Transformation World: Amazons

More in the transformation storyline. This time, a mousey nerd girl finds a Halloween costume that turns her into a 7 foot amazon warrior.

"So what do you think for the Halloween party? I was looking at 'sexy Frankenstein' this year."

"The monster or the doctor?"

"I don't know. Whichever was the green one with the stitched up boobs."

Jennifer and Laurie looked over the rack of costumes. It was getting near that time of year, and there was a public advisory for people to stay in the spirit and dress up this year. With the number of unexplained transformations and cursed individuals jumping up every few months, people were starting to wise up. Respecting the holidays was high on those trendy online lists of how to avoid being "morphed," because there were a number of vengeful spirits and mythical figures who would come down to teach you the true meaning of Christmas the hard way.

"I don't know," Jen answered. She pulled out the one marked "sexy jedi" and frowned at it. She was a small and mousey girl with glasses, and it was clearly built for a taller girl with more tits than she had. "Maybe something that doesn't have 'sexy' in the title. It's pretty offensive to choose a costume just to be objectified."

"Oh my gosh, Jenny. You need to turn off for once," Laurie groaned. She was tall, blonde and pretty, so of course she had no issues with that kind of thing. Jen felt like she had a lot more to be self-conscious about. "It's one night where everyone looks doofy. Who gives a shit? Ooh, 'sexy crayon' is on sale!"

"I just don't want to put on a bikini and say it's my costume," Jen objected more mildly. "And they don't really make a lot in my size..."

"Here! Perfect!" Laurie reached into the rack and pulled out a rather simple pair of cheetah print faux-furs. They resembled something a woman in a caveman movie or a Tarzan cover would be wearing. "Primal Amazon.' See? It doesn't even say 'sexy' on it anywhere."

Jen frowned at it as she took it from Laurie. It bare the midriff a little, but it was larger than she would have expected. It would still fit, but it also covered more than a lot of the other costumes would. "Well... it does look kind of Shanna the She-Devil..."

"Is she from Tarzan?" Laurie asked with a tilt of her head.

"No, Marvel comics. Doesn't matter. I'll try it on and we'll see."

"There you go!" Laurie encouraged her as Jen went into the fitting room. They were an odd pair of friends. Laurie met Jen early in college asking for help with her homework. Jen was ready to be bullied or bribed into writing papers for her, just to find that Laurie was genuinely interested in learning and doing it for herself. Laurie was a bit of a ditz, but entirely harmless and sweet in her socially pampered kind of way.

Jen got to the changing room and stripped down to her bra and panties. When she slid on the loincloth and fur bikini, it was actually quite comfortable. It covered a lot more skin than she thought, clearly a couple sizes up from her women's small. There was a plastic clasp that painted to look gold in the front, which Jen shuffled around until it fit her waist and then snapped into place. That was apparently the trigger to whatever magic worked the amazonian loincloth.

The first thing to kick in was Jen shot up in height. Her 5-foot nothing launched a foot straight into the air, stretching her legs and midsection taller and thicker. Her arms and legs tensed up, feeling like they were being forced to flex before Jen realized they were actually growing. Her shoulder broadened and her light brown hair shifted to a stark white as it grew longer and spilled over her face. The once loose clothing tightened around her as everything about her pushed out and up, adding a muscular but huge pair of breasts to go with her bulging biceps and thick hips.

"Jeeen? You okay in th-HOLY SHIT!" Laurie came to peek past the curtain, jumping back around the time Jen stretched the last few inches to reach seven feet tall. She grunted and panted like she was struggling with a lot of pain, but it felt... thrilling. It was so intense as everything about her grew and filled with strength she'd never imagined. She looked down at one of her broad, rough hands, tanned to a dark olive color like she had spent her entire life in the jungle. She looked up at Laurie, who nearly fell over under the gaze of the newly grown amazon.

"Are you safe?" she asked, hunching down to fit under the curtain rod and stepping out with her long, silvery hair rolling over her strong, bronzed shoulders.

"J-Jen?"

"Yes," she said simply, her voice thick and rough with her new vocal chords at work. She frowned and rubbed her throat as the primitive tone rumbled through her.

"Okay, cool. Could you do me a favor and stop looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"You look like you're going to eat me right now." Jen looked over at a mirror, seeing her piercing green eyes showing an intensely hawk-like glare. Her eyes softened as soon as she noticed, blinking as she became more self aware of just how she looked. Her new oversized figure left a lot less covered by the costume. At least it was tanned abs and bulging boobs rather than a flat and scrawny geek girl.

"Sorry. Sorry," she said, mousey despite her deep tone. "I just put it on and it... did this."

"So take it off?" Laurie offered. Jen ducked back inside and undid the buckle to remove the loincloth.

"It's... not turning off."

"Well... I guess you've got a hell of a Halloween costume, Jenny. Not bad for twenty bucks, right?"

"Wait, that one was magic?" the clerk behind them objected. "That's not for twenty!"

"She may be a giant magic amazon, but the price sticker still says twenty. Deal with it, buddy!"

Jen left the store with Laurie to her general embarrassment, even if people on the street looked at her with the same interest as they would someone with a cute dog or a man in makeup. A glance, then ignored. Transformation was just a way of life now. Jen's great-aunt had even been turned into a bear. It just happened, for whatever reason.

Laurie had ended up settling on Sexy Non-Licensed Mermaid Princess. Partly because she liked the seashell bra, and finalized it when she saw someone else try it on and not get turned into a mermaid or a princess. "Wouldn't that have been cool, though? Turning into a princess, I mean. I bet you'd be able to just tell people what to do."

"Not as fun as it sounds," Jen grumbled as she found herself returning to her hawk-like glare.

"Oh, come on. You can open pickle jars and reach the top shelf! It can't be that bad," Laurie assured her, but Jen still seemed annoyed, at least when the predatory stare wore off. Laurie treated her to some dinner at the buffet they liked to cheer her up, which oddly did the trick. Jen walked up to the food like she owned it and people instinctively got out of her (gigantic) way. Jen came back to the table with a pile of meats that she started to noisily eat with her hands, letting some of the juices stain her long and silvery hair like blood. It was as if she was daring anyone to try to take her food while eating it as fast as possible.

"Uh... feel better?" Laurie asked as she picked at her salad.

Jen looked up and flashed her a wolfish grin. "Much better. Thanks." She grabbed a fistful of napkins to wipe off her face and hands, her expression becoming more tame as she gave a more modest smirk and rested her hand on Laurie's. "Seriously. You're a good friend."

"Well duh," Laurie laughed. She was never much of a modest type. "But you too. Now you can just be an even bigger friend. Although..." She took another bite of her salad. "It looks the occasional splurge on meat does you a lot of good."

Campus life was, surprisingly, slightly easier for Jen after the changes. Being the tallest woman at the college (only shorter than a few of the transformed boys) made getting around easier. Nobody ever bumped into her, and her legs being almost twice as long made getting across the quad was ridiculously fast. The teachers didn't mind when the tall and muscular amazon answered for Jen in class, and it sure made her presentation a lot easier since everyone was paying so much attention to the taller, louder woman's report on modern economics.

The amazon didn't have any particular influence over Jen, especially when she kept up the high-protein diet that she kept craving. Laurie suspected it was all the muscle she was burning just by being so huge and powerful, like how those fighters who go through loads of chicken breast. Jen felt like it was more like an advisor. It encouraged her to eat more meat. She instinctively looked for spots of the room she was in that were the most defensible or climbable, and it kept making her consider leaping across rooftops or scaling trees for shortcuts. It told her what made the best weapons in the room and what squirrels in the quad would make the tastiest game to hunt. It never made her do anything, but she had to brush off these new little distractions.

There were the occasional downsides. The face instinctively went into this stony glare, but making herself smile at random times seemed to shrug that off pretty easily. She had to replace her wardrobe, of course, since her sweaters now barely went past her tits. Laurie tried to help out with picking up some new outfits during the week, but she kept feeling uncomfortable. She thought it was because they were too revealing or flashy for her liking, but she soon realized it was that they were too constricting. The amazon was restless with wearing something as tight as stretch pants or even bras.

"It's like... I keep thinking this phrase when it happens. 'Amazons wear no chains. We run free."

"That's so dope," Laurie replied with a shake of her head. "You do you then, girl."

Jen had decided to tap into the amazon side a little and see what would leave her comfortable. Apparently, Jen "doing her" was a lot of loose tank tops, long skirts, and actually a stop by the fabric store to make her own loose loincloths for when she was lounging around their dorm.

It was a strange couple weeks, but she had been looking forward to that coming weekend. Despite her mousey nature, she did have a boyfriend back in her hometown. They were both active online, usually, but she had been chatting less and less. The amazon instincts got antsy around any technology more advanced than a toaster, so she found herself going on walks or catching up on her reading rather than browsing the internet.

When Trevor showed up, he was his same old self. Pale, skinny, wearing a dark hoodie. Jen had thought he was one of those edgy kids before she actually talked to him on the bus. It turned out he had just been cursed by a vampire. He wasn't even an actual vampire, he just had the same urges. Avoid the sunlight, charm women, staying pale and skinny... biting a little when he kissed. Jen had been easily charmed by him and they had been dating for a year now, despite Trevor living in her hometown and only really spending time every couple months.

"Hey, Jen," he greeted, gladly taking the hoodie off his blonde hair once he was in the room. Laurie had insisted she had something else to do so she left the room for them to be alone. "So you really weren't kidding."

"Nope," Jen said, shrugging her muscular shoulders. She had worn one of her nicer muscle shirts for his visit, a pale blue one that brought out the dark colors of her tan, and a long brown leather skirt that went to her knees. She stayed barefoot, of course, since sandals were easier to get than size 14 men's shoes. "You look good, tough."

"Oh. Yea, thanks," Trevor said dismissively as he stayed standing. "So... weird, huh?"

"A little," Jen admitted. "But it's not all bad. I've got more curves, and the girls basketball team has been asking about me."

"Really? You're not thinking of joining, right?"

"Well... yea. It's easy when I'm almost as big as the basket. And I think I'm starting to like all the exercise and competition. Better than playing a lot of Space Crafters and stalking Facebook, right?"

"Yea, I guess." Trevor kept standing as he itched his nose until Jen spoke again firmly.

"Sit!" It was a more aggressive invitation than it was a command, but Trevor swiftly sat in the chair by her bed. She didn't like the uneasy look on his face. "So... Laurie's going to be out for a while. Did you want to... y'know. Try taking the new body for a test drive?" Jen's smile came off as mousey but she really was excited. The amazon wasn't especially horny, but the prospect of having a man around who was HERS was definitely an interest it shared with Jen.

"Yea, about that... you've been sort of distant lately..." Trevor started.

Jen blinked at him for a moment as her muscles visibly tensed. "Well... yea. I'm going through a lot of changes. Junior year's been crazy, and then the costume party. Not to mention growing two feet and gaining a hundred pounds of muscle..."

"Right... and that. You're definitely not the same girl I met in high school."

"What do you mean?" Jen's meek smile dropped completely as she looked at him with concern.

"Like, you were cute in this little geeky way that I loved. It might have been the distance or that part that really needed me, but now... look at you." He gestured at her, before pausing and gesturing a lot higher so it went towards her face. "You're tall, you're confident. You told me you're hunting deer with a homemade spear..."

"I said I was THINKING about hunting SQUIRRELS," she corrected firmly. "And the spear is just a project for Creative Woodshop."

"Right. That. And I dunno. Are you not feeling this anymore either?"

The giant, silver-haired amazon bit her lip. "I don't know what you mean. I missed you..." Her heart was racing, and something was pushing at the back of her mind. The amazon was picking up something, but it was something new. She was trying to sort it out.

"Look, I'm not gonna lie to you. We were great. But I think the vampire in my liked when you were weak and vulnerable, and that was fun. Now... now you're all roided up and tan and trying out for sports... that's not you. The vampire side's just not liking it, so I don't know if I can keep-"

Jen was getting more flustered. She didn't know what to say or do, and she felt like tears were coming soon. The amazon, though... she was pounding on the walls inside her brain. She wanted something desperately. She knew something. It wasn't the urge to fight or hunt, because she knew that one. Without anything better to do, she shut her eyes and focused on the instincts.

"You're lying to me," Jen said, low and grim as the glare took over.

"Uh... what?" Trevor shifted in his seat.

"You lied. Your pulse changed and you smelled of fear when you mentioned the curse." Jen stood up to loom over him at her full height. "And you don't smell of vampire. Or curse."

"Jen, you're freaking out now..." Trevor warned, but he was visibly tensing.

"You're not even cursed! You were using that to hit on me and now you're using it to dump me!" Trevor looked terrified, but he was frozen under her glare rather than trying to run or lie his way out of it again. "You're a transform poser!? Are you SERIOUSLY so insensitive that you're going to try to break up with me because of my curse with your own made up curse!?"

"Jen, you kind of liked it when I first..."

Jen caught him by the collar of his hoodie and lifted him out of the chair. She pinned him against the wall as her muscles bulged with tensing veins. The amazon was on a rampage, and Jen was perfectly fine to let it go. She was feeling pretty satisfied to watch Trevor's (naturally) pale skin turn red as the hoodie suddenly fit too tight around his neck. The hawk eyes were staring right into him like they wanted to rip him apart.

"You listen to me, you pasty little sneak! I do NOT need you. We need no man! And you are a disgrace to your tribe if you are too cowardly to appreciate an amazon's beauty!"

"Uh... tribe?" Trevor managed to choke out.

"AT WHAT POINT DID I SOUND LIKE I WAS FINISHED!?" She boomed so loudly Trevor shut up on the spot. "I am a warrior and a woman, and you do not disrespect either of those things. The amazons wear no chains, and if you are so weak and worthless, then I have no reason to house any traitor in my den."

"I think you meant... dorm," Trevor grunted from his awkward position against the wall. Jen just opened the door and flung him out hard enough that he smacked into the far wall.

"I'll waste no more meat on you, rat-skinning runt!" Jen snapped with a stomp of her heavy foot. "Now flee and know that the next time I see you will be down the sights of my bow!" Trevor took a minute to get over his confusion at her choice of words before he blushed and scampered off. It was only then that Jen noticed a few other girls were in the halls staring at her. She cleared her throat as the original Jen took back over, the amazon seeming especially satisfied by the performance. Apparently, so was the crowd as her dorm-mates clapped and cheered for her.

Jen blushed harder and started back into her room when she saw Laurie come jogging down the hall after her. "Jen! Hey! You okay?" she asked with a wide smile on her face.

"Uh, yea," Jen mumbled, rubbing one of her powerful arms awkwardly. "I kind of broke up with Trevor. Or part of me did. I thought you were going to be busy."

"Jenny, I heard that from across campus with the 'shut thy mouth' talk!"

"Okay, I definitely didn't say that..."

"Still! Good for you! Twilight boy looked like he was having a heart attack when he went downstairs." Laurie gave her a light punch in the arm that didn't even leave a dent on Jen's muscles. "I think I like girl power Jenny better!"

Jen laughed and shrugged her muscular shoulders. "Yea, well... I think I might too." She wasn't exactly planning on letting the amazon take over very often, but she was definitely going to treat it to all the meat it could handle tonight.

Henero Media and Le Fetiche Present: Birtha the Strongwoman

So I got hired on by a group called Henero Media a few months back. Basics as I understand it, they're trying to make big hentai/ecchi/smutty comics, games and stories to give us commission writers and artists a cozy spot to work out of and give folks bigger projects rather than whatever we can throw together. They're not producing too much yet, but I was hired on to write scripts for a circus-themed dating sim and a comic about a shortstack Frankenstein's monstergirl. I got their permission to post the scripts for the few scenes I wrote before they slowed down to regroup on their budget, so I thought I'd share what I did for them and get them a bit of a boost. And hey, if they get enough money, they can afford these sweet wordomancy skills again!
  
This one's a variously erotic show by their musclebound Russian weightlifter, who happens to be fucking the shortstack clown that announces her shows. They were a real cute couple I really approved of in the cast...  and again, commissioned and permitted to use by https://www.patreon.com/heneromedia

Show starting at 01PM (Birtha: The World's Strongest Woman)
Featured Acts [Birtha, Rosey]
Summary of the act: Birtha uses her massive muscles for feats of incredible sexual strength. Performed alongside her wife, Rosey the clown.
- Event sequence start -
(action): Rosey the clown is the first to step into view. She's a short redhead clad in a skimpy outfit, showing off a lot of chalk-white makeup all over her body and a pair of tits that looked like they belonged to a woman twice her height. The crowd claps and whistles for her as she waves and smiles sweetly before address her microphone.
(Rosey) dialogue: "Thank you all for coming! So good to see you all today! Always love a big audience. El Fetiche just loooves those who like to watch!"
(action): Rosey winks to the audience to emphasize her innuendo."
(Rosey) dialogue: "So I won't keep you from our show any longer. Let me introduce you to the strongest, and in my opinion sexiest woman in El Fetiche AND the world! Hailing from Humpanov, Russia, I present to you: BIRTHA!"
(action): The next woman to step out is a towering brunette, seven feet tall at least. Every part of her is visibly filled with muscles, even her round and perky breasts. She certainly LOOKS the part of the strongest woman in the world in her revealing one piece swimsuit that shows off her iron-like abs.
The brawny Russian starts flexing and posing through the applause, letting the audience get plenty of good looks at her impressive mountain of a body. Every time she brings her arm close to her chest, her big biceps and breasts inevitably collide in a meeting of soft but firmly flexing flesh.
Rosey has wheeled out a pushcart while Birtha was posing, loaded with various weights and heavy sextoys with a large scale mounted in the middle. Rosey pushed it with some visible effort until Birtha turns and yanks it the rest of the way over with a quick tug. Rosey gives her an appreciative (and jiggly) little nod before stepping back.
Birtha steps up to the cart, considers the barbells a bit, and then sets a large iron one on the scale. The digital scale shows it as 100 pounds before she grabs one in each arm, pumping them rapidly. The crowd whistles, at the very least since her breasts bulge up and down as she works the small but dense weights up and down. Birtha tips her head at Rosey, who steps up to hold a microphone high into the air for her to use.
(Birtha) dialogue: "You all impress too easy."
(action): The crowd laughs as she returns to the scale, setting down one of the larger barbells. It shows 200 pounds, but then she piles on more and more weights. Soon it's loaded with metal rings and showing it as 800 pounds. Birtha just takes a quick breath, sending a small ripple through her breasts and muscles, then grabs it in both hands and lifts it up to her chin. The crowd enters a few more outbursts as she hefts it, the bulge of her various muscles making it clear that it takes some effort, but Birtha smirks and hardly seems to sweat from the feat of strength. At one point she lifts it high over her head, holding it there as her breasts and muscles bulge from the stretching of her intensely built body. Rosey even steps in under the raised barbell to lovingly caress Birtha's impossibly hard abs and taut thighs. It gets a smile from the weightlifter, but her strength doesn't falter.
(Rosey) dialogue: "You look like you could use a snack, hon."
Rosey goes behind the cart of props, coming back with a few large pieces of fruit. She tosses a grapefruit to Birtha, which she catches in one hand. She promptly crushes it until the juice bleeds out between her fingers and the pulp hits the floor. Rosey tosses her another, and then another. This time, Birtha catches them both, skillfully balancing them between her biceps and forearms. Showing exceptional control, she bounces her biceps to roll the grapefruits around showily. Finally, she finishes these like their predecessor, lifting and flexing her arms hard enough to pop them between her dense muscles.
Rosey grabs a watermelon that’s half as big as she is. She clearly struggles to heft it up, and Birtha has to reach out and take it from her with ease. You think you know where this is going, having seen women crush melons between their thighs online. Birtha instead holds it up between her huge breasts, flexing her chest and arms so that her breasts hold the melon up. She removed her hands to show that her pecs and tits alone are holding it up, getting some cheers and hoots from the crowd. You can see a bit of effort in her expression, but she still smiles showily. At last, she gives a loud, angry grunt and clenches her shoulders. The melon pops in between her jugs as if it had been hit by a hammer.
Rosey passes Birtha a towel, which she uses to both wipe up most of the juices that make her muscles glisten. The clown also brings over a long dildo with a weighted base. It makes it stand straight up when Rosey secures it to the ground, all while Birtha goes back to her overloaded barbell. The Russian takes a moment to pull aside the crotch of her costume, baring her snatch to the crowd and getting a bunch of quick whistles and cheers.
Birtha takes the barbell across her shoulders this time, returning to her position in the center of the stage by Rosey. Birtha stands over the dildo and starts doing squats that slide the dildo in and out of her. The crowd picks up its enthusiasm even further as she performs even more sexual feats of strength, fucking herself on the phallus to the rhythm of her clanking weights. Rosey watches her with an obsessive stare and a delighted smile, even rubbing her thighs together as she sees her burly wife at work. Birtha's last lift takes her all the way down as she takes the shaft all the way inside her, holding it there for a moment to turn and plant an assertive kiss to Rosey's mouth. Rosey finally parts from the kiss and carefully climbs onto Rosie’s back, adding even more weight on Birtha’s shoulders. She still lifts herself back up, leaving the mounted dildo slick with her juices. Rosey wraps an arm around Birtha's neck, posing for the crowd as she rides on the strongwoman's broad shoulders. Birtha does a couple more reps before she sets the barbell back on her cart.
Birtha flexes one arm, and Rosey is quick to lovingly squeeze and rub the hard bulge of her bicep. Birtha keeps the arm flexed as she leans to one side, making Rosey slide down her arm. The clown grabs her forearm to catch herself, but she gives a pleased little squeak as she ends up planting her crotch right on top of her wife's bicep. Her body bounces a few times, but then you realize that it's from Birtha flexing her muscles beneath her. Rosey seems to absolutely love it as she holds Birtha's arms tightly, kissing the Russian bride's fingertips with a lusty, wide-eyed stare. Rosey starts grinding her hips, riding the curve of Birtha's muscles with obvious arousal.
Birtha watches Rosey ride her arm until she reaches around with her other hand. The clown raises her ass to let Birtha's strong hand slide under her hips, pulling aside the bottom of Rosey's leotard and rub at her pussy. It's impressive enough that she's holding her up with one arm, but then she palms Rosey's crotch and lifts her up in her hand. Rosey keeps humping as she seems to get more and more aroused by the feat of strength until Birtha is literally holding up Rosey with one finger. The busty little clown sits like a busty popsicle skewered on the flexing index finger that supports her entire weight. Rosey starts to moan and grind faster, riding the finger as if she were getting fucked cowgirl position.
(Rosey) dialogue: "Ohh! Ohhhh! Ahhhhhhn!"
(action): The lady clown finally cums hard, screaming through a passionate orgasm over her wife's powerful hand. Birtha kisses her deeply, tongues rolling together just outside their lips before she set down her wife.
(Rosey) dialogue: "Let’s hope you’re not too wet for this next part.”
(action): Rosey giggles as she steps back helps Birtha slowly pull off her outfit. It's dark in spots from Birtha's sweat and pussy juice by the time that Rosey carries it off to the cart. Birtha reaches over to take one of the small but hefty weights (the scale shows it at 75 pounds) and placing it between her damp thighs. It looks as if she's going to hold them up by flexing her legs, but instead she lifts it even higher. The handle of the weight wedged between her pussy lips, and you can see her abs tense as the flexes her vaginal muscles to clamp around it. She slowly withdraws her hand, letting the crowd see her holding up the dense little dumbbell with nothing but her pussy. She even flexes her groin, making the weight dip in and out of her slightly from the small but powerful muscles at work.
Birtha steadies her breathing for a bit before she gestures for Rosey to come over. The curvy little clown comes over, lugging a heavy metal weight onto the scale (25 pounds, apparently). She drags it over to set in front of Birtha, then another just like it, all while Birtha keeps pumping the dumbbell with her snatch and giving off the occasional grunt. Whether they're from pleasure or effort isn't clear. Birtha squats down so that Rosey can reach her, the clown hoisting one up to Bertha's chest. The crowd mutters and gasps as they see what's happening; Rosey attaches a sturdy metal clamp onto each of her nipples, each linked by a chain to the weights. Birtha gives a soft inhale with each one being linked into place, but she stands back up with a triumphant, husky grunt. The weights clink together, but her tits remain proudly upright, the pectorals flexed tightly around her chest. STILL the weight remains in her pussy, showing her incredible stamina, durability, and muscle control all in one complex stunt.
Birtha finally lowers herself to let Rosey remove the clamps, the weights thudding heavily on the ground as the crowd applauds.
(Birtha) dialogue: "Hoo! So much praise for Birtha from pretty audience! Is getting Birtha very excited, my love!"
(Rosey) dialogue: "Teehee. Then let me get your favorite toy."
(action): Rosey fetches what appears to be a perfectly normal iron rod, as thick around as your fist. Rosey whacks it against one of the weights to give a convincingly dense clang before she runs it teasingly up Birtha's body. The mountain of a woman purrs as it traces up her pussy, abs, and breasts, finally brushing against her chin. Birtha takes it from there, taking the metal pole and with a visible (but seemingly effortless) bulge of her muscles, she slowly bends the bar into a near perfect semicircle. The crowd claps as if that was the entire trick, but then Birtha holds it out in front of her and pushes it forward.
The angle makes the opposite end dip right into her pussy, apparently bent to the exact angle she needed to pleasure herself. The dark metal pushes in and out of her folds, Birtha moaning and shutting her eyes as she fucks herself with the same prop she just used to show her incredible strength. The end of the metal pole is soon wet with her juices, and she squeezes her handhold on it until it starts to bend even further in her exhibitionist lust. With a hearty growl, she finally cums all over the stage, squirting hard as you see her thighs clench together around the pole. Between that and her strong hands, the rod bends into a crude knot as it yields to her strength.
(Rosey) dialogue: "Phew! Lucky you folks in the front row, this isn't the one of those 'you will get wet' shows."
(action): Rosey gets a few laughs from that.
(Rosey) dialogue: "So, my buff babe! Do we have anything else we can treat them to instead?"
(action): Birtha removed the pole from herself and sets it on the cart, cracking her knuckles as she shakes off the afterglow. She steps up to the front row and grabs a long steel bar that's embedded in the base of the low wall separating the seats from the show. She tenses her shoulders and braces her feet, and with a loud grunt of a growl, she lifts up the front and center seats all at once! Almost a dozen people, complete with the wood framework of their area, are lifted out of the stands like a giant barbell. The people in the seats gasp and laugh as even that gets Birtha a bit red-faced, but that appears to be more from the orgasm that is still dribbling down her legs. She sets them back down carefully, getting a praising smack on the ass from Rosey.
(Rosey) dialogue: "That's my girl! Now, for our final act! Ladies and gentlemen, brace your loins and hide your virgins! Our next act involves marital aids that are illegal in 9 countries! There were only 8 ever made, and there are 5 left in existance! They say it was based on an ancient fertility idol found deep in The Amazons! For her next trick, Birtha will be lifting the world's heaviest sex toy. Weighing in at ten tons, I give you the Angry X-Boyfriend!"
(action): Rosey takes a remote from among the weight set and hits a switch. There's the growl of an engine as a forklift brings out a huge, man-sized metallic dildo. It's set down beside Birtha with a dense thud that kicks up dust, and you can feel its weight rumble the seats to emphasize its weight. Birtha looks it up and down and then frowns as she folds her brawny arms across her full breasts.
(Birtha) dialogue: "Too easy."
(action): The crowd gives a mix of awkward chuckles and murmurs. Rosey looks surprised, and a bit of blush shows through her pale makeup. You can almost see her nipples stiffening at the boast.
(Rosey) dialogue: "Oh really!? Did you have something special in mind for this big boy?"
(Birtha) dialogue: "Birtha will be lifting with no hands."
(action): The audience laughs or applauds, depending on how much they believe the claim. Regardless, Birtha holds her hands in front of her. Rosey reaches into her chalk-white cleavage and pulls out a pair of handcuffs, shrugs, and clips them around Birtha's wrists. Birtha rolls her shoulders, bounces her breasts a few times by flexing her pecs, and steps up in front of the beast of a dildo with focus on her face. Rosey addresses the audience quietly for a moment through her microphone.
(Rosey) dialogue: "My dearest perverts, this has never been done before! Birtha will be lifting the heaviest sex toy known to woman. She needs the utmost quiet and focus to achieve this... AH, HELL WITH THAT! Let's cheer her on, folks!"
(action): Rosey starts to pump the crowd into a chant as Birtha leans into the X-Boyfriend.
(Rosey and the Crowd): "Birth! Birtha! Birtha!"
(action): Birtha tenses her whole body to focus on her powerful tits. They press around the sex toy (which looks more like a sex weapon) and then leans back. The ten-ton dildo is lifted several feet off the ground, getting a giant outburst of cheers and applause from the audience. Birtha jiggles her breasts, making them wobble around and bounce the giant cock around between them. She hooks one of her arms as Rosey approaches, Birtha giving her a strained but amused grin. The clown steps on her forearm and climbs up the woman nearly twice her height until Rosey is sitting on the tip of the colossal dildo. She crosses her legs daintily and poses for the crowd, breaking it to giggle when Birtha flexes again to make it vibrate beneath her. Rosey turns around, laying across the broad tip of the X-Boyfriend as she passionately kisses her muscular wife.
Her point made, Birtha pulls her arms apart and pulls her hands apart and snaps the handcuffs in half. She catches Rosey before she relaxes her chest and drops the 10-ton dildo to the ground. Birtha cradles her bride while wearing nothing but a pair of metal bracelets, kissing all over her painted cheeks. Rosey giggles as she grabs the microphone again.
(Rosey) dialogue: "Well, my super strong slut here won't leave me alone until I reward her for all that. Wasn't it a great show, everyone!?"
(action): The crowd whistles and cheers as Birtha treats them to a wave and another flex of her arm before she carries the cradled Rosey backstage.

Birthday Bonus Story - Borderlands: Biggs and Liddie

So just a writing prompt I asked for on 4chan. Felt like writing something dumb on my birthday, so I asked the Shortstack thread for ideas on a short story; got the request for a midget and hulking pair of female psychos from Borderlands. I fucking LOVE those games (co-op PvE is my jam) and could play them for years. Basically for you outsiders, most of it's explained beyond it being a scifi wasteland of a planet. Hilarious and very fun game. Grab em on the cheap if you can. But yea, the story's got some cartoonish violence to it, so don't mind a bit of blood and implied cannibalism.I also  wrote the ending as a last-minute joke, but I feel confident that I could come up with some further story to this. Whether it's the two lunatics having sweet but murderous adventures, or some kind of parody or side-story to the Borderlands universe, I'm not sure. Or just introducing 4 fetish-based characters that would be "playable characters" being offered with these as their cinematic teasers. Perhaps even some shitty stat/move lists for em.


The caravan was supposed to be safe. Everyone on Pandora knew that the word “safe” was a huge overstatement, as even the large settlements could be assaulted by asteroids, sandstorms, giant worms, giant robots, lunatics, traitors out to make a quick buck, or the ever-present psychos. They said that the laborers/prisoners on the planet were dumped there ages ago when something they found broke their minds, and it was difficult to stake out any territory on the sandy asshole of a planet without running into a bunch of the raving, masked monsters of men.
That was the odd thing, Carlos thought. There were never any lady psychos. Sure, there were some hardass mercs and bandits, but the full blown loony ones? Closest he ever heard was of a little girl who’d blow you up as quick as talk to you, depending on her mood, but she seemed sort of… cracked, not broken. His mind wandered on that subject for a minute while he stood watch on top of the caravan’s eponymous van, strapped into a lawn chair on top. He grabbed on when the van bounced wildly, loud bursting noises coming from below followed by more popping and rattling behind him.
“The fuck was that!?” he called down as the van barely kept from tipping over in its haste to brake among the dunes. The tanned young man leaned over to his driver and his man literally riding shotgun, who stepped out and nearly whacked him in the head with the opening door. They stepped out, where Angus kicked the tire with his metal foot.
“Shit busted it open,” he grunted. He knelt down and picked something out. “Looks like bone. Skags, prob’ly. Those persistent little shits can’t even stay dead without causin’ trouble…” The rest of the vehicles unloaded, reporting similar troubles from the buried debris.
Carlos glanced over at Angus, the big fat thug of a trader. “Are skag bones usually that sharp, though?”
“Could have been sharpened. Wind got them the wrong way, or just…” Angus paused as if sensing the omen of his words, right before the huge BLAM! drowned out the sound of his head popping. The posse stared at his body, which took a moment to realize it was dead and drop thanks to his sturdy prosthetic. Everyone drew their guns and pointed them all over in a panic, not thinking to check the splatter to spot the sniper.
There came a noise like a bellow of a sandworm, but as it reached it peak, they were able to pinpoint it as a huge, deep voice bellowing “FUCK!” and drawing out the U for a good thirty seconds. Hurdling between a pair of rocks, there was a massive woman, built out of nothing but pure muscle, scar tissue, and leather with a little bit of hair as if an afterthought. She wielded a gigantic sniper rifle tipped with what looked like a kitchen knife tied to the barrel, the weapon a good two feet longer than her already 8 foot figure mutated by god knew what kind of chems and mutated diet that grew on Pandora. Leather straps crisscrossed her chest, holding back broad, dense breasts that threatened to turn into pecs, but they simply were there to minimize jiggling since she had her hard nipples out in the open air. She had mismatched combat boots (red and blue) and a gas mask that had been severely cracked and busted open, defeating its actual purpose as her bulging green eye, the edge of a crooked smile, and some blood red hair, missing several large patches, poked out from it.
“Badass psycho! Take it down!” one of the crew shouted as they opened fire. The psycho woman ran straight for them, but at such speed it was hard to predict how close she’d be, not what direction. She also swung up her rifle to fire singlehandedly, not an accurate approach but absolutely powerful enough to rip a few limbs off the defending party. When she was in range, she thrust out her sniper rifle like a spear and ran the other two drivers through like a kebab.
As the psycho got close enough for Carlos to make out her wild expression, he raised his machine pistol and opened fire. The small rounds grazed the giant woman’s stomach and leg, enough to make her stumble. He knew there was no “wounding” a psycho, though. They were dead or they were still perfectly murderous. He moved to quickly pop a fresh clip in, but he noticed the pack she was wearing; it had no weapons or ammo in it, but what appeared to be a purple-haired child…
The “child” looked up at him with dilated red eyes and scars over her face, and with a peculiar stubbiness to her limbs and stout muscle to her that made it clear that no matter how tough living out here was, it was no child at all. As soon as she met his eyes, the midget psycho frothed at her scarred mouth as if she’d just smelled the blood of her big  partner.
“Midget! She’s packing a midget!” Carlos shouted out right before the hulking bandit grabbed the agile little shit and flung her like a 100 lb grenade out from the pack. The dwarf wore nothing but a pair of cargo shorts that had been reduced to a flimsy skirt and a life vest, both of which barely covered her overly plump breasts and hips that even outshone the giant one’s curves. Her legs were like iron, with thighs as thick as a horse’s, and had a pair of tomahawks made of pipes and rusty metal that she whipped out in midair.
“I’M THE PRESIDENT OF MEAT TOWN, YA MAGGOT FARM!”
Right before the little psycho and her little ax split open Carlos’ head, the crew’s lives and a title card flashed before their eyes, announcing their demise:
Biggs and Liddie!! (get it? Cuz they’re big and little?)
Biggs whirled and roared as she slashed the throat out of one more gunner with the end of her rifle-spear. Two of them ran for cover behind one of the crippled cars, but Biggs kicked it with her boot hard enough to tip it over and squash them both. Liddie whipped one of her axes into the gut of another while she was busy unrooting her second from Carlo’s brains. “Gimme back! Gimme gimme!” she squeaked in her unnaturally high voice, planting her boot on his face to rip her axe out. One of the bigger bodyguards caught her by surprise as he smashed her face with the butt of his rifle. Her button nose crunched and tilted to the right as it became a blood faucet, but she was otherwise perfectly unfazed as she gave a feral scream and smashed her bloody forehead into his crotch. The guard bent over to cup his junk, letting Liddie flip the rifle up and slap the trigger with a tiny finger to force him to shoot his own skull open. “Confetti time!” she shrieked in delight as the gore trickled back down over her.
She turned back to see one trying to flee the carnage while Biggs was caught up in slowly crushing the last remaining man’s skull between her big, veiny hands. “Gonna make you pop like… like err... a pop song,” she gurgled deeply. The hulking psycho actually dropped her manic grin to look over at Liddie. “Lids! I don’t has a good one! Help me out here!”
“Can’t!” Liddie piped merrily as she stuck her hatchet into her teeth and bolted after the fleeing woman on all fours. “More crotches to chop!”
Biggs grunted and rolled her bulging eyes. “Sorry,” she grumbled to the shuddering victim in her grasp. “I’m usually a little more prepared for this.” One more squeeze collapsed the skull between her hands as she heard a few last squeals from Liddie’s direction.
It was a hell of a score! Health packs, rations, ammo, spare parts… they wouldn’t be able to haul it all back, so they picked and chose. Most of it would be scavenged by skags or other bandits by the time they got back, so they kept the best food and the sharpest, nastiest pieces of metal as top priority. They made it back to the cave, their den under a rocky outcropping that was loaded with old and useless shit. Faded out street signs and things that kind of made sense to a tiny, distant part of their brains from before. But that was before! Before the good times. Before everything made sense. Before everything became blood and meat and that elation of the sight.
Biggs tossed the ration crates into a corner while Liddie stuck the body parts around the place; whether as decorations, snacks for later, or warning signs out front. The midget scurried back in and started to poke at Bigg’s wounded leg and belly. She groaned and pulled off her pants, then her mask and straps to leave herself perfectly nude. There was a lot of red under her clothes, whether the bloody marks or her lazily ignored body hair under her arms and just below her abs. She braced her arms over the old locker, spreading her arms and legs expectantly.
Liddie went about her usual treatment: she climbed onto Biggs’ lap, bare crotch on her knee while she licked and bit at the wounds, occasionally spitting out a bullet or two. The health packs were boring. They didn’t have enough stimulants or painkillers to get their rocks off anymore, so they were no fun to use at all. If Biggs got bored or it stung too much, she’d shove at the wild-eyed munchkin’s face. Liddie would just bite one of her fingers with her bloody teeth, getting the hulk to grunt and relax back into her receptive position.
The lunatics had reached a nearly symbiotic state at this point. Big and loud paired with little and… also loud. Liddie surprised people and did handy little things that Biggs was too dumb, lazy, or twitchy to deal with. Biggs lugged her around, keeping her plump on loot and corpses and generally scaring off any would-be predators or kidnappers. The spiderants could wolf her down in two bites, and the nomads were famous for taking midgets as literal meat shields. All you needed was a plank of wood or an old door and some chain to hold the bitch in place.
It was where Biggs had found her, all that time ago: in her frenzy, Biggs had torn the shield out of the thug’s hand and threw it away before she realized there was a person on it. Liddie looked too small to eat, especially after that fat bandit, but there was something… more.
Liddie finished with the bullets, but wasn’t done feasting on her partner. She licked the blood from her lips and met her eyes. “Eatin’ lead makes me hungry!” she barked/squeaked up at Biggs.
“Give it good, ya little leech,” Biggs grumbled, but her deep voice more of a mother bear than a menacing monster. A low rumble to comfort rather than intimidate, like a beast of burden. Lidde gave a giddy little giggle and stooped to her knees, her heavy breasts popping out of her life vest at the slightest opportunity. Biggs gave them a squeeze with one meaty hand, but it was… gentle. An adjective she didn’t use very often in her actions.
When the madness spread and the inhabitants went wild, the pretty ones went first. They were used up and slaughtered like the prizes of the litter. The female psychos, they didn’t fit in well when everyone’s urges went wild. There was only so much a gal could do except get… well, ugly. There was an unspoken understanding between the two, and not just because they could barely form a sentence. Their eyes met again, like they did that fateful night when they’d first seen each other. Finally found someone who understood and that they could trust, and trust themselves with.
Biggs reached down and pet the violet hair of her little lover, three fingers enough to cover the munchkin’s entire skull. “I’d never eat you,” she grumbled to her. The sentiment brought a few thick tears to the giantess’ eyes, running over the deep scars that mapped her ruined face.
Liddie looked up sadly and climbed up Biggs’ thick thigh, then up her chest and abs like a beefy ladder before she licked the tears out of the furrows of her scars. “Shut your sad up,” Liddie cooed before kissing the salty drops back into Biggs’ mouth. Her thick tongue rolled around with the little appendage not even the size of Biggs’ thumb, grabbing the runt by the arms and lifting her off her feet. Liddie didn’t even jolt from her powerful grip, the devastated remains of human beings finding a sick, strange satisfaction in being with each other. Even with Biggs’ tongue only able to fit its tip into her partner’s mouth and her drool flooding over a partially missing lip, Liddie kissed back with all she had, slurping up the saliva like a helpful caretaker.
“Gimme,” Liddie repeated softly. “Gimme your guts.” Biggs grunted quietly and turned her upside down, handling the midget with a careless ease before stuffing her between her legs like a chubby sex toy. Liddie immediately cooed like a comforted animal, sniffing and then slurping at the shaggy, sweaty privates. Biggs let out a long, almost whale-like groan as her eager little mouth went to work. There was no clear reasoning behind it beyond pleasure; it wasn’t Liddie doing it as a task for Biggs, or Biggs letting Liddie have her pleasure. It just made sense to them. It said for them both what they couldn’t say with words (in this case, because most of the words were swears or synonyms for meat).
Liddie’s little tongue lapped and poked around inside the powerful psycho, her muscles seeming to tense and bulge at random as the pleasure echoed through her body. Liddie popped her lips around her engorged clit, bigger than two of Liddie’s nimble fingers between all the chems Biggs was on at any given time of day. She sucked on it like a baby’s bottle, getting more violent spasms and huskier growls from Biggs. The kind that would make most people run and think she was revving up for something especially nasty (which in some sense of the word, she was).
Being turned over as she was, Liddie’s skirt had flipped up to dangle around her chest. The little pussy was presented in front of the goliath, along with a telltale scar than down down to her labia and the sporadically growing pubic hair that resulted. Never one to shy away from a scar, Biggs hugged the runt to her chest tight enough to burly her fat tongue into her snatch. Liddie squealed and kicked her little feet, more in excitement than pain or fear. The slimy appendage filled her to the brim, enough that her drool overran it to pool in between her chubby cheeks and down her ass crack. Liddie let out some wild whoops and yips as the bigger girl quickly worked her into a frenzy, adding to her appetite for her psychotic lover.
The hyper little Liddie squirted like a little water fountain or a reversed impression of an emptying bucket. She kicked her feet and chanted “Gimme gimme gimmeeee!” to demand more, refusing to stop her obnoxiously high-pitched song until she squirted a second time. At that point she returned to her oral attention, letting the brutish partner grope at her fleshy titties for a new set of handles. Liddie started leaning a little hand on Biggs’ fresh bullet wounds and digging her teeth into the rubbery flesh of her enormous clit. Between the size difference and her drug-addled mind, this appeared to be just what the mad doctor ordered.
Biggs let out a roar that seemed to choke out halfway through and actually emit a womanly sob. It was the only time that Liddie ever heard her voice get that high, right before her big outburst after their playtime. The killing had wound her up, and it was the perfect cooldown she needed. Of course, Biggs had to hold onto her tightly as she came over her face, gushing hard enough that Liddie squirmed as if she’d be washed away by it.
Sticky with each other’s various fluids, the bandit finally released her orgasmic death grip on Liddie. The relaxing midget emitted a tiny fart, getting her thuggish partner to toss her onto the pile of bloody blankets they used as a bed. She plopped into it with a cackle as Biggs stomped over and flopped on top of her like a blanket of flesh and muscle.
“Shut your face, little one,” Biggs growled. “Soon the sun will burn you alive.”
“Tuck us in?” Liddie chirped. Biggs responded with a headbutt from one thick skull to another. Liddie sighed contently, headbutted her back, and fell asleep with the lumbering monster of a woman on top of her.
The two jumped to their feet when the noise woke them back up. It was why Biggs slept with her boots on, and why Liddie just used her calloused little feet anyway. They tilted their heads in near unison, confirming the sound of engines nearby.
“MORE BATHTUBS FULL OF TITS!” Biggs bellowed. She snatched up a handful of random rations, stuffing them into her mouth before slamming her busted gas mask back over her face and forcing her pants back on.
“AND MORE DUBSTEP!” Liddie replied brightly as she clambered onto her partner’s back.
(Biggs and Liddie; part of the Borderlands Bootilicious Season Pass)

Wrestling With Mom (Patreon teaser)

one of the possible long-term stories to show up on the Patreon, based on popular opinion. A boy who's mom is a brutal champion of a wrestler in the ring, but a loving and affectionate ditz outside of work. they explore each other through various venues as their feelings for each other bubble to the surface one night.

Mom always came home the same way: sweaty, bruised, and satisfied. As soon soon as she set eyes on me, she would grab me in a big warm hug, burying me in her muscles. Then she'd start laughing and talking about how she chokeslammed a bitch through a table (or whatever that day's match involved). She'd always ask how my day was, which was always nothing special, then she'd comment on how good dinner smelled and try to guess what it was. She was always wrong. Mom was a wonderful woman, but she was much more about brawn than brains.

It was part of why I still stayed home. Mom was a champion pro wrestler, and I'd say it was all the blows to the head that made her so forgetful if she wasn't always like this. She made plenty of money as "Barb the Berserker," but she'd forget about her bills or to do laundry. She was out all day, either at the gym or the arena, so she usually didn't feel like making actual dinner. It wasn't your traditional family, but becoming mom's "little housewife" just felt... comfortable. It was rewarding to be there for her whenever she needed a hand; even if she was almost a foot bigger than me and had biceps the size of my head, she couldn't cook and lived like kind of a slob when I wasn't around.

She always told me I was the only man left in her life since dad left. I was so little when it happened, I remember asking about him when I was seven. Mom just smiled and said he went away, but always said the same joke about him. "He only ever gave me two good things: my baby boy, and teaching me how to take a punch.

...I didn't really get the last one until I was older.

I was going through college when things got their deepest. My mom was one of the oldest women in the league at 43, but a long-time champ for almost a year at the time. The XFWKVDWL was one of the wrestling leagues that was made when they made "real wrestling" legal. All the realism of boxing with the theatrics of pro wrestling. They kept the staged stuff around, but people ate up the real violence like the coliseum of old.

Barbara Sanders had been a wrestler for most of my life and a lot of her own, so I was sort of jaded to a lot of the world. I didn't bother watching these days unless mom was on or if she wanted to watch it. She was my absolute hero for as long as I could remember. She was a huge woman, built like a tank but with this sweet, beautiful face. It was a shame for her to hide it behind a mask, even if it just covered the top half and ended right above her nose, drawing the eye to the inch-long scar that trailed from her left cheek down past her jaw. She had straight blonde hair and a big chest held up but piles of muscle; muscles that bounced when she laughed and rippled when she tried to get comfortable on the couch. I think that was part of the magic between us; I knew this side of that no one in the world got to see. The shit-talking giant in the arena was the affectionate woman who needed me to make anything more complicated than toast and ate like a horse. It must have been how she kept her feminine curves despite those beefy arms and legs. I inherited her hair and eye color, but apparently turned out lean like my dad instead of a natural linebacker.

The night that things got complicated, she came home still in her wrestling gear. It was that trademark black spandex that clung to her every curve, and a flame pattern along her breasts right below the cleavage. She had calf-high boots with matching colors and a big gym bag over her shoulder. "Hey there, handsome," she chimed, squeezing me in a hug. I could smell her from across the living room, let alone when she engulfed me in her powerful arms.

"Couldn't even change, could you?" I chuckle, but I hug her back as she lifts me off my feet. The only other people she does that with end up getting suplexed.

"Sorry. Match went long. That Warhead bitch doesn't know when to take a hint and stay down. Then I had to sort of limp part of the way out of the ring when she got in that cheap shot on me." I saw mom casually rub at her crotch and wince before flashing me another smile.

"You do always say the locker room showers are shit," I smile, my hands lingering over her hard side and abs for a moment. The contrast of how soft and how firm my mother can feel has been a constant point of interest.

"That and I couldn't wait to see you," she smiled, kissing me on lips. I don't know if she held it a bit too long or if it was just something about her smell or mood today, but it sparked some thoughts in me. I had never dated seriously, even now that I was a year out of highschool and starting to take college courses. I checked out girls, sure, but none of them were as tall, strong, busty, or hot as my mom was. It was a pretty high standard, I guess, but I felt like I was already living with the ideal woman. It made watching her matches when I was alone... pretty intense. I'd cracked years ago and started masturbating to them, a mix of admiration for her body and the bizarre taboo of watching my mom get her ass kicked. Win or lose, she always made it look good, and the crowd loved her. But never in the way I did.

We eat the dinner I made for her once she's changed into some shorts and a tanktop. Mom was never big on a lot of clothes, and with a body like that, it's hard to blame her. We end up in the living room in one of her favorite positions; her sitting cross-legged in front of the couch, tv on while I rub down her muscles. I've been at it for years, so I've gotten good at tending to her muscles. Her shoulders are always stiff from all the heavy lifting, and she hisses and moans when I hit the right spots. I'm lucky I've given her the rubdown enough times to do it blindfolded, because I keep getting distracted by her noises. They're all just like the noises she makes in the ring from a particularly nasty submission hold.

"Mmmm, fuck," she groans as my fingers press into spots just between her collarbone and breasts.

"Warhead got you good, huh?" She nods a bit listlessly and I take on a mock-scolding tone. "I told you to watch out for those cunt busters."

"Too bad you can't massage that one, eh?" she giggles, leaning her head back against my chest. I wonder if she feels my heart racing. As if the spandex wasn't tight enough on her when she wrestled, I lived with her long enough to pass her in her underwear or in just a towel. I've play-wrestled with her when I was little, and she let me pin her on her queen-sized bed. My mom is built like an absolute goddess. She's dated once or twice, but I think she scared them off pretty quickly with her bulk. It's all I've ever known, and I absolutely love her just how she is.

"Too bad," I agree, and I wonder if I could sound any more non-committal. The heavyweight champ is putty in my hands from the back rub.

"Fuck getting married," she eventually sighs. She rolls her head back enough to look upward at me, smiling with that beautiful, mature face on top of her thick body. "We got along fine without your old man, right?" I smile back and nod sincerely. Her smile softens a bit as she takes one of my hands in hers. A calloused thumb rubs over my palm delicately, tickling the skin. "You're the only man in my life, you know?"

"Yea... I know." I've been physically closer to mom than I was now. I've kissed her a thousand times, and I used to fall asleep on her hard body when we watched movies together on the sofa. Everything about the moment felt perfect, especially her. With her long hair tossed back messily from the tilt of her head, I leaned over her and kissed her full on the mouth. I used the moment of courage to lean into it, making sure it was clearly no simple mother and son kiss.

Whether it's out of surprise or acceptance, her mouth opens and I explore one of the few spaces I haven't on the woman. My tongue presses on and touches hers, so all I can hear above my heart pounding is her heavy breathing and the soft sucking and moaning coming from her covered mouth. She squeezes the hand that she was holding, as if the strongest woman in the world was afraid of the intense kiss. I couldn't have remembered how long it went on, but when we break up, my mom is blushing and breathing heavy as she stares up at me.

"Oh, my brave little boy," she mutters softly and keeps on staring with the gentle blue eyes that I've seen swollen shut on some nights. She rubs a hand along my neck before she pulls me back into another kiss. This time she uses the hand she's holding to guide it to her breast. It's one of those few soft parts of her body, but her nipple is a hard little pebble at the tip. I squeeze her big chest in a way that I'm sure is clumsy and amateur, but she doesn't object. She just thrusts her chest into my hands. I have to wonder if the dry spell she's had without dad has made her as pent up and desperate as I am, or if she's just tough enough to take some virgin groping her. She returns the favor with her free hand running over the crotch my pants, which is absolute diamonds by then.

"C'mere." She finally breaks the kiss and lifts me up in her arms. The woman who lifted the Goth Sisters in a double torture rack has no trouble lifting her son whose idea of a workout is a long walk around the neighborhood. She still calls me "little boy" and "baby" after highschool for a reason, I suppose. I rub my hands over her breast and lean into her, trusting her guiding touch as she cradles me so easily. We share intimate and loving (if extremely so) touches and kisses as she carries me into the bedroom. She sets me back on her bed and lays on top of me, her breath breezing over my face and her dense, warm weight pressing against my hips. "I know I've been busy," she says softly, even though she's ensured that we spend some time together every day. "But I ought to see that my good little boy grows into a proper man."

Some small part of my mind wonders what triggered both of us to cross this line today of all days, but the rest of me doesn't care. She kisses my mouth from all these different angles, overloading my senses as I try to keep up. She undresses me in what she probably meant to be careful and intimate, but she loses patience and just rips my shirt over my head and undoes my pants so quickly that I lose a button. I could give a shit as my champ of a mom takes out my cock and wraps her big strong hand around it with ease.

I gasp and tense up as she giggles knowingly. "There's my sweet little man," she teases. Probably not the kind of words you want to hear when a woman has a handful of your dick, but I'm in no position to argue. I feel all the strength in her capable hands used to start stroking me slowly. It's the farthest I've been with a woman before, mother or not, and I'm already dripping precum on her fingers. She either doesn't notice or doesn't care as she leaned beside me and lifts her up top. Her big breasts spill out, and another small scar runs down the side of her right tit. She gives me an inviting smile and braces her arm under my head, hugging me to her tits.

I instinctively latch my mouth onto nipples, sucking and rolling over with with my tongue. The champ moan loudly, her chest flexing and pushing her tits further into my face. I bury myself in her warm, soft tits while her hand pumps tirelessly around my dick. It's all so wildly different from all the time we've spent together that it's like she's another person.

"Come on," she whispers to me. The house is empty apart from us, but she still treats it like our dirty little secret. It just makes it that much dirtier and sexier, but I can't even say so with her big body greedily trapping my face against her. "Be a big boy for mommy. Nice and hard and big now."

I see her softly smiling face just above her jiggling tits. She looks so pleased and proud, even if I'm just fumbling my way through a handjob from my mother. It's as if she wants this as much as I do. I start to think of how brave and strong she is and how vulnerable I get to see her at times like this. I white out for a second I cum in her hand. As my body shakes, she hugs me tightly like a headlock against hers to hold me steady. The only mobility I have, I use to hump at her hand. She keeps stroking until I'm done, my dick locked in her firm grip. I must have shouted or something, because she shushes me gently. "Easy now, tiger. You did good," she assures me as if I had just got done with a teeball game.

I catch my breath leaning against her, rubbing my hands over her breasts since I'm not sure what else to do with them. I can feel my cum running through her fingers and over my dick as I stare up at her, the reality of the moemnt catching up with me. She smirks and raises her eyebrows. "That was pretty fucked up, huh?" she offers.

"Yea. Kinda," I pant. She laughs at my overwhelmed surprise and finally loosens her grip on me, wiping the cum casually on the leg of her shorts.

"I didn't want to rush you," she says, holding me as I'm just floating in afterglow. "I always wanted you to make the first move. Always knew you had the guts to do it some day." She runs her hand over my chest in return, like we're exploring each other after having first met rather than being the woman I had come from. "When your daddy left, you were all I had. Good riddance to his sorry ass, but I meant what I said. You're the only man in my life. Of course, beating up bitches in spandex on TV doesn't exactly draw guys in."

"Really?" I smile, running a hand lower to rub her muscular thigh. It tenses in response and I hear her breathing shift. "Because I jerk off to your wrestling all the time. You are a fucking beast, mom, in the best way possible."

She's charmed by the honest and laughs it off. "Well, now you have a real front row seat to the show," she says teasingly. She rolls over to swing a leg over mine. Her hips rest on top of mine, and my softening dick now has 200+ pounds of woman balance on to of it. She puffs up her naked chest proudly and flexed both of her arms. "So ready for a rematch? Bet I can pin you this time..."

My dick twitches as if trying to spring back to life, but I can only laugh a bit weakly, feeling exhausted. "Maybe... in a sec. I'm no wrestler like you, mom."

She chuckles and runs her hands through my hair, but stays on top of me. "Poor baby. Down for the ten count, huh? It’s alright. We got all the time in the world." She leans down to kiss me, and then seems to think for a second. "That reminds me... ever think of getting into the family business? They’re always looking for new refs, and I could use a manager to watch my back out there.”

"Can't take a chair to the skull like you used to," I grin and kiss her back, lingering there to let the question hang for a while. "I'll... think about it. I'm just kind of overwhelmed right now, mom."

"Your first time'll do that to you," mom smiles. Barb the Berserker slides off of me to lay next to me and let me spend the night in her bed, our relationship changed forever in that one night. "You'll get the hang of it before too long."

I chuckle and rub her thigh. "Yea... rematch."