Author Topic: [EN / Worshipper] The Abduction (4 chapters)  (Read 3363 times)

Offline Femuita

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[EN / Worshipper] The Abduction (4 chapters)
« on: 14 February 2012, 13:22:15 »
The Abduction - Chapter 1

I had prepared my men carefully for weeks. One had gotten a job as a bartender at the club she often went to late at night; one as a waiter, one as the bouncer. The plan was to slip a very powerful “mickey” into her drink, then when she lost consciousness, to bring her out to the specially prepared van. Although the drug would render further restraints utterly unnecessary, the back of the van was set up with restraining devices. My men were under strict orders not to hurt her in any way, and they knew that the back of the van had a video camera that I was monitoring from home. Why all these precautions and all these restraints? Because the woman they were abducting was probably the strongest person in the world.

Rena was a champion bodybuilder. Her muscles, especially her biceps and quadriceps were enormous and spectacularly defined. She augmented her professional body building income by wrestling men. She had become well-known in that community for her apparent pleasure in inflicting pain; she had become famous by making a specialty of wrestling two men at a time. She charged the same price for two as for one (she said it made the match more fair) and she had never lost. Regardless of the size and cumulative strength of her two male opponents, she always emerged the victor. Usually they begged for mercy as she held them, one in a headlock with her huge bicep crushing the side of his face; the other between her amazing legs. Sometimes she let them go before they blacked out.

Like many men (hardly a majority, but a surprisingly large minority), I worship female muscle. Although I’m easily enough turned on by women who are conventionally attractive, the quickest and most powerful turn on for me always has been a womanly display of strength or flexed muscle. I am extremely rich, so I have been able to indulge my tastes by frequent sessions of wrestling and muscle worship with most of the female bodybuilders/wrestlers in the business and I have enjoyed every minute of it, especially the many hours spent stroking their flexed arms. But I also spend a lot of time working out myself, and have never been seriously challenged (well, almost never) in wrestling. I always let the woman win because that’s what turns me on, but I have craved a woman whose strength could control me utterly. Rena was fairly new to the m/f wrestling scene, but the stories I had heard led me to believe that she would be capable of this. Yet those stories also had left me afraid. Two of the men she had beaten (at the same time) were guys I knew who were accomplished wrestlers and bodybuilders themselves. Both had ended up in the hospital.

That’s why I had had her kidnapped. She had become completely irresistible to me, but I was terrified of her. Still, what good was all my money if it couldn’t buy what I most wanted? Watching her (by video) in the back of the van was almost impossibly exciting. The guys had done almost exactly as I had asked, chaining her outstretched arms and legs to the restraints anchored to the walls. But for some reason they hadn’t removed her long-sleeved leather jacket, so I couldn’t see those incredible arms bare. I comforted myself knowing that soon I would.

Twenty minutes into the trip I was shocked to see her eyes start to open. The pill I had had prepared was supposed to be powerful enough for a horse. Clearly Rena was groggy, but I couldn’t take any chances on her regaining consciousness (and strength!). I called the guys and told them to pull over and administer the hypodermic we had prepared. One of them managed to break the first needle by attempting to insert it into Rena’s impossibly hard thigh. She began to stir. Thank god for forethought: I had given them a whole box of needles and eventually they were able to force one into her unflexed glute. She lost consciousness quickly and it was in that state that she arrived at my mansion. The guys brought her in on a stretcher and immediately took her to my wrestling room, where I had had super-hardened cuff restraints installed for her arms and legs. Taking off her leather jacket and jeans was difficult because of her weight and size. She is almost 6 feet tall and weighs well over 200 pounds, with not an ounce of fat. But eventually, working fast and fearfully, we maneuvered her into the restraints.

There she was, just as I had imagined: naked except for panties and bra she was splayed out against my cement block wall. Her musculature was even more astounding in person: although not particularly vascular, she was unbelievably defined. And the size--of everything!--was unreal. How can I describe calf muscles so prominent? Quadriceps almost cartoonishly huge, but also striated? Abs that one could get lost in? But of course, my attention quickly became riveted to her arms, not to her swelling forearms, but to biceps that even unflexed appeared hard, defined, and far bigger than any I had seen in years of working out at gyms. Unflexed, they were like bowling balls.

I told the guys to leave. Then I approached her slowly with my heart beating like a bass drum. Very slowly I brought my hand up to her left bicep.

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[EN / Worshipper] The Abduction - Chapter 2
« Reply #1 on: 14 February 2012, 13:22:54 »
The Abduction - Chapter 2

I told the guys to leave. Then I approached her slowly with my heart beating like a bass drum. Very slowly I brought my hand up to her left bicep. With the tips of my fingers I traced a line from her wrist to the inside of her elbow and paused. The bicep was mountainous. I began to traverse it. Unflexed, there was no peak, of course, but that huge mound rose upwards nonetheless. At the top I paused and let the rest of my hand cup her magnificent muscle. Almost overcome with heightened lust I got closer and began to whisper gentle kisses into her bulging flesh, roaming my lips across what seemed a vast expanse. After a while I started to kiss more passionately and to lick and suck, then to press my mouth against her rock-hard bicep. I began to groan softly.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying yourself.”

I flung myself back and fell to the floor. Rena was eyeing me and grinning sarcastically, if a bit lopsidedly.

“What the hell did you give me to put me to sleep? It must have been damn strong.”

I haven’t described what Rena looks like except for her magnificent muscles--probably because I am so obsessed by them, even now. No, especially now. But one of the really striking things is her beauty: shoulder-length auburn hair, penetratingly blue eyes, and, surprising for one whose body fat must otherwise measure in the low single digits, well-proportioned breasts. (They happen to be real; my researchers had provided me with photos of her development since her early teens.)

Now she was conscious, albeit far from completely alert. As I awkwardly struggled to get up I found myself unable to wrest my gaze from her stare, but eventually my eyes strayed to other areas of her reviving physique. She was beginning to strain against the wrist cuffs, producing shocks of pleasure in me as I watched her biceps expand (expand!) beyond their unflexed size. With each motion the peak formed, hardened, and seemed to leap upwards. Then it subsided. And I was very aware that she was as yet far from full strength. Moreover, with her arms mostly outstretched, a true flex was impossible.

“My god you’re incredible.” The words escaped my lips unbidden. “I... I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Good grief, it’s not as if I had any choice.” She yawned and massively stretched both arms and legs, pushing against the cuffs. Her quads surged outwards as though pumped from within and the striations deepened, creating a dramatic play of light and shadow on her thighs.

“I’m very sorry Rena, Ms. Danvers, but I really had no choice. I hope you’re not too uncomfortable. I have wanted to meet you for a long time, but everyone knows that you refuse to do muscle worship sessions, that you only wrestle. I have no interest in wrestling.”

“Look at me.” Her voice was stern and impossible to ignore. She was intent for a few moments and then laughed. “You’re a liar,” she said. “You’re just too afraid to wrestle me. And you're all pumped up like a male bodybuilder. I crush guys like you before breakfast.”

Her words were scornful but accompanied by an ironic grin. “Well, you’d better get your touching--your “worshiping”--in now before I wake up and rip these things out of the wall.” I hesitated. “Seriously, do it now. I swear I won’t hurt you. Yet. I may even get a kick out of seeing you humiliate yourself.”

“Then why don’t you do muscle worship sessions?”

“Because I hate the idea of taking money without working for it.”

I tried to ignore my fear as I approached her.

“Start from the bottom.”

I can’t imagine why I obeyed her, but I didn’t question it for a second, even though my palms ached to cup her biceps, now a good inch or more larger after the partial flexing and stretching allowed by the cuffs.

“Massage me with oil from the legs up.”

My heart skipped a beat. Oiling her was a fantasy come true--I had placed a bottle of oil on a table she couldn’t have seen--and I realized that the suspense of working my way towards those huge arms would be a treat.

“Aren’t you the eager beaver.” I must have walked back to the table faster than I thought. I grabbed the oil and came towards her. “You’d better slow down Bud. I like my massages thorough.”

I began, as she had asked, with her lower legs. Her calf muscles weren’t really as large as most men’s thighs, but they seemed enormous in my hands and the hardness was amazing. Her right calf muscle jutted out a good inch past my hands as they encircled her leg just below. Sliding them up and over meant turning two very sharp angles. In the middle I felt a deep, ridged triangle of steel.

As I pressed my fingers against the unyielding muscle my own hardness was becoming uncomfortable; I’d been unbearably aroused for hours now. My god... I realized that several hours actually had passed since we last had drugged her. She must be almost wide awake. I looked up, past her voluptuously muscled abdominal area, over her breasts, and saw her looking down, amused. I knew it was impossible for anyone to break out of these restraints. And yet...

As I began to massage her thigh my nervousness increased. Somehow she knew.

“What’s up doc? Getting scared? Think I can tear this thing out?”

As she spoke, the thigh I was holding hardened and grew unbelievably. I looked down at the cuff anxiously but was relieved to see that it didn’t budge.

“Why did you call me doc?” I asked, ignoring the awful content of her other questions and trying to sound brave. “My name is Smyth, Fred Smyth.”

“Thanks for the intro Freddy, but we both know it’s bullshit. Smith, Smyth, I’ll find out your name eventually.” She paused. “What do you think of my thighs? There you are, almost between them. Why not put your head where I can do some damage?”

On my knees, I was positioned with my eyes just about level with her panties. They were black, as was her bra. A bit of fluffy reddish brown hair curled out the side. I lowered my gaze to the spot on the wall between her upper legs. My head could fit, and, afterall, her legs were securely fastened, but each of her flexes was so huge, so powerful: would the space between her legs be enough?

“You’re probably right.”

What the hell? I hadn’t said anything! What was I right about?

“This would hurt.” With that, the distance between her thighs narrowed fast as the muscle fibers trembled and thickened at an unimaginable rate. If my head had been there--if a brick had been there!--it would have been crushed.

Rena’s laughter woke me from my frightened reverie and I hurriedly stood. She was so beautiful, and now I was face to face with her. We were roughly the same height and her eyes were locked on mine even as her wide smile crinkled their corners. “Aren’t you going to massage my abs?”

I got back to work, gulping in air as she flexed her stomach muscles. “Think you could hurt me here?” she whispered and giggled.

“Rena, please don’t make me do that. I really *do* know how to box and if I punched you you would be hurt.” Saying this, I felt confident for the first time that day. I had hired professionals to teach me to box and even they were impressed by the strength of my blows. I’d been boxing for ten years.

“Do it Freddie.”

We argued back and forth for several minutes, but in the end I took a towel, wiped the oil from her stomach and from my hands.

I stood before her. “Ready?”

“Do it.”

I punched at about half strength.

“Is that all?”

“Please Rena, don’t make me...”

“Do it” she interrupted.

I punched harder. My hand felt like I was punching the wall next to her. She just grinned.

“C’mon Freddy, give it your best shot. This time maybe I’ll even flex.”

Oh god. She was right. I realized that I’d been punching her unflexed abs. Now on her stomach appeared countless ridges--bands of iron. I became truly afraid.

“Punch me Freddy, full strength, now.”

I reached back and let loose with all of the force others had found so hellish. It was as though I was in slow motion: I saw my hand zeroing in on her ridged abs, and saw my fist make contact, then time sped up as I felt an explosion of pain that began in my fist and shot through my arm.

I must have screamed. “Shush Freddy, you’ll wake the neighbors.” She didn’t know that she was in the basement of a mansion miles from any other homes. But that’s not what I was thinking as tears sprang to my eyes. “No, it isn’t broken,” I thought as I flexed my fingers and looked up at this goddess of muscle.

“Good thing it’s not broken Fred. You haven’t felt my biceps yet, at least not since I’ve been awake to flex for you. C’mon.”

I got up from where I had fallen and again stood before her. As she began to pull against the cuffs, the mound of muscle of each arm shot upwards and peaks began to form. But she stopped and the peaks disappeared.

“You know Freddy,” good grief, she sounded almost coquettish, “I don’t think any massage is complete if it ignores my breasts, do you?”

I must have looked stunned.

“You can do it Freddy. Take off my bra.”

It was fastened in back and, restraints or no, I wasn’t going to get that close. At the back of the room was one of my desks; inside were scissors.

“Oooh, aren’t you imaginative!” she said as I approached with them.

My hand trembled slightly as I inserted one blade behind the material and cut through. The two halves lay covering her breasts, each bit of fabric held back by a prominent nipple.

“You can do it Freddy.”

I gently pulled the black fabric away. She arched her back and the bra fell to the floor. Very rounded breasts stood out and her nipples rose to greet me.

“Suck them Freddy.”

Heedless of the danger of closeness, I couldn’t stop myself from moving my head to her chest and doing as she asked.
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[EN / Worshipper] The Abduction - Chapter 3
« Reply #2 on: 14 February 2012, 13:23:25 »
The Abduction - Chapter 3

Surrounded by an array of pectoral muscles that kept them easily aloft, Rena’s breasts were large and well formed. Her nipple was stiff gainst my lips and then my tongue. A slightly animal, fresh smell rose from her and I thought I heard her breath slightly quicken. I moved my left hand to her other breast, fondling the nipple gently, then more vigorously, then gently again. My right hand moved up to her left arm and my fingers sought the rounded top of her bicep. As I touched it , her arms began to tense against the restraint and the feeling of a rising peak filled my entire hand. The solidity, the rock-like hardness inspired awe, terror, and an uncontrollable lust. I couldn’t stop myself from raising my left hand to the other impossibly huge muscle. I began to caress it and found myself leaning into her massive thigh, which, to my shock, she began to flex against my engorged member. Seconds later, I came: wave after wave of release coursed through my entire body, leaving me utterly spent.

Moments later, mortified by my lack of control, I backed away from her weakly, with downcast eyes. “Ms. Danvers, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t control...”

“Cool it Freddy, just don’t stop there. You need to get back to work.”

Raising my eyes I saw an entirely different look in hers. There was a feverishness there now, and the movement of her chest and abs made it plain that her own breathing had become a good deal faster.

“Get back here. Now.”

“What... what do you want?”

“I liked what you were doing with my breasts. Start there.”

Eagerly, if a bit gingerly, I returned to Rena’s sweet-smelling chest, listening closely to her breathing, and alternating my hand and mouth on either breast.

She began to gasp, “Freddy... move your hand down.”

I caressed the bands of muscle over her stomach.

“Down Freddy, down.”

Nervously I started to slip my fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, waiting for her to object. Instead, she said, “Do it, do it...”

She was very moist. My middle finger began a gentle exploration that became more intense as she pushed against it. Her gasps turned into little moans that grew and began to fill the room. With my face buried in one breast and one hand between her legs, her entire body seemed to tense and strain. She came with an ear-splitting “Yes!” Seconds later I looked up just in time to see one of the cast-iron restraints begin to loosen from its cement moorings. “Yes!” echoed again as her hand started to move from the wall. "Yes! Yes!" In utter panic I wrenched myself from her and fell at her feet. Jumping up and away I saw that one foot cuff already had been torn from the wall and the other was on the point of the same. "Yes!" I ran out the door and began to slam it just as I heard her rip the final hand restraint from its anchor. “I’m coming Freddy!”

Somehow I shot the huge deadbolt before she reached the 4-inch thick steel door. Her first blow shook it and made a slight bulge in my side of the door. A second bulge followed quickly and was larger.

By some miracle of planning I had installed a panic button in the hall. I had imagined using it if Rena gained consciousness before I wanted her to. Now I pushed it and her room was instantly flooded by clouds of fast-acting chloroform.

Rena’s third blow to the door was like the second and I began to fear for the hinges, but her next attempt was weaker, and there wasn’t another.

The chloroform had been measured to put her to sleep for two hours, but I pushed the button for a second dose. Later, reviewing the video tape, I saw that she had actually stayed conscious several additional minutes. The woman was incredible.

It was about 4 a.m. I showered and changed. Then I roused my men, one of whom had installed the hand restraints. His face when I informed him of Rena’s escape was a mask of disbelief and fear. I ordered them to keep Rena unconscious as long as necessary and to install a new series of cuffs, with anchors based twice as deep. This time the wrist cuffs would be nearer her head, so that her bicep could flex to its full, unimaginable peak. We wouldn’t move her to them until the cement was completely dry. Eventually we would feed her, but a day or so without food wouldn’t do much harm. Then we’d keep her semi-conscious and feed her for a few days before bringing her to town.

Why did I prolong this? Had I learned nothing from the stupendous events of that night? Yes, I had learned that Rena’s strength was beyond comprehension and that keeping her at my home any longer was quite insane. But I had become completely obsessed by the memory of the feel of those mighty arms and the sight of her bursting from from bondage. Over the next day or so, as I waited for the cement to dry, I reviewed the video of our encounter at least a dozen times. I had had several cameras installed and some provided clear, close views of various muscle groups. Each new viewing brought an immediate return of my arousal, yet repeated orgasms brought no relief of my obsession: I needed to cup those fully-engorged muscles, to know the full measure of her impossible huge, peaked arms. I was, of course, doomed.
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[EN / Worshipper] The Abduction - Chapter 4
« Reply #3 on: 14 February 2012, 13:24:15 »
The Abduction - Chapter 4

If Rena had not been the astounding specimen of female power that she was, I might have worried at the huge amount of chloroform and other drugs we needed to give her to keep her unconscious. Shackled in thick chains she lay on a comfortable bed at one end of her basement room, while two of my men repaired the wall and built the new restraints. The third man was assigned to monitor her sleep closely and to insure that she remained unconscious. I visited occasionally and entertained fantasies of an elaborate rigging of her unconscious form to the bed itself but I knew that no mere chains and iron bed frame could resist her strength once I let her awaken.

For the first few hours my men seemed somewhat nervous, but they soon regained their confidence. All three were enormous bodybuilders, fighters, and strength athletes. That they had healthy respect for Rena speaks volumes for her reputation, a reputation that the twisted metal--the remains of her cuffs--that had greeted their arrival in the basement room did nothing but burnish. Her bulging arm muscles, visible even in sleep, didn't hurt.

Eventually the cement was completely dry and the men hoisted Rena back into position against the wall. I watched by video close-up as they moved her arms to put her wrists into the new double cuffs. Bending her arms at the elbow made it seem for a moment that she had come back to life, as her biceps jumped to a rock-like peak. Yet still she slept: that peak was not even flexed.

I had purchased a new brassiere for Rena and them men put it on her. Knowing that I was watching they refrained from any untoward actions. An hour later I returned to the room. The dented metal door had been replaced with one six inches thick, reinforced throughout in cast iron. It weighed nearly a ton and required huge, iron hinges. I could barely open it.

I brought a tray with food--steak, risotto, and salad--and a bottle of mineral water with a straw. There was now a table and chair a few feet in front of Rena. I sat and waited for her to awaken.

“You bring me classy food without wine?”

I was startled to hear her voice after only about five minutes. She was supposed to be out at least another 30.

“Ms. Danvers, wine and chloroform do not mix. I’m only trying...”

She laughed. “Poor Freddy, you don’t know whether to take care of me or to chain me up and fuck your brains out.”

My god, she seemed to know the fantasies I had enjoyed even when she was unconscious.

“Get me some... some Nebbiolo. That will make me like you a tiny bit better.”

Did she know the contents of my wine cellar too? I hurried out and returned with a favorite bottle and a glass.

“Mum, that will be good.”

I’ll omit further details, but suffice it to say that the wine seemed to have no effect on her besides bringing an even healthier glow to her skin. Over the next couple of days, scenes like this were repeated. Rena expressed no anger, no yearning to escape; rather, an ironic good humor. Usually I fed her, sometimes my men did. They refused to enter her room alone, so all three waited on her together. Somehow, it was impossible not to feel as though she were in charge.

I’m not proud of this, but I must force myself to be candid. An hour or two after each feeding I pressed the chloroform button. Then I hurried to her room (after operating the exhaust system, of course) and, in the act of fondling her magnificent physique gained exquisite release of my pent-up sexual tension. Sometimes I came while massaging an unbelievably prominent calf muscle; sometimes in the act of licking a striated thigh; but the usual locus of my desire was her arms. Even unflexed, the balls of muscle that were the peaked mounds of her biceps were so hard that my fingers could not make the slightest dent. I felt them, kissed them, sucked them and came again and again.

Gradually I was building up the courage to worship her body when she was somewhat awake. The summit of my fantasy was to stroke her biceps when they were fully flexed, so I needed her to be conscious. After achieving this ecstatic pinnacle of my obsession I would release her. My plan was to have my men return her to town (unconscious, of course) and for all four of us to fly Europe (I live in California) for an extended holiday, far from where she might track us down.

I could hardly bear the anticipation of this event. I watched and listened as my men fed her a last time.

“You know what,” she asked near the end of the meal, “I could use some exercise.”

“What do you mean miss?” asked Jack, one of my men.

“I need for you guys to help me get my abs back into shape. How about a few rounds of sparring. Hit me as hard as you like.”

Rena’s abs, which she now flexed and relaxed several times, were as awesomely muscled as the day we had brought her home. The guys looked at each other, then tried to talk Rena out of this “exercise,” much as I had earlier that week.

She laughed at their concerns. “C’mon wimps. You afraid you’ll hurt your poor little hands?”

My men are loyal to me, but Rena’s taunts got them. Soon they were banging away at her midsection, harder and harder. Jack, a pro boxer, was really getting into it and, frustrated, started to pound Rena full strength. What happened next was beyond belief. Rena showed no signs of discomfort and Jack, standing very close to her, was concentrating intensely--we all were, including me in my room. I guess I must have noticed it first, over the video camera: Rena’s left quadriceps started to flex more powerfully than I had ever seen it; as I watched, the massive cuff around her left ankle started to shake, then, it seemed to explode from the wall.

Jack tried to get away, but succeeded only in turning awkwardly and falling to his knees, so that when Rena’s leg scissored out and back she caught him neatly around the neck. For a moment all was silent.

Jack’s face turned red, then purple. Then Rena spoke. “Here’s the deal. If you grab the set of keys from the desk drawer and release me, not only won’t I kill your friend here, but I won’t kill either of you. This is your only chance: I will get out of here eventually and when I do, I will come for you and crush you utterly; if you let me go, I’ll have to hurt you a little now so you don’t interfere with my plans, but you’ll survive.” She looked down. “Decide fast: I think your buddy has about 30 seconds left, unless I squeeze harder.”

Friends, what can I say to you? Anyone not in thrall to Rena’s muscles would have run down and pushed the chloroform button. But perhaps you can understand. I was riveted to the screen. This gorgeous woman, whose two arms and one leg were held fast to the wall, was destroying a huge man proud of his strength--with but one leg! Facing them were two other enormous men who were in awe and fear. If they did as she asked I soon would be able to observe Rena in combat with them. As I watched she shifted her leg slightly and moved so that Jack’s head now was between her thighs: he was completely engulfed by muscle that seemed to swallow his head. Clearly, he soon would expire.

My men consulted and ran back for the key. Rena dropped Jack in a heap, moved a toe under his body and lifted his entire weight straight up with one leg, "handing" him to Mike, an enormous college wrestling coach, who struggled to carry him to the side. Jack was, of course, completely unconscious. My other man, Charlie, at nearly 400 pounds, released the cuffs.

Rena stood massaging her wrists and shaking out her arms, then her legs. My men remained immobile, paralyzed with fear.

“One at a time or both at once? You guys have some chance if you work together.”

Mike and Charlie charged her together. Rena, quite literally, welcomed them with open arms, but their combined size thwarted her attempt at a bear hug, and for a few moments she seemed, well, almost stymied. Then she reached down and before they (or I) knew what she’d done, she had grabbed each by his belt and jerked them off their feet. They dangled like kittens in her hands! She straightened her arms (with well over 300 pounds in each!) so that they couldn’t reach her as they struggled.

“Freddy!” She was looking straight at the main camera. Obviously she knew I could see everything and hear every word. “I hope you pay these poor boys well, because they won’t enjoy this!”

Mike and Charlie kept struggling furiously, but to pitifully little avail. With no obvious effort Rena maneuvered Charlie’s head between her thighs as she stood. Mike’s head was directed under one massive arm.

“Oh Freddy...” she intoned mockingly. “How bad should I hurt them?” She looked straight at the main camera. Standing motionless with two huge men held helpless, one between her legs, one in a brutal headlock, she smiled. I could see Rena’s thighs bulge out around Charlie’s head. In a moment, he fell silently to the floor.

“This is too easy Freddy, it’s you I want to wrestle.” While she still looked at the camera, the arm locked around Mike’s head gave a slight shiver. I could see the ball of her bicep plunge into the side of his face and hear the snap as his jaw shattered. He too fell to the floor, out cold.

“Gee, now there’s that big new door. Hope you locked it Freddy.”

I had locked the door as I always did during feedings. I could unlock it electronically from my room to let the men back out. If any door could withstand her battering fists, this one could. And I guess that that was why my panic had not forced me to push the chloroform button or jump in my car to escape.

How could I have been so crazy? What door could withstand Rena? Five, six, seven blows. On the eighth two hinges came loose. She raised one leg and pushed. The door popped open and crashed to the floor with a heavy thud I could feel four flights up.

Rena strolled back and smiled into the camera. Slowly, very slowly, she raise her two arms and held them out straight to the side. With agonizing, thrilling deliberation, she curled them into the classic double bicep pose. For the first time all week her biceps were flexed to their full, impossibly full extent. The peaks rose and split and seemed to continue to rise as she stood with a big smile, looking directly at me. "Ohh, feels good Freddy. These are for you! You'll feel them now, I promise! Ready or not, here we come!”

(To Be Continued?)
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