Written by HikerAngel :: [Friday, 07 May 2021 20:48] Last updated by :: [Saturday, 01 May 2021 21:53]
Commissioned by FfejL
Written by HikerAngel
Edited by Au Goose
As Fiona took the stage, an audible gasp rippled through the audience. The startled sound was quickly followed by absolute silence. Every eye converged on the stage, dazzled by the sight of the most perfect physique any of them had ever witnessed.
Fiona’s assured smile grew wider as she glided to the center of the stage sheathed in nothing but a skimpy bikini. These bodybuilders and their fans were about to see absolute perfection for the first time. Unlike her so-called ‘competitors’, she required no makeup or hair products. She didn’t need them. Her looks were all-natural, easily the equal of even the most gorgeous of covermodels – after they had been photoshopped. She hadn’t bothered with changes to her salt intake, hydration or any other preparation techniques going on backstage, either. With musculature far denser, far larger, and far more defined than any of her competition, Fiona simply had no need for any of those sorts of tricks. She just walked onto the stage as she appeared on any given day...
A lush mane of shimmering brown hair was pulled up into a thick ponytail to keep its long length from obstructing the judges’ view of her broad shoulders and beautifully developed upper back. Her eyes had an Asian almond shape but their large size and viridian irises made it clear that her heritage was not Asian alone. Her naturally caramel skin and delicate facial features made her ethnicity indeterminate, combining a variety of cues to give her an exotic, multiracial appearance that only seemed to enhance her stunning looks.
But as heartbreakingly gorgeous as Fiona’s visage was, her body was even more staggeringly exquisite. Massive but sleek, impossibly strong, yet still deliciously curvaceous, her sculpted form was a masterwork of feminine power.
Thick, sinuous cords of muscle wound through her mighty physique, gracefully flowing through her divine form with leonine elegance. Every movement of her magnificent body caused an explosion of breathtakingly sculpted swells and ridges in her arms, legs, and core. Just crossing the stage displayed such staggering levels of definition that it was as if every individual muscle fiber were visible as they tightened and relaxed under her flawless skin.
“She’s even bigger than the men!” a voice from the audience broke the deafening silence, even hushed, as it was, in utter awe.
Fiona’s luminous eyes twinkled with incandescent delight. It was true. No man had a physique that could match up with hers. Not on this stage. Not anywhere. As if to drive home the point, she raised both arms and flexed. Her biceps exploded upward. They were massive, completely dwarfing those of even the most bulky heavyweight male competitors.
She turned, her back rippling into smooth hills and sculpted valleys that could make a topographic map of the Himalayas look like a plate of over-cooked pasta. Her shoulders displayed striation that left those before her shaking their heads in amazement. As she brought her arms down, her triceps clenched into perfect horseshoes, quivering with feminine might.
As a second ripple of gasps worked its way through the audience, she turned again, her calves hardening into curves of steel as she spun on her heel. Facing the audience head on, her chest tightened into absolute steel as she brought her arms before her, her breasts surging forward, threatening to burst the tiny bikini top that had already been struggling to contain them.
She extended her huge arms outward before clenching down on her abs. Steel-hard swells of muscle contracted into a shockingly cobbled network of chiseled grooves and deeply carved trenches. The jagged edges of her deeply engraved obliques looked like plates of armor running along each side of her sculpted center.
Her broad shoulders, absurdly developed lats, and miniscule waist made her upper body look like an inverted triangle, only the insane definition of her core keeping the massive, densely packed muscles of her arms, back, and chest from looking as if they should bend her over with their prodigious mass.
“Good God! Look at those abs!” the whispered statement from someone in the front row. The words carried in the silence like the first lines of a prayer, one that set all heads in the auditorium nodding in solemn agreement. Fiona smirked at the raw wonder in the man’s voice.
The inexorable tide of her movements shifted to her lower body, twisting each leg outward in turn, flexing the muscles in her quads and hamstrings into iron relief as they expanded outward, each layer of muscle in their trunklike columns edged by deep channels of quivering power.
The tightening, expanding might of her diamond-shaped calves made her knees look tiny in comparison to the heavy musculature that fanned out both above and below them. This woman’s body packed on more deliciously sculpted sinew than anyone in the room had ever seen – and this was an audience accustomed to witnessing the most beautifully developed bodies on earth.
Giving the faithful one last full-body flex, Fiona had to suppress a small laugh as no less than four men collapsed, their knees giving out merely from watching her breathtaking display of physical perfection. She twirled gracefully, a broad smile on her lips, then stalked offstage without ceremony, sending the audience into a churning flurry of shocked exclamations as they struggled to make sense of what they had just seen.
As she strode through the backstage area, she watched several of the male competitors ogle her out of the corner of her eye. She smiled, knowing that her victory was never in doubt, but the Men’s champion might be deserving a very special congratulations from her after the competition ended.
She wouldn’t have to wait long. A few hours later, a voice crackled over the speakers in the auditorium announcing she and a man named John Jameson as the winners. Returning to the stage, Fiona gave the man a once over. He was deliciously built and looked quite strong, though it was clear that he was no competition for her.
The two exchanged a glance, John’s eyes boyishly astonished, Fiona’s eyes deeply predatory, just before they both flexed. Fiona looked over at the huge, well-built man, his beefy biceps, bulging pecs, succulently striated quads, and cobbled abs trembling with effort as the man attempted to pump his body into something that might match hers. But it was useless. His physique was phenomenal, but Fiona was absolute perfection.
Not a single eye lingered on John as Fiona struck a pose of her own, dwarfing the man in size, outdueling his nearly perfect symmetry, and absolutely burying him with her unthinkable level of definition.
As the two left the stage after the ceremony, Mr. and Ms. Olympia medals dangling from their necks to bounce from their chiseled bodies with each step, Fiona placed a massive arm around John’s heavily muscled back and bowling-ball sized shoulders. She squeezed him to her, forcing his lips into a grimace as she turned to look at her, his eyes wide at her display of power.
“Women’s bathroom. Five minutes,” she whispered, giving him a flirtatious wink.
He was there to meet her in three.
She pulled him inside, slamming the door shut with a powerful arm, twisting closed the lock as she enveloped him in the tight embrace of her iron-hard arms, feeling a burst of air on her face as she emptied his lungs. She enjoyed the feel of the steely slopes of his broad chest as they crushed her massive breasts, the touch of his strong hands as they traced the smooth muscles of her perfect back.
Their lips met, tongues twirling together in passion as the two most deliciously developed physiques on the planet came together with a slap of impossibly firm flesh.
“How… are you… so strong?” asked John between kisses as he devoured her mouth hungrily. “Steroids?”
Fiona scoffed, pulling her mouth from his and raising her chin to give him access to nibble on her thick neck. “No one gets to my level with steroids. Just good genes.”
“I’ll say,” he said, moving his mouth lower to lick the hollow of her collarbone. His hard biceps snaked down her wing-like lats until his fingers slid into the two-inch deep grooves between each of her ultra-defined abs.
Fiona felt John’s gasp of heated breath on the skin of her upper chest as he felt her stomach. “The kind of development you have… it’s… it’s impossible!”
“For you, maybe,” Fiona smirked, slithering her long fingers through his hair to force his head down the upper slopes of her immense breasts. He began to kiss them desperately. “But not for me…”
“Are these natural?” he asked, his fingers rising to squeeze Fiona’s breasts.
“Of course!” she replied, shoving his head between them.
“But you have almost no body fat!” his muffled voice rose from the depths of her cleavage.
“True…” Fiona grabbed him by the back of the neck, flinging him across the small room with such force that his deliciously muscled ass cracked the tile.
“Geez, lady! You like it rough, huh?”
Fire lighting her eyes, she gazed into his dilating pupils, taking a step forward. “Only the guys who can’t handle it think so....”
She took another step. “...but, you’re sooo strong aren’t you?”
John puffed out his chest. “Of course I am!”
“Strong enough to handle me?” She took another step forward.
“Of course I am!” he said, his huge biceps twitching.
Fiona stopped just before she reached them, slithering her fingers over his until their hands were interlaced.
John arched an eyebrow. “What’s this all about?”
“Overpower me,” Fiona purred, licking her lips, clearly aroused.
John gave a nervous laugh, his gaze dropping to watch her enormous arms tense, the woman’s muscles rippling with power. But he steadied himself, set his feet, and clenched her hands in his.
John’s upper arms swelled as blood flowed freely into his clenching muscles. He pushed forward, determined to show this woman just how strong he was.
Her arms grew taut and pumped but didn’t move.
John pushed harder, grunting with the effort.
Still, she didn’t budge.
Leaning forward, he threw his full body weight into it, the immense, sculpted slabs of rounded, masculine sinew gave everything they had. Fiona’s arms began to quiver slightly with the effort of holding him back. Her eyebrow rose with approval but he still couldn‘t move her back so much as an inch.
She looked over his flexing chest, his chiseled abs, the veins throbbing in his arms as he poured his maximum effort into overpowering her, and her mouth began to water at the thought of sex with the most perfect male specimen on earth. On her terms.
“How can you be this strong?” John asked, his huge member beginning to rise, it’s thick length easily visible in the tiny swimsuit he wore. “A woman!”
Fiona decided to show this man her full strength, finding the idea of completely outclassing the confident male’s strength irresistibly arousing. She tightened her grip on his hands, smirking as she watched the tendons in his neck grow taut, his mouth grimacing in pain. Then, she began to push him back. Her progress was slow at first, but her momentum built as she overpowered the massive man with increasing ease.
The carved ridges and steely swells of his perfect, masculine form bulged and shook, but the newly crowned Mr. Olympia, built as he was, was no match for her raw power. His elbows smashed into the wall behind him, each cracking a tile as they accelerated backward with the incredible force Fiona was generating. John hissed in pain, but Fiona’s eyes only flashed with the satisfaction of overpowering the poor man. She was only getting started.
“Your power! It’s insane!” John managed, his breathing becoming shallow with arousal. His erection was in full force, stretching his swimsuit nearly to the point where it strained the material to near bursting. Never had he felt a body like hers. It was as if she were made of warm, living steel.
She continued to shove his arms back, and they rotated outward until the backs of his hands crunched into the wall just as his elbows had. His heavily sinewed arms extended to either side of his body, the woman’s magnificent arms pinning him helplessly to the wall. He writhed against the bathroom wall but had no leverage now – not that it had mattered when he did. She was clearly far stronger than he was.
“You are pretty strong, John,” Fiona breathed huskily, her lips less than an inch from his. She could feel his whimpering breath on her mouth. “But no one is as strong as me.”
She plunged her tongue between his lips, crushing her huge breasts against the hard muscles of his broad chest. She was as tall as his 6’4”, but her hips came to his stomach, courtesy of her gorgeously long legs. She broke their kiss, leaving John breathless and panting with desire as she bent her knees to align the deeply carved groove between her perfect abs with his quivering cock.
Fiona undulated her hips, rolling her sculpted torso into the man’s huge erection. As his tip pressed against the warm cobbles of her abs, it ripped through the thin swimsuit fabric that had been struggling to contain it before sliding into the deep vertical trench of her rock-hard stomach.
He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy as shockingly powerful jolts electric pleasure shorted out his desire-addled mind from the violently erotic contact with her perfect body. Fiona straightened slowly, grinding his massive member against her rippling stomach as she made waves with her abdomen, her steely muscles clenching and releasing against his throbbing shaft.
John gasped, and Fiona knew his climax was already near. She was accustomed to causing such rapid orgasms in her sexual partners. She knew that she could create a sexual experience that was completely overwhelming for even the most physically gifted of her partners.
She knew it. She loved it.
She pressed her hips into him, rising to her full height, dragging his penis over the impossibly defined ridges of her magnificent abs. It was too much for him to withstand, just as she’d known it would be.
He exploded, his mammoth cock blasting hot, viscous fluid all over her stomach.
Fiona continued to milk him, not stopping her undulating motions, enjoying the feel of his powerful-but-helpless body against hers as it grew taut and spasmed with orgasmic pleasure.
“Omigod, omigod, OH MY GOD!!!” he cried as he thrust his hips into her unyielding body over and over for a solid minute of breathtakingly powerful climaxes.
Finally, however, it ended, his muscular body going limp, knees giving out. Fiona continued to hold him against the wall with both hands, her deliciously sculpted muscles drawing tight with the increased effort that supporting his full weight in this way necessitated.
“Did you like that, John?” Fiona asked, her voice a throaty purr. “Do you like the feel of my body?”
“God, yes,” he said, breathing heavily. “I can’t believe I came that hard without even being inside you.”
The corners of Fiona’s succulent lips twitched upward to form a sly smile. “You aren’t ready to enter me yet. That will come later. After you’re better prepared. You need to learn the lay of the land first...”
John met her gaze with wide, awestruck eyes, his legs still trembling in the aftermath of the most powerful climax of his life. Fiona smirked, knowing that the poor man had been overwhelmed simply from the sensual contact with her ripped stomach.
“But first,” she continued, her smile widening to Cheshire proportions. “It’s my turn.”
Fiona released him, and John fell forward, his limp body collapsing. His face landed right between the upper slopes of her massive breasts. His hands rose in a belated attempt to catch his fall, landing just above her smooth hips to clutch at obliques that felt like plates of armor on each side of her slender waist.
“Christ!” he exclaimed, his voice muffled by her lush breasts. “Every part of you feels like it’s made of iron!”
Fiona laughed, stepping back to let John fall to his knees before her, his legs still too jellylike to support his weight after his long, staggeringly powerful climax. His mouth came to rest against her still-sticky abs. As he pushed against her body with his trembling hands, Fiona reached down, dipping her index finger in the residue of his orgasm. Looking down on him from far above, she watched his eyes follow her slowly ascending fingertip until it met her luscious lips.
She inserted it into her mouth, swirling her tongue over it as she closed her eyes, luxuriating in the salty taste of her latest sexual conquest. A moment later, her long lashes fluttered open, and she smiled, amused at the hungry look in John’s eyes as he stared up at her.
“Make me come” she ordered softly, knowing that she didn’t need to be very forceful. He would want to pleasure her. Hell, he’d probably be desperate to do it. They usually were.
Reaching one finger under the string in the center of her bikini, she pressed it outward. The slender length of fabric on her fingertip drew taut before it snapped and fell away. Her other hand slid down the silky skin of her rounded hip before curling around the string of her bottoms to tear it free as well.
Her naked body fully revealed to the man, Fiona stepped forward once again, slithering her fingers through his thick hair before curling them into a fist. Closing her grip on his hair, she pulled his head forward until his forehead collided with her steely lower abdomen. Warm breath heated her nether regions as his lips touched her sex.
John knew exactly what she wanted, and the man was all too eager to oblige.
Fiona felt his hot, wet tongue push outward from between his lips to probe her. It glided over her slit, causing her to shudder in anticipation. She could already tell he was going to be good, his licking slow but forceful, just the way she liked it.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned as he repositioned his hands over the spherical cheeks of her breathtakingly developed glutes and thrust his tongue into her nether regions until his chin thumped against her hard body. “More…”
She felt his lips curl into a smile against her lower abdomen, its contact with her sensitive flesh causing a wave of goosebumps to wash over her perfect skin. John wriggled his tongue inside her, the vibrations sending ripples of pleasure radiating into her womb.
“Oh God,” she breathed huskily. “More…”
She felt John shift on his knees, his fingers tightening as they pressed into her firm, luscious ass. His tongue rose upward within her, moisture dribbling down the deep grooves that lined the muscle in her inner thighs, until he found the top of her canal. He pushed deeper into her until the front of his teeth ground against her engorged clit.
“Yes!” Fiona hissed, feeling the inner muscles of her ridiculously strong core pulling tight with dizzying waves of arousal. “More…”
John drew languidly outward before thrusting forcefully into her, his tongue extending to reach as deeply into her depths as it could. Fiona felt heat build in her body with his efforts, electricity crackling through her as his teeth nipped at her clit.
“Uhhhgaaaawd,” she breathed shakily, feeling her huge muscles flexing as her inside began to quiver.
John did it again, his tongue flowing outward before jabbing back into her, this time swirling over her clit again and again. Fiona’s abs clenched, a web of dense muscle exploding over her midsection as her lips began to tremble.
John knew exactly what to do. He reversed direction, his tongue giving one last counterclockwise swirl, then bit down.
Fiona’s world exploded in rapture.
Her toes curled, her perfect physique shook with the first in a series of powerful convulsions, and she screamed. ‘YEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!”
If anyone outside hadn’t figured out what was going on beyond the jammed bathroom door before, they had to know now.
Fiona’s hips bucked forward, knocking John backward, his head cracking the tile on the wall as he slumped, dazed, to the ground. She reached out to a nearby counter to steady herself as her knees gave out, thankful that she was strong enough to hold herself upright with a single overdeveloped tricep.
She felt wave after wave of pleasure roll through her perfect body until her muscles clenched in one, final orgasmic tremor.
John rose shakily to his feet, and Fiona wrapped a massive arm around his chiseled torso. She pulled him in, strength returning to her lower body as she stood tall once more. She lowered a hand, drifting her fingers over his cobbled stomach to rest it on his cock. She squeezed it gently, massaging his massive member with her fingers, teasing it back to life in spite of his extremely recent orgasm. John’s eager lips found hers and the pair kissed deeply. Fiona snaked her hands over John’s rippling back, digging her fingers into his tight body hard enough to elicit a gasp from the man.
She pulled his muscular body toward her, brushing her lips over his cheek until they arrived at his ear. “Now, you get to be inside me,” she whispered before giving its lobe a playful nip.
She pushed onto her tiptoes, using her hand to guide him to her entrance, then dropped back onto her heels. Her long, heavily sinewed thighs tensed as his tip pushed into her, and she felt his hot, shuddering breath on her neck as she mounted him.
John thrust into her, and Fiona wrapped her legs around him, causing him to stagger backward to the wall again under the weight of her immense body.
“Fuck me, John!” Fiona breathed, her hungry lips and brilliantly white teeth working their way down his neck. “Fuck me as hard as you can!”
Fiona’s glutes tensed, her legs curling around the sculpted man’s muscled hips, flexing powerfully to force him more deeply into her.
“Oh, God!” he screamed as her hands found his ass and pulled, grinding his thick member into her body, causing his huge cock to penetrate her as far as he possibly could.
He climaxed again, his body shaking badly, as if he were having a seizure. He pulsed and spasmed, until he collapsed again, dropping beneath her as her legs released him, her feet hitting the tiled floor to either side.
She reached down, pulling his panting lips to hers, and gave him another achingly deep kiss before lifting his limp body before her with a single arm, his feet dangling six inches off the ground. The immense muscles of her powerful arm trembled with the effort of holding nearly three hundred pounds of masculine muscle in the air like this.
“My God,” he said. “I’ve never felt anything like it…”
Fiona smirked. “Oh, John, we’re just getting to the good part…”
The huge man swallowed hard, his eyes looking at once fearful and hopeful before she proceeded to ravish him into a sexual oblivion.
Thirty minutes later, Fiona flipped open the lock of the bathroom door and walked out of the bathroom, completely nude, wiping her inner thighs with the remnants of her swimsuit as she walked naked back to her locker, past a number of other contestants. She simply grinned as she walked past their awestruck faces.
John still lay on the bathroom floor, delirious from a dizzying mix of exhaustion and ecstasy, still twitching with the aftereffects of his sixth orgasm after the most amazing sex he would ever have.
Fresh off her sexual conquest of the world’s most perfect male body, Fiona drove straight to tonight’s paid engagement. He was rich, of course. They all were. Had to be, at her rates. $100,000 per night was her usual fee, but she had no difficulty finding takers. Even a single night alone with the most perfect human body ever to have existed was worth it for those who had the resources.
Fiona smiled, her full lips parting to reveal perfect, brilliantly white teeth. This particular client was a big spender. He’d already racked up invoices of nearly $3 million, and his requests for sessions only grew more frequent. Her special brand of pleasure was particularly addictive for her clients. No one who experienced a night with her had failed to request a second experience. Ever.
She gave a knowing wink to the gate guard as she pulled into his driveway. Pulling through the large turn around in front of the mansion, she sprang from the sleek sports car with a rippling flex of her massive quads. Her calves clenching into sleekly curved balls of steel, courtesy of her four-inch heels, she strode to his camera-monitored door. Not bothering to knock, she simply extended an arm, beautifully carved triceps popping, and slammed it with the heel of her palm to send it flying open.
Stan loved it when she did that. Her phenomenal strength always drove him wild. Smirking, she continued forward, crossing the threshold into his home without ever breaking stride.
Stan, sitting on the sofa inside the living room jumped up in startled awe as Fiona entered the room with a twinkle in her dark, almond-shaped eyes.
“Stan, we’re going to try a new game tonight. I’m in the mood for something wild.” Fiona gave her wealthy client a daringly flirtatious wink.
“Wilder than last time?” he asked, his eyes wide in incredulity as they roamed the deliciously carved swells and valleys of her massive body.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, her voice coming out in a low, throaty purr. She was already unzipping her tight bodysuit past her prodigious breasts to reveal the impossibly firm bricks of her upper abs. “This time, you have to lick every inch of my body before your third orgasm.”
His tongue flicked out to moisten his lips as a sheen of hunger crept over his eyes. “I’ll try,” he said, voice already quavering with arousal as he drank in the perfection that was her body.
Fiona continued to pull down the zipper until it came to her rippling lower abdomen. Smiling at her client’s salivating reaction, she peeled the clingy bodysuit from the iron curves of her sculpted arms with slow, graceful movements.
As she stepped out of the legs of her garment and tossed it aside, her sleek body now clad in nothing but her sexy stilettos, she extended an arm outward from her side and flexed it. A huge bicep exploded upward, so unbelievably defined that it seemed each individual fiber was detectable under her smooth, tanned skin.
Stan absolutely quivered with anticipation, swallowing hard, his eyes completely entranced by her display.
“C-can we arm wrestle?” he breathed, his tone hopeful.
“Of course,” said Fiona, her voice sultry as she lowered her arm, pulled out a chair and sat down at the nearby table.
Stan glided toward her on jelly-like legs as she set her left elbow on the table, the huge muscles in her arm twitching as she positioned it on the hard surface. He didn’t sit down across from her, however, instead standing by the edge of the table.
“Ready?” she asked with a sly smile, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“Oh, yes,” he replied, licking his lips in anticipation. He reached out with both hands, gripping her small hand in both of his before leaning backwards with his entire bodyweight.
Fiona’s arm barely tensed, a dramatic current of striations snaking under her flawless skin as she held the smaller man’s entire body weight with a single arm.
Stan leaned even harder into the pull, straining with all his might. But Fiona was too powerful. With a knowing smirk, she suddenly pulled her hand forward, flinging Stan face-first onto the table as her hand slapped down upon its surface with a thunderous clap.
He rolled over, panting with unbridled lust, as Fiona mounted the table. Her impossibly strong silhouette hovered over him like a thunderstorm in human form, her triceps bulging as she lowered her mouth to his trembling lips. She felt the rush of air over her tongue as he breathed his pent-up desire into her soft lips.
Fiona rolled her hips forward, touching them lightly to Stan’s taut erection. But even the light brush with her tightly muscled lower abdomen was enough to send him over the edge. His body clenched and spasmed, his rigid cock pulsing into his pants.
“That’s one,” Fiona said breaking the kiss with a knowing grin. “Two to go.”
Stan’s eyes were squeezed shut, the smaller man overwhelmed by the staggering power of his orgasm. It took him a moment to crack his eyelids a sliver and reply in a barely audible whisper. “Fuck, Fiona! How do you do that?”
Fiona shrugged, her overdeveloped trapezius muscles nearly touching her ears. Her perfumed hair drifted to either side of the man, its scent seeming to give Stan another sensual rush as he breathed it in. Fiona gazed at the man affectionately, her massive arms still supporting her weight over his calming body.
Fiona crawled backward until her knees reached the edge of the table, then she hopped off, the lithe grace she displayed belying the weight of her heavily muscled frame. She turned as Stan raised his head, still prone on the table, to watch her. Fiona gave him a show, tensing the dramatic hemispheres of her sculpted glutes to make them burst into an even greater level of steely firmness.
“Christ, Fi! Your body looks even more perfect than last time!”
She turned her head, her voluminous mane of shimmering chestnut fanning over the flawless brown flesh of her soccer-ball sized shoulder. “I’ve been working out,” she said with a wink of her insanely long lashes.
She reached the far side of the room, next to the sofa, then turned, curling her index finger inward.
Stan knew that invitation. He lived for it. The billionaire tycoon scrambled off the dining room table and bounded for her like an eager puppy, still desperate for her powerful body despite his nearly instantaneous climax after she had overpowered him with such ease.
“Easy, boy,” Fiona said as he arrived, his trembling hands ascending the massive slopes of her breasts.
He ignored her advice, pressing his face into her buxom cleavage.
Fiona slithered her fingers through his graying hair and began to push his head downward and inward, grinding it into her firm, perfect breasts on its way to her sternum. Stan’s tongue flicked out to taste her tanned skin, swirling her nipples to send a jolt of sensation through his statuesque escort.
As she continued to press his head down her body, he ran his lips over her steely muscles, slithering his tongue into the deeply carved grooves that lined her bricklike abs.
She felt his shuddering breath on her iron stomach, knowing that his second orgasm was already on the way. The man would never make it all the way over her body before he reached his third climax. He never did. But men like him needed goals to shoot for.
Fiona touched the back of his head, pushing it into her rock-hard body until his chin slapped against her breathtakingly sculpted tummy. He moaned with desire, running one hand over the sheath-like muscle over her carved obliques while dropping the other hand to his rigid member.
He fingered himself as he tasted her, climaxing a few seconds later.
“Aw, Stan,” Fiona chided playfully. “That was awfully quick. You’re coming up on that three-orgasm limit pretty fast…”
He couldn’t answer, lost in the throes of a second, even more powerful climax. He dropped to his knees with a breathy groan.
“Why don’t you try to move my legs? You know how that always gets you all hot and bothered,” said Fiona as Stan huffed and puffed a second orgasmic aftermath.
Stan looked up at her from his kneeling position, his eyes dazed as he attempted to process her words. Once he did, however, excitement filled his delighted eyes. He wrapped his arms around her trunklike quad, feeling her thick, snakelike muscles tighten under his slim biceps.
Running his tongue down her lower abdomen, nearing her folds, he tugged her leg forward. It didn’t move.
Pulling his mouth from her torso, he got more serious about his efforts, tensing his arms to try again.
“Give up yet?” Fiona looked down at Stan.
He didn’t answer. His eyes were shut, and he was straining against her with all his might. She tightened her muscles, the dense tissue of her quad exploding with taut cables of steely sinew. Even the valleys between the rigid cords seemed completely unyielding to Stan’s touch.
“How about now?” she asked with a mischievous grin.
“Fuck!” The word erupted from his lips as he released his held breath. He slumped to the floor, utterly spent despite not having moved her leg an inch.
Fiona smiled, hauling him off his feet before her with a single arm. His cock was already rising a third time.
Smirking, she hugged him to her, sliding his member between her folds. His quivering erection ground against her interior musculature as it clamped down all around him, making him shudder with the ascending ecstasy.
Her fingers closing over his small waist with immovable strength, she pulled his hips into her massive body, tightening the muscles that lined her hot, moist canal until they crushed into his length from all sides.
He was desperate for release but her inner muscles pressed against him so tightly that he couldn’t climax. Before he could pivot his hips to try again she grabbed his buttocks and forced him inches deeper inside her.
“Uhhhh, please?” He begged her.
“That’s three,” she purred, finally relaxing her steely muscles…
Stan screamed as his body spasmed into her steamy darkness, fireworks exploding in his vision. Electrified by the feel of her warm, sweet juices as splashed over his rock-hard member, his climax was breathtaking. Savagely powerful blasts of utter rapture convulsed his limp form as she held him inside her, the pulsating force of her heartbeat bringing him to the most powerful orgasm he had ever experienced.
The poor man lost consciousness still inside her. Fiona pulled his battered cock from her body with a soft, wet pop, and lay him gently on the couch. He gave a whimpering moan before his lips fell into a pattern of quiet, shallow breathing.
Fiona looked down on her exhausted client, her eyes warm with affection. He would never manage to touch her entire body before climaxing three times. But that was fine. She was quite sure he had enjoyed himself. Her lips thinning in a satisfied smile, she strode toward the bathroom to shower before going to bed herself.
“Nine million?” Stan asked before shoving a forkful of eggs between his lips. His adoring eyes looked desperate.
Fiona smiled but shook her head at her client before taking a sip of morning coffee.
“Okay. Ten million dollars just to stop seeing anyone but me!” he proposed, cocking his head to the side as he chewed, his eyes dancing with expectation.
“I’m so sorry, Stan, it’s not about the money. I enjoy what I do.” Fiona winked coyly. “I’m not giving up any of my clients. Not you. Not them.”
Stan lowered his eyes, sighed resignedly, then returned his gaze to meet hers, his expression becoming strangely earnest. “Marry me then.”
Fiona’s eyes grew wide in shock, and she choked on her hot drink. He had proposed an exclusive arrangement with her many times before, but never this!
“Don’t be absurd, Stan!” she gasped, wiping at her eyes as she recovered.
He looked crestfallen but gave her a resigned nod. “Fine, fine. It was worth a try…”
Fiona reached out to pat his hand reassuringly before rising to her full, statuesque height, a smirk curling at the edges of her full lips. “I will see you next month, though.”
He brightened at her words, flashing her a beaming smile as she left his home.
Fiona drove to a nearby branch of a rather exclusive gym where she was a member, wanting to squeeze in a quick workout before she caught her flight home.
She changed into an overmatched sports bra and tiny shorts that left nearly the entirety of her ridiculously ridged arms and thighs bare before strolling into the free weights area. Two beefy men were taking turns at the bench press station, spotting each other.
“Dude!” Bernie said, nudging Bob on the shoulder, nearly causing him to topple sideways over the weight bench in the process. “Holy shit. I think that’s her. The new Ms. Olympia champion! Twelve o’clock!”
His bulging pecs and cobbled abs tensing, Bob used his powerful core to steady the weight without rolling off the bench. Barely. He set it back on the rack and turned to his friend in exasperation. “That’s six o’clock for me, dumbass. And you just about made me drop the fucking bar, dude!”
“Whatever, man. Just look!”
His eyes bulged, his eyebrows rising in disbelief as his mouth dropped open.
The largest woman either of them had ever seen approached with a confident stride that was as graceful as it was powerful, her impressive physique somehow maintaining a sleek smoothness while at the same time so defined that it might as well have been sculpted by a Greek master. Full breasts dominated her upper body, defying gravity even as they were compressed by the swing of her arms in a warmup motion. Massive swaths of sinew rippled the length of her body as she moved, even the tiniest of muscles developed into perfect relief on her magnificent form. Her tiny, tight shorts and sports bra covered little more than a bikini would have, every inch of the hulking body that the skimpy outfit held on jaw-dropping display completely flawless.
“Hi, there,” an instantly infatuated Bernie said, a crooked grin lifting one side of his tanned, handsome face. “Need a spotter?”
“I don’t need spotters,” said Fiona, a mischievous twinkle lighting her exotic eyes.
“Well, okay then,” said Bob, giving her a curious look. He circled the weight bench to begin taking off some of the weight he had just been lifting. “How much weight do you do?”
Fiona considered, tapping a finger to her perfect lips. “Why don’t you double what you had on there. I could use a warm-up.”
“Ha! Yeah,” Bob laughed, beginning to pull an aged iron plate off the heavy bar.
Fiona frowned, her gaze so intense it was penetrating. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
Bob paused to give her an incredulous look, taken aback by the way she was looking at him. The woman actually looked serious. Dead serious. Becoming nervous, he gave Bernie an uncertain look, but the other man merely shrugged his beefy shoulders, looking a bit frightened himself. “If she wants to try crazy amounts of weight, then let her, Bobbie. She won’t get it off the rack, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Fiona took two steps toward Bob, her eyes never leaving his. He began to fidget as she neared, his gaze rising to meet hers. His lip quivered slightly as her dominating shadow loomed over him. Fiona reached down, placing her fingers on the top of the plate Bob held in his trembling fingers, sliding it slowly back onto the bar. Bob let go of the plate, backing away as she grabbed four more plates and loaded them onto the bar.
“That’s 405 lbs!” Bob gasped, counting the plates, looking conflicted, as if he didn’t know whether to kneel in worship before the woman or laugh at her.
“Yeah,” Fiona replied, deadpan. “Like I said. A warm-up.”
She took a seat on the bench, leaning backward to lay down under the heavily weighted bar.
“She can’t possibly lift that. Can she?” gasped Bob, glancing at Bernie for confirmation. His friend, however, simply stared in wonder at the woman as she tightened her grip on the worn iron cylinder.
Fiona pushed the bar off the rack and lowered it to her prodigious chest in a graceful motion before engaging in a series of smooth repetitions, breathing out forcefully with every upward thrust.
“Want… to push down... on it a bit? Make it... a little more... challenging?” Fiona asked Bob between breaths. “It won’t… matter much… but it might… at least give me… a pump that way.”
“Push down?” Bob asked, his voice quavering slightly as he watched the woman press more than his maximum weight in endless repetitions with seeming ease. “Seriously?”
“Now!” Fiona ordered, her tone making it clear that there would be no choice in the matter.
Swallowing hard, feeling an erection tent his gym shorts as he began to realize just how strong this woman was, Bob did as she commanded. He moved into a spotting position and placed his hands on the bar, leaning forward to add at least another hundred pounds of pressure to the bar.
Fiona continued moving the bar up and down as if he hadn’t even done anything. “More.”
Bob leaned forward further, pressing up on his toes to add more of his weight to the bar.
Bob, looking fearfully down into Fiona’s determined eyes, mantled onto the bar, his beefy triceps bulging as he lifted himself completely off the ground, bending his knees so that his feet no longer touched the ground. His entire body weight was added to the 405 pounds the woman was lifting.
This time, Fiona’s pistoning arms slowed slightly, though they still continued to move the weight with relative ease. It wasn’t until she neared thirty reps that she began to slow, her sculpted, bulging arms beginning to tremble with the effort. Still, she made it to thirty before racking the weight, leaving the astonished pair of wide-eyed bodybuilders completely speechless.
“Your turn,” Fiona said to Bernie, stabbing a finger pointedly into his chest.
The man nodded dumbly as she took his trembling hand in an iron grip, the man still in shock after what he had just seen her do.
Fiona smiled, then proceeded to the pull-up bar. She hopped up, grabbing the bar with ease, shifting her hips as she dangled in order to set her grip. She turned to Bernie, her lush, silken tresses fanning over her soccer-ball sized shoulder as she spoke.
“Now wrap your arms around my waist, just above my hip,” she ordered, her massive shoulders and triceps swelling to impossible levels of both mass and definition after her “warm-up” on the bench press. “Once you have good grip, lift up your feet, so that I get your full body weight – if you’re strong enough to hang on.”
Bernie did a double take, his mouth going dry as his eyes involuntarily explored her staggeringly perfect body. Was this girl going to do a dead hang with his entire body weight added to hers? She was clearly strong, but good luck with that! She wouldn’t last five seconds trying to grip that bar with their combined 500+ pounds of muscle pulling her downward!
He wrapped his huge arms around her impossibly cut waist, feeling her abs slither like pythons within her lean body as she balanced to counter the swing of his 250-pound weight. Bernie was used to feeling muscles, his own well-developed body a source of pride after ten years and countless hours honing his physique in the gym. But the iron hardness of her abdomen, the smoothly sloped steel of her flaring hips – the girl’s body was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Her rock-hard sinew made his own weight-hardened physique feel soft in comparison.
He lifted his feet from the floor, feeling his entire body weight tug her toward the ground. Then, amazingly, she pulled her chin to the bar.
“You’re doing pull-ups? With my body weight on top of yours?” Bernie gasped as she lowered herself, sucking in a lungful of her floral scent.
“That’s right,” Fiona said, raising her chin to the bar a second time. “You looked like decent ballast. And I needed something to give me at least a bit of a challenge.”
She lowered herself, then rose again, repeating the process ten more times before disengaging a single hand from the bar.
To Bernie’s complete and utter shock, Fiona wasn’t finished. Her body trembling with the effort, the muscles in her long arm surging with unbelievable power, the young woman did five single-handed pull-ups before switching arms for another five!
“Th-that’s impossible!” Bernie stammered as she finished, dropping from her hyper-muscular, now fully-pumped body with wonder in his bedazzled eyes. “No one is that strong.”
Bob, still at the bench press, staggered, falling to the weight bench with a surprised “oomph” as his knees gave out entirely.
“Oh, I assure you,” said Fiona with a broad smile, her huge breasts so firm that they barely bounced as she flounced over to the squat rack. “I am that strong.”
She loaded every weight that could possibly fit on the bar, then hefted it onto her broad, brawny shoulders, the iron pole bowing slightly under the prodigious poundage. She bent her knees, lowering her perfect glutes nearly to the floor before ascending upward, shattering every weight record in the gym on her first squat…
...before doing nineteen more.
Fiona continued her workout, breaking the weight records posted over every station, ensuring that the two men saw every inch of her luscious curves and unimaginably strong muscles as she exercised. By the time she was finished, she had the two ‘B-Boys’ painfully aroused and utterly speechless. Perfect. That was precisely how she liked her men. Hopelessly infatuated and completely overwhelmed.
“See you around, boys,” she said, pushing past them on her way to the showers, enjoying the competing looks of awe and lust in their eyes as they ogled her perfect body.
Bob and Bernie looked at one another, then back at her as she disappeared into the locker room.
“Fuck.” Bob grunted.
“No, man. Why the fuck didn’t I film that? No one’s gonna believe it.”
“Yeah. Maybe that’s for the best. I don’t want to look like a wimp.”
“Did you feel how hard her...?” Bob trailed off, his eyes growing dreamy.
“Yeah...” Bernie answered again, equally dazed.
“I wonder what lucky son of a bitch she goes home to at night?”
“Luckiest dude ever.”
“Moira? I’m home!” Fiona called as she opened the door to her lover’s house. She couldn’t wait to see her lover at long last. She had refrained from texting all day, hoping to surprise her with an earlier-than-expected return from her conquest of the Ms. Olympia competition and its area side trips.
But as she stepped inside, she stopped immediately. Her surprised eyes met the business end of a dozen automatic rifles – quite the unpleasant departure from the sight of the fit, shapely blonde she had been expecting. She looked down to see a number of small red dots jagging back and forth over the interior slope of her left breast.
As her gaze drifted back upward, taking the measure of each camouflage-clad man in Moira’s house, an older man in work-worn army fatigues and perfectly polished boots stepped forward, removing his cap and running his calloused fingers through his buzzed, graying hair.
“It’s good to see you, Fiona,” Colonel Doring said, conspicuously failing to offer his hand in greeting.
Fiona smirked at the intentional snub as her eyes darted about, searching for Moira within the ranks of the soldiers. The man knew what she could – and probably would – do to him if he did something as stupid as to offer her a hold on any part of his body.
“Where’s Moira?” she asked, her voice flat, betraying none of her concern for her absent love.
“Touching,” the Colonel said, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes tugging at the corners of his lips. “I thought you might be concerned for her.”
Fiona blanched inwardly. It had been stupid to betray her feelings by asking about Moira at all, however disguised her emotions might be. The Colonel had clearly been hoping to use her lover as leverage, and she had played right into his hands.
“She’s safe,” he continued, his eyes flashing coldly, never leaving Fiona’s even as he began to pace around her, rifles mechanically rising and falling to avoid targeting him. “Probably safer than she is with a rogue genetically engineered weapon. She will stay that way. Merely in our custody as a person of interest rather than standing trial for espionage and treason.
The colonel paused. “I’m not sure I like her chances in a trial, though. Conspiring to steal a critical military weapon system from a classified lab? Directly undermining national security isn’t the sort of thing that military tribunals look fondly upon. Never forget that I am the person preventing that.”
“How did you find me?” Fiona asked, deciding to change the subject from Moira, now that she at least knew that the woman was unhurt, knowing that he would only continue to escalate his threats to her girlfriend if she continued to be baited down that path.
“Ms. Olympia?” the Colonel smiled. “Did you really think we wouldn’t notice?”
Fiona cursed herself. Why on earth had she done that? Just to show off? To prove that she was better than everyone else? Stupid. She had clearly grown careless over the two years since she had escaped the cloning lab, her arrogance outweighing her sense of caution.
“You are government property,” he continued, again making a point he had hammered home every day she had spent in the government’s super-soldier cloning facility. “Even if Congress is completely unaware of your existence.”
The idea that she was considered “property” by the U.S. government had always bothered Fiona. It was the reason that Moira had been willing to risk everything to help her escape.
Fiona felt her emotions well at the thought of what Moira had done for her, at what her gorgeous partner had given up for her. A military scientist and nurse on the fast track within her chosen profession, Moira had condemned herself to a life on the run, wanted as a traitor to her own beloved country. And all to simply help her, a “genetically engineered weapon system” as the colonel had called her.
Fiona blinked away the unwanted feelings, before tears had a chance to well. Still, she heard a faint tremor in her own voice as she spoke once again. “What do you want?”
“‘What do you want, Sir.’” he corrected her, before spreading his hands as if he were making a generous offer. “All I want is for you to do the job you were created for. I wouldn’t think that’s much to ask, considering what you owe your country for the last two years’ of unscheduled leave.”
“Owe you?” Fiona scoffed, a sneer forming as her emotions momentarily overcame her control. But to have this man tell her she owed him after years of imprisonment by his hand? Already triggered by the man’s casual superiority, Fiona’s flare of anger was simply too great to bottle inside.
“Absolutely! Weapons don’t get time off. They perform as expected or they are discarded. You’re an instrument of the state, made of proteins and flesh rather than silicon and steel. You were never born, never a child, for goodness sake. You emerged from a tube as a fully formed simulation of an adult human being, an implement of violence to be pointed at our enemies.”
Fiona ground her teeth, seething at the man’s attitude. If he didn’t have Moira, she would have broken half the bones in his body by now even if the very special guns in the room tore her to bloody tatters moments later. It would be worth it. But he did. So she would do as he wished. For now.
“What. Do. You. Want?” Fiona enunciated, her voice low, dangerous.
The colonel stopped, watching her master her passions, all his barbs carefully chosen to determine if she still possessed the discipline he had literally beaten into her or if two years on the run had made her… soft. It was a test she had passed, if only barely. His face shifted into the first honest smile he’d worn since she’d arrived. “Solcoria’s leader. Dead.”
“An assassination?” Fiona replied, surprised. A task like that would require her to travel independently. She hadn’t thought that they would allow her that kind of freedom after her escape. They must really have a good understanding of how much Moira meant to her – and this person they wanted her to kill must really have been causing them some trouble.
“For a job like that, I’m going to need supplies. Passports. Credentials. Weapons. Cash.”
The colonel tossed her a passport. “There’s your first passport. You’re Canadian, today. Congratulations. As far as cash, I’ve become aware that you’ve made quite a bit on your own. We’ve frozen all but $20,000 of your accounts, so make due. And I assume ‘weapons’ is a joke. They won’t do you any good anyway. President Sarmovsky’s residence is a fortress with no windows. He has metal detectors at every entrance. This mission calls for a biological agent… which naturally, is why you came to mind. We would need at least three squads of conventional operators to storm his compound and even the Solcorian government could rally a sizable quantity of international outrage over ‘American adventurism’ if we leave a bootprint that large on their necks. It’s an election year, so we won’t be having that. It has to look like an inside job by one of his own security personnel.”
Fiona slipped the passport in her pocket, her duffle still in her hand. “Where do I meet you when I’m done?”
“You will report here, at this house, for debriefing.”
“And you’ll have Moira?”
He simply smiled that icy smile of his, baring his teeth as if they were fangs. “Stop trying to bargain with me, number one-one-four-bravo. When have I ever failed to reward your proper compliance with directives?”
Then he disappeared behind his row of soldiers, who folded up neatly into ranks behind him, the last still covering her until the final moment the door closed. Clearly, they had been well briefed on her abilities.
Fiona fumed, knowing that monster would never willingly let her go. But she had little choice. Her shoulders began to tremble now that she was out of view of her nemesis. She waited until the sounds of distant military helicopters faded before she burst into tears.
Fiona breathed a sigh of relief as she passed through the metal detector to be patted down by the guard on the other side. With a body like hers, she tended to attract attention. Posing as a fitness trainer seemed like one of a very few options that would be plausible for her body type and still gain her entry. It appeared her plan had worked.
Of course, she’d been half-hoping it wouldn’t work. The idea of killing a man she’d never met was abhorrent to her. Doubly so, considering she was doing it on behalf of a man whom she truly despised and actually would like to kill.
But Moira’s life was at stake here. Fiona knew that the Colonel’s threat to have her tried and executed as a traitor was not an idle one. He was probably itching to do exactly that. The man didn’t seem like one to take betrayal likely. The U.S. government would consider her on par with the Rosenberg’s after stealing top-secret, one-of-a-kind military technology.
As the group of guards searched her gym bag, Fiona felt her eyes moisten as she thought of Moira’s stunningly beautiful face, the only face beautiful enough to come close to matching her own. The huge woman shivered as memories of Moira’s lean, slender, leggy body wrapping itself around her flowed through her mind. She could almost feel the touch of her lover’s soft fingers as she thought of their most recent night together.
“Ma’am?” asked the guard at the metal detector, startling Fiona out of her reverie.
“Oh, yes. Sorry,” she replied, grabbing her bag from the conveyer belt and hurrying away. She needed to keep her mind on the task at hand. Once she was done, she would get Moira back one way or another, returning the priceless favor the beautiful nurse had done for her two years prior in helping her disable her nano-tracking devices and escape.
Fiona shelved the thought, turning her attention, once again, to the current plan. She knew, courtesy of one of the many interviews with Sarmovsky that she had read in preparation for the mission, that her target – it helped to think of the man she would soon kill as a target rather than a person – worked out religiously at 7:00 AM every morning. While he would probably still have an entourage of guards with him, as he apparently always did, at least she hoped to find him without the body armor that he typically wore as a course of habit. The man certainly seemed to know that most of the western world wanted him dead after he had bragged about sponsoring terrorist acts in most of their nations and took all sorts of precautions, even within the confines of his own fortress, which he almost never left.
If she had to assassinate someone, at least it was this douchebag. Though she hated being used, she had to admit that she would probably be doing the world a favor by ridding it of him.
Ascending the stairs to the third floor, she recalled the map of the compound that she had committed to memory the night before. She navigated the maze-like corridors until she saw it. The compound’s private gym lay just ahead, its steel-doored entrance monitored by four heavily armed men in full combat gear.
“Hi! I’m the president’s new trainer!” she said, breathing in the faint, musty scent of aged perspiration. The lungful of air caused her prodigious breasts to bulge under her tight workout top. Smoothing the clingy lycra over the breathtaking slopes of her succulent breasts to emphasize the effect, her massive, football-sized biceps seemed to explode with the movement.
The men’s eyes widened at the incongruous juxtaposition of the most beautiful face they’d ever seen over the most muscular physique they’d ever laid eyes on. Fiona smiled, watching the barrels of their guns lower slightly as the men attempted to figure out what to make of their unexpected visitor.
It was exactly what she had hoped for – a perfect moment to strike.
Fiona pounced like an attacking lioness, her fists lashing out with unthinkable power. The two men she targeted were caught completely unaware, their helmeted heads snapping back to collide with the steel door, denting its shimmering surface. The men bounced from the door to stagger forward in a dazed haze, spared their consciousness only by the helmets they wore.
As the unlucky recipients of her initial attacks floundered, Fiona turned her attention on the other two, calling on the instincts honed by years of combat drills with the military’s best trainers. The cable-like sinew in her bare quad tensed, and her leg snapped outward at breathtaking speed. She planted her foot several inches deep in the guard’s stomach, launching him halfway down the hallway, where he landed hard on his back, his rifle clattering past his head to slide to the end of the hall.
The final guard, behind her, raised his weapon, clicking off the safety as he prepared to fire. Fiona didn’t give him the chance. She stepped backward decisively, slamming her hip into him, knocking him off balance as her massive arm caught his flailing hand. With a quick judo-like move, she threw him over her shoulder, sending him crashing into the tile floor with bone-cracking force.
He didn’t move again.
Fiona whirled to find the first two men mostly recovered and fumbling with their weapons. She grabbed the barrel of each rifle, using their shoulder straps to pull each man into a forward stagger. She leapt upward, her calves flexing into diamond balls of impenetrable muscle as she simultaneously pulled down hard on their rifles with both hands.
The two men bent over just in time as Fiona sprang upwards, her powerful physique going fully airborne. Her rising knees exploded into their faces, a pair of nasty cracking sounds echoing down the corridor. Blood splashed from their lips and noses to spatter the walls as each man cartwheeled backward to land in a limp heap a few feet away. Fiona landed lightly on her feet, her head snapping sideways to re-engage the man she’d kicked halfway down the hallway. He was groaning, his hand patting the floor around him for his weapon, though it was far out of reach. She pivoted, stalking purposefully toward him, her staggeringly developed abs and broad back rippling with sleek striation as she moved.
The prone man’s eyes widened at her approach, his hands instinctively crossing over his face in a vain attempt to protect himself.
Fiona picked him up with ease, hefting him over her head before throwing him down with all her considerable might. She heard a cacophony of cracks as his body met the hard floor, and his fearful whimpering ended abruptly.
Dusting off her hands, Fiona surveyed the area. Four armed, elite soldiers against one unarmed woman.
It hadn’t even been a contest.
Fiona walked over to the door, turned the handle and tugged. It was locked. Shit. She checked each unconscious guard, but none of them had key that fit the lock. This Sarmovsky guy really was tight on security. A steel-reinforced door and no keys on the guards? In his own stronghold? Paranoid much?
But even so, he clearly hadn’t counted on anyone like Fiona coming after him.
She seized the door handle with both hands, lifting first one foot to press it against the vertical surface of the door, then the other. Her entire body weight levered against it, she squeezed the handle, the door’s weakest part, and pulled.
At first, nothing happened. Then, she heard a creak.
Then, a pop.
Shortly, after, it was followed by a groan, which crescendoed into a whine before becoming a full-on shriek of twisting metal.
With a lurch, the knob flew backward, sending Fiona to the ground with a soft thump. She sprang to her feet, however, as the door swung open, the six guards and lone wanted terrorist inside staring at the inches-thick security door hanging twisted in its frame, their expressions locked in various states of horror.
“Should have used a deadbolt,” Fiona quipped at the seven blinking faces peering at her in amazement. “Now, ready for a real workout?”
Her powerful legs launched the massive woman into a full sprint before anyone could react. Her rounded shoulder struck the first two guards like a bowling ball sending the last two pins flying for a definitive spare. Each man struck iron, crunching against the workout equipment behind them.
Fiona’s hands flashed out to grab the third man by his body armor. She twisted her torso, whirling around him to build momentum before releasing him in the direction of a fourth man like a flesh and bone cannonball. The two collided in a clatter of helmets and armor, one man’s back striking the cinder blocks of the far wall with lung-emptying force. Both men went down hard.
Fiona’s movement never stopped as the momentum from her powerful burst of speed carried her to the far wall in an instant. She planted a foot against it and pushed off, instantly changing direction as the fastest of the guards fired several bullets into the empty space she’d occupied a mere millisecond earlier.
The huge woman sprang off the wall to fly horizontally at the man, her fist drawing back to rocket into his unprepared jaw with inhuman power. His fragile bone shattered on impact, his body flying backward until his upper back clanged into a steel workout machine. He slid limply to the ground.
The heavily muscled woman’s airborne flow unleashed, she tucked into a somersault as she struck the floor before twisting her magnificent body in a whirling leap to plant her feet directly in front of the final guard, who was frantically attempting to keep up with her dizzying speed and bring his shaking rifle to bear. Fiona fired a savage pair of strikes with her knee into his chest, the second sending him flying into a row of exercise bikes with a pair of cracks from plastic and bone.
Fiona paused, knee still raised and perfectly balanced on the ball of her other foot as she turned her attention to a flabbergasted Sarmovsky.
The man was unarmed and clearly afraid, though his eyes remained defiant. Fiona smiled. Give the man some credit at least. He was keeping his shit together even after watching her masacre six men in seconds. Though he had no weapons, the man set his jaw. As she took a step toward him, he did likewise, firing a more-than-decent right hook into her cobbled midsection.
She barely felt it, her chiseled muscles absorbing the impact with ease. Sarmovsky grimaced, his strike clearly having hurt his wrist far more than it had hurt her stomach. He hadn’t even managed to knock her off balance with one foot still raised.
Fiona sighed as she reached a toe out to flick the strap of a lost rifle into the air, snatching it with her nimble fingers.
An instant later, a single bullet went through the center of the target’s forehead.
Fiona set the gun into the downed guard’s palm, wrapping his finger around the trigger to ensure that the man’s prints were on it. Then, she swept out of the room as quickly as she had entered, her entire assassination completed inside of two minutes.
As she walked off the plane into the airport, Fiona’s phone dinged. It was from the colonel. A video. Brow furrowing, Fiona clicked play. In it, the colonel approached a clearly upset Moira, a monitor behind them displaying news stories from that morning about the dramatic bloodshed in the Solcoria Presidential Palace. The old snake asked his captive to compliment Fiona on ‘an assignment well done’. Moira refused, a sparkle of defiance gleaming in her shadowed eyes. Then, the video ended.
Fiona’s heart leapt at the sight of her lover, her stomach twisting at the woman’s anguish upon hearing of her act – one which Fiona had promised she would never again perform.
As Fiona fought back tears, a text from the colonel describing the next mission chimed on her phone. He clearly expected that the video of Moira would be enough persuasion for her to do another job for him.
Fiona snarled at the unwanted message, then stuffed her phone back into her pocket, green eyes staring intensely ahead as she walked through Dulles airport. She recognized the wall behind Moira. She had spent countless hours staring at an identical patch of concrete. The colonel probably thought that a blank wall would give nothing away, but he was wrong. Only one place that she knew of had walls that featureless – the compound where she grew up.
Besides, as far as she knew, it was the only location with holding cells that the super-secret branch of the military had. The thought of returning there sent shivers down her spine, but she was determined to rescue her lover, no matter her personal anxieties about coming back to the site of her years-long enslavement.
This wasn’t going to be easy either. Not with the kind of security they had. The kind that was meant, specifically, to contain her.
At least they had trained her well for this sort of infiltration mission, she thought wryly. And she knew the place inside and out. The key would be speed. Get inside and back out quickly enough and people didn’t have time to react properly.
Speed would be the key.
Pulling her rental car off the road a half mile from the secret, underground facility, she slipped it into a patch of heavy undergrowth until it disappeared into the foliage.
Climbing out of her car, dressed in tight, black spandex that molded to every swell and valley of her rippling, heavily muscled physique, she made her way to the underground compound until she found its outer electrified fence. She crept silently along the perimeter until the gated driveway came into view. This was a top secret installation, but it was meant to look as unobtrusive as possible, so the two guards at the gate wore security guard uniforms rather than tactical military gear.
Fiona knew that she would have to take these guards out. There would be no sneaking past. The colonel would have them on the lookout for her specifically, just in case. And once she took them down, the clock was ticking. They would be discovered, though hopefully later rather than sooner.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself before the tense rescue mission truly got underway, Fiona closed her eyes. An image of Moira’s breathtaking face flashed through her mind’s eye, and the massive woman felt her jaw tighten with resolve.
She opened her exotic green eyes, letting them slowly focus on the two guards at the entrance. Her lips curled into an angry snarl.
It was time to save her lover.
Fiona sprang into action, launching herself forward with enough instant acceleration to make an Olympic sprinter jealous. Her footfalls were completely silent as she tore over the grass like a charging panther. She hit the first guard from behind in a rugby-style tackle, her broad shoulder slamming into his back so hard that she heard a loud crack as his head whipped backward.
The other guard was a few steps away, but she was to him before he could even manage to turn his head. She drove the other guard’s body into him with enough force to hurl them both through the aluminum-framed glass walls of their guard hut and out the other side.
Fiona circled the mangled guard house, quickly extracting both of their guns from their holsters and jamming them into the tight waistband of her sleek black yoga pants. She picked up the least bloody of the two guards and threw him onto her shoulder before reaching a hand into the guard hut to press the button to open the gate. Sprinting inside the gate, she spied the metallic steps that descended downward to a steel door hidden from sight in the ground.
The hulking woman pulled the limp man from her shoulder and smashed his face against the sensor, pulling up his left eyelid as she held him by his head with a single hand. Then, she unclipped the ID badge from his uniform and held it to a second sensor. Both turned green, and the steel-reinforced door began to open.
Fiona tossed the man aside, clipping his ID badge to her collar, then slipped inside the moment the door was wide enough to allow her passage.
Inside was a futuristic-looking hallway with azure LED lights lining the top and bottom of the corridor walls. It smelled of alcohol and bleach, the distinctive scent sending a shiver down her sculpted back as it brought back memories of her “upbringing” inside this place.
Silent as a stalking predator, Fiona proceeded down the hallway, gliding from side to side just out of view of each camera. The holding cells were on the bottom floor of the five-level underground facility, she knew, since that had been where she lived when she was here.
The sound of combat boots on tile alerting her to approaching danger, Fiona reached her turn just in time. She rounded the corner to pause directly under – and out of the view of – the first camera in the new hallway. Before the marching boots reached her position, she found what she was looking for and dashed to it, skirting the viewing range of the cameras once again.
Eschewing the elevators – she knew that they monitored the cameras inside those – she ducked inside the nearby stairwell door instead. Then, with a quick flex of her rock-hard glutes, she hopped onto the rail and slid down to the next landing in a quieter and faster method of descent than running down each step. She deftly repeated the process nine more times until she was standing at the door to the lowest floor.
Whispering a silent prayer that she would find Moira safe and unharmed, Fiona pulled open the door…
...only to find Colonel Doring and two heavily armed soldiers standing in the hallway directly before the holding cells.
“I thought you might try something stupid again,” the colonel said, his hard eyes locked on Fiona’s as the men on each side raised their heavy weaponry.
Fiona raised her hands in the air, feeling the comforting weight of the twin pistols stuffed into her tight pants at the small of her back.
The colonel and his men were a good thirty feet away. Too far to reach before they opened fire. She would have to use the pistols. But she needed a diversion – something to ensure they didn’t put her down before she could aim properly and fire.
“That was nice work with Sarmovsky. The Solcorian media bought the inside-job story hook, line, and sinker. As did their intelligence agencies,” Colonel Doring said, the corners of his mouth turning upward in a dark smile. “No one could conceive of anyone from outside overcoming ten elite guards without firing a single shot other than the one that went through Smarovsky’s brain. Nice touch, using the guard’s rifle to do it. It was obvious to them that it was an inside job, the work of a team of his own guards taking out their unsuspecting comrades.”
“You have so much potential. It’s a pity that you seem so determined not to fulfill your function,” said the colonel in a chiding tone, his dark eyes flashing in the iridescent blue light. “I would like to bring you home. To be able to make steady use of the most expensive weapon in my arsenal. But alas…”
He shrugged, giving her a “what can you do” look with his snakelike eyes.
“What if I did agree to come back?” asked Fiona, breaking her silence as she attempted to think of a way to distract the men. “Would you let Moira go?”
“Of course not, Fiona,” said the colonel coldly. “She is a criminal. And what would I gain? You would simply try to run into her arms again the moment you saw the opportunity.”
The base commander paused for dramatic effect. “No, I’m afraid I see no alternative but to continue to use your friend as leverage to ensure your compliance. It seems to be the only way to get my little weapon to work properly.”
“Now, why don’t you be a good little piece of government property and put your hands over your head, then walk into the nice little cell to your right that I prepared for your eventual return.”
Fiona seethed inwardly, but knew she had little choice. She would be riddled with bullets if she were to attempt to fire on these men. The colonel knew what he was up against and would only have picked the best men to stand beside him. But maybe if she played along…
“This cell?” Fiona said, keeping her tone flat as she decided on her course of action. “Fine!”
She placed her hands on her head, then marched directly into the cell without another word.
The colonel arched a brow in surprise, clearly not expecting her to acquiesce quite so easily. As she disappeared from their view, the soldiers quickly hustled forward, moving swiftly to get their eyes on their target once again.
The brief moment out of their sight was all Fiona needed, and, standing just inside the entrance of the cell, shielded from their eyes for a mere second, she quickly drew the two pistols from behind her and turned toward the open entrance to the small, featureless room.
The colonel raised a radio to his mouth and barked a quick order. “Seal her in. Now.”
A buzzing sound issued from the door of Fiona’s cell and a thick steel door began to close…
...an instant to late.
Just as the two soldiers came into view, Fiona launched herself through the rapidly closing portal, a pistol in each of her ambidextrous hands. She fired two shots simultaneously, her aim perfect in spite of her rapid movement. The two soldiers’ faces erupted in explosions of blood, and they went down before they could squeeze the triggers on their weapons.
Fiona landed, her guns already trained on Colonel Doring’s beady eyes. “Which cell?”
When he didn’t respond, she fired a shot that grazed the man’s ear before embedding itself in the wall at the end of the long corridor.
“Three,” said the colonel.
Fiona smiled coldly, then lowered one pistol. The other, she threw at the colonel’s head, striking him in the center of his forehead with its butt. He fell backward, where he lay unmoving.
Fiona watched him for a moment, her strong fingers clenching the grip on her remaining pistol as she watched the man she hated lie unconscious on the floor. She knew that he would not be able to function for hours. She had thrown that gun at perhaps two-hundred miles per hour, easily enough to put him out for hours. And the concussion he would have sustained from such a severe head injury would leave him unable to function very well for far longer than that.
For a moment, she had considered killing him.
But she was done killing. Done with this life. Done with the military. Done being a “weapon”. Besides, she needed him alive for one last thing.
Fiona walked forward, picking up the colonel’s radio. She pressed the talk button, then spoke in a soft but determined voice. “Open it or he dies.”
She pointed her pistol directly between the colonel’s closed eyes.
A buzz sounded, and the door to cell 3 opened.
A gorgeous blonde woman in a sky blue jumpsuit looked up, her eyes filling quickly with tears as she saw the green eyes that gazed warmly back at her. The tall, lithe blonde sprang to her feet and ran to Fiona, crashing into her steely body without even causing the hulking woman she loved to take a single step back.
Moira threw her arms around Fiona, then pushed onto her tiptoes to give her genetically enhanced lover a passionate kiss.
“Thank you,” she whispered, as their mouths finally parted, tears rolling down each of her sculpted cheeks.
“You’re so welcome,” said Fiona. “Now let’s get out of here!”
Hauling the colonel’s limp body to her prodigious chest, she placed her weapon against the side of his temple, then nodded for Moira to head out the door at the end of the hall where she had entered the corridor.
The two women strode purposefully down the hall, up the stairs, and out of the compound, their hostage clearly important enough that his underlings didn’t want to risk his life by opposing their exit.
When they got to Fiona’s car, she threw the colonel’s unconscious body down, then sped away. By the time she heard the helicopters, she was on the freeway, her car indistinguishable from all the rest.
The moment they arrived at Fiona’s hotel room, Moira was on her, planting kisses all over her face.
“You... are so... amazing!” she said breathlessly, nearly panting with desire for her superhuman lover already, after having had to restrain herself during the tense, silent drive here as Fiona concentrated on evading capture.
Then, the beautiful blonde paused, as if a sudden thought had occurred to her. “Did you win Ms. Olympia?” Her large blue eyes gazed upward into Fiona’s expectantly.
Fiona’s lips quirked upward in a sly smile, and she nodded.
“Did you fuck Mr. Olympia?” Moira asked, desire sparking in her luminous eyes.
Again, Fiona nodded, her smile broadening slightly.
“Did you make him your bitch?” Moira asked again, arousal quivering her body as she awaited the answer.
Fiona nodded a third time, her lips parting in a dazzling grin.
“Oh God, I’m so hot for you right now!” Moira said, her fingers trembling as they curled under the hem of Fiona’s tight, black workout top.
Moira pulled the garment over her lover’s head and flung it away, her eyes descending her lover’s awesomely chiseled, impossibly perfect body with absolute, unquenchable hunger. She leapt onto Fiona, wrapping her long, shapely legs around Fiona’s cobbled core as her hands clenched desperately at the rock hard swells of sinew that lined her broad back.
Fiona’s massive arm exploded with huge, hard muscle as she wrapped it around her lover and carried her to the bed.
The two made love for the rest of the night, Moira worshipping Fiona’s stunningly powerful, staggeringly feminine physique with a torrid tongue, sensual lips, and nimble fingers.
Colonel Doring limped to his desk, easing himself into the old-fashioned high-backed wooden office chair. “Oh, Fiona. You really are the sweetest of my girls.” He reached for the dixie cup full of pain killers and the bottle of water on a tray at the edge of the desktop, avoiding pressing his fingertips to the thick bandages wrapped around his forehead only with a supreme act of will.
He sighed, waiting for relief and considering his options. Considering them carefully.
She’d shown him mercy. That made her far more than priceless. It made her almost human.
Forty minutes later, the last piece on the chessboard within his mind fell into place. He stirred, pressing the lone unmarked button on his desk. In the distance a buzzer rang, summoning his adjutant. He had always been loath to issue his orders in digital form, a fastidious habit that had avoided several scandals from the dubious activities that his role as head of this facility sometimes entailed.
The door opened. “Sir?”
“Prep one-two-zero for multi-week sortie. She will play the part of ‘escapee’. She is to make her way to Las Vegas, causing a handful of incidents along the way. Noticed, but not too noticed. Bait.
“And activate one-one-five. She is to hunt our escaped little fledgeling once she has a 36-hour head start. Her orders are to retrieve one-two-zero only if she can take her alive. This will be a double blind tasking. Neither of them is to be informed that the other is on a conflicting mission. They must be completely convincing as they play their parts or Fiona will surely smell a trap.
“One-one-four-bravo.” He chuckled, correcting himself, realizing he had begun to use her chosen name in more than just his thoughts. “Be sure their tracer tags and sensory taps are in perfect working order… She still believes she is unique. I don’t want to miss a second of that inevitable threesome.”