see the crowd separating and a girl on a gleaming Harley ride up to the stage.
This new slave couldn’t have been more different than the first. Dressed in a leather jacket and riding pants, the dark-haired hot body was both shorter and younger than the British army babe. She had the softness of a girl still in her teens but the hardness born of a lifetime of pain and obsession.
As she climbed off her bike, Mark noticed the shocks compress to their limit. He knew it took 300-400 pounds to do that, though from his angle it seemed impossible that she sported that kind of weight.
Mark found himself mesmerized by her beauty. Her features were deep and mysterious and she oozed a damaged sexuality that was intensely arousing. He honestly wasn’t sure which of the two women was a bigger erection factory.
“Number 89.” The red-gowned woman called.
A big man at the back of the crowd moved up. He arrived in front of his prize only to tower over her.
“Are you serious?” He asked. “I’ll fuckin’ break her.”
Mercy grinned. Locking eyes with the man, she unzipped her jacket and revealed her shirtless torso. Gasps erupted throughout the room at the sight of a staggeringly massive and masculine body.
Mark’s heart started pounding like a jack hammer. He’d been floored by the female bodybuilders he’d seen so far, but Mercy was something else entirely.
Slowly, the sexy muscle-freak leaned over her motorcycle and took hold of the wheels. Mark watched her amused expression quickly darken into a mask of determination, machine-like concentration.
Gritting her teeth, Mercy grunted loudly and hoisted the heavy bike off the ground. The audience could hear her leather clothes groan as her body violently swelled in every direction.
Veins popped through the girl’s forehead and strangled her neck. With a second furious grunt, she hoisted the bike past her knees and up to waist level.
Monolithic traps surged outward with such force and size that they ripped a 5 inch gash in the back of her coat. Her beer-keg thighs, now straightened out and supporting the full weight of the Harley, split her pants open in a similar fashion.
The audience was dead silent as they watched the Lolita tough-ass wrestle with the weight. They could see the pain evident in her shaking arms and strained, red-faced expression. But there wasn’t a hint of fear or doubt in Mercy’s face – only hunger. Mike could see her eyes transfixed at some distant target as if it were mocking her. The burning she must have felt in her muscles only seemed to fuel her.
Spitting out a frightening growl, Mercy powered the bike over her head. The arms of her jacket exploded under an onslaught of all-American grade-A girl beef. Vein-covered, hyper-shredded cannons willed themselves into existence and revealed a flexing girth that was far bigger than any bodybuilder in the world – male or female.
With a scary mixture of agony and rage, Mercy began to pump the huge motorcycle up and down by a foot and a half. With every crunch, Mercy’s hulked-out giga-mass swelled bigger – her definition became sharper – her veins pulsed harder and fatter.
Then all at once, she dropped the bike back to the Earth. The room shook as it hit the ground. Mercy stood behind the huge hunk of steel panting from the effort and dripping sweat down her vein-covered face.
Mark was in total and complete shock. As he gazed at Mercy through the chattering heads around him, he came to a realization. Somehow, this school-aged badass was his deepest, darkest fantasy come to life. She was one of his muscle morphs come to life. Forget tits or hips or anything else girly and feminine. This chick had willingly shredded it all and then some. She was disgustingly masculine. Ripped. Hard. Cut. She was a beast. A monster. She was a scary hulk of a human being stitched to a sex-up high school hottie.
Snapping out of his daze, Mark caught the slab-like back of the girl wandering away with her master.
“No!” He shouted.
One of the nameless guys around him looked his way.
“S-she’s perfect! Why don’t I get her?”
The guy gave an amused laugh.
“If you didn’t get her, that means she ain’t perfect. Trust me pal, they know what you want better than you do.”
Mark chewed on those words. He pulled out his card and looked it over. He didn’t have a number.

Before he could voice his concern, the red-gowned woman was back.