I first saw her in the gym. It was impossible not to notice her, anyway, for she was so loud and boisterous it was almost as like there was a whole wrestling team on the place.
In a way, that image wasn’t too far-fetched: despite her being a woman just like me, and very into fitness and bodybuilding, she was on such a league apart that even many strong, potent men would amount to a single leg of hers—if that much.
God knows how long I stood still, just looking at her, with my sports bag still over my shoulder, blocking the way of all the other gym members who wanted to come in. In any case, they didn’t mind me; they too were standing still, eyes glistening and jaws dropped, with their teeny-weeny dicks growing and hardening inside their pants, witnessing that which could only be described as a pure miracle of nature.
She was biologically perfect. «Biologically perfect??» I covered my mouth and pondered on what I had just thought. What did that even mean? Did it mean that the woman—that perfect being—was as big, strong, and hard as a horse? Did it mean that she could wrestle a gorilla into the ground and tear his limbs off one by one like a kid plucking the wings of a fly, both brutal and effortless? Did it mean that she was as sexually charged and potent as a breeding bull, her body radiating so much energy that her surroundings were literally melting—the floor and the walls, not to mention the equipment quite literally being distorted by her heat waves? Or that her blood was so superhumanly powerful and scorching that, if she were to have kids, her offspring would quite likely be a new species altogether—much superior and more dominant than the pitiful human species, of which I belonged?
Well, whatever it meant, that expression fit her perfectly: she was biological perfection; the absolute, unquestioned pinnacle of humanity, and her wanton display of strength in that thing only reinforced that. “H-how much is she pulling?” I stammered as time felt back to normal around me, with everyone in the gym finally (albeit slowly) moving again.
“F-five hundred pounds.” Another dude could barely reply. “That’s her warm-up. She just casually picks the barbel with the heaviest weights in the gym and, uh,” he had to clear his throat all the time, “lifts them all the time. I mean, sometimes it’s non-stop. She showed us already.” The poor man—who, on other circumstances, would be a pretty intimidating, 6ft-tall muscle beast—crossed his legs all the time while standing, massaging his throat and scratching his crotch while he contemplated that beast of a woman pull the weights without breaking a fucking sweat. “One day she just did this exercise for as long as her body could take her. We doubted she would last too long, even for her standards, but that beast showed us just how much outclassed we were.” I was shocked by hearing such a big guy (for whom my pussy would usually swell) speak at an increasingly higher pitch, moving his hips and jiggling his waist just like a woman. “She did that all day long. We took track of it. Some of us even took turns while… watching her.” His tongue was trembling at his lips. “Seeing her pull those monstrous weights up.”
I watched her again, seeing the gorgeous muscles of her back throb and ripple. “FUCK YEAH!!” She was loud. “FUCK YEAH, OH, FUCK YEAH, FUCK YEEEEAAH!!!” She literally roared in the middle of the gym, pulling the barbel to the top of her breasts, yet no one dared to interrupt her—no one would have the balls or even the will to. When she was not uttering praises to her own peak physical performance, she was just roaring and growling like a pride of lions, pumping the weights faster and harder just to see how extreme she could push that display.
Everything in her was strength. She loved showing off just how much physically, mentally, genetically superior she was to everyone else. Just when I thought my eyes were deceiving me, I shut them hard and opened them again, shaking my head in the meantime, only to see again what I though had been an illusion: her skin was producing steam! The heat waves were so extreme that the air was distorted around her frame, creating something of a force field or an aura of pure energy, not unlike those we see in an asphalt street on a very hot day.
While the big man spoke and I witnessed her, I felt my pussy swelling and its lips throbbing. I was attracted to no girl, but that right there… she wasn’t a girl. «She’s a fucking monster.»
Her shoulder rippled and throbbed just like my pussy was. Oh, who I am kidding? They were much more powerful than that: her shoulders were huge slabs of titanium muscle, bludgeoning and rippling so much they felt like train engine pulling a whole mountain along the tracks. Her back was such a stupendous wall of muscles that the ins-and-outs, the peaks and the valleys of her fibers looked like some fractal work of art in nature. Their size and symmetry were just mesmerizing, all made so much more enticing thanks to the special glisten of her bronze skin. She wasn’t sweating, yet her body seemed covered in oil.
“She pulled those weights for sixteen hours before the gym had to close. Sixteen fucking hours! No one ever thought any human being could go so far, yet she did, and we were left utterly humiliated (and broke) by the end of that session.” Judging by how hard the big guy scratched his throat, I bet he was feeling all sore and painful there. “She didn’t break sweat. Sixteen hours. Pulling double what she’s pulling now. Sixteen hours! Sometimes, pulling the weight two, almost three times a second… for sixteen fucking hours!”
Just as the guy’s legs trembled when he recounted such a feat, the muscle Amazon gave her mightiest, most powerful roar—“ROOOOOAAARRR…!!!”—and the entire fucking gym, even the nearby buildings and streets, trembled like an earthquake. That woman was so inhumanly powerful that the barbel—designed to support great amounts of weight and pressure—was being permanently bent in the middle, forming an arc of metal in her hands.
She laid the weights down and flexed her muscles. “FUCK!! I’M SO FUCKING PUMPED!!” I heard many gasps and moans over the gym, with many a man excusing themselves to the bathroom with their hands over their crotches. Even the guy by my side was shaking and moaning like a bitch in heat, his right hand trembling in his crotch, almost grabbing and pumping his generous bulge right then and there.
I mean, could I condemn them for that? No fucking way. In fact, upon seeing her flex, I understood their arousal quite perfectly, even though I’d always seen myself as a very straight, even girlish woman: she was a marvel of sex and power! When I saw her biceps, my face flustered a little. She was ungodly huge, with arms at least twice as big as my biggest boyfriend. Her biceps bloated and vibrated like a heated sphere of iron, or a large steam tank about to explode—yet that thing would never break, never yield, for it had been designed since birth to hold enough energy to power an entire metropolis… and then some!
The huge vein along the curve of her biceps throbbed like a heart. I swear my eyes doubled in size once I caught a sight of that thing. It was huge, and certainly it wasn’t along: her whole body, as far as I could see, was covered with thick, sprawling veins, enough to power a whole herd of virile bulls—yet, in her body, even that ludicrous amount of veins didn’t seem enough.
The goddess flexed again, this time letting the energy flow all over her physique: “YEEEE-AAAAAHHH!!!” Walls shook and windows creaked as her body appeared to increase in size, her massive arms throbbing and her unbelievable, horse-thick legs bulging so hard the pressure between her inner thighs would certainly be enough to burst a bowling ball into dust. The ground under her (massive) feet started to cave in, and all the floor began to cave as she distorted it just like a heavy object would a spring bed. Was she putting on weight as she flexed??