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Ursula Parkheart, P.I. : The Flexing Detective in
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
FROM THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS 714-840-1145
Ursula Parkheart, P.I.:
The
Flexing Detective
"The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon"
by
Forrest Curran
(C) WIG, LTD 1994
Chapter Nine:
LadyMuscle Thunderheads!
She was burning with an anger kept under control only by the
same steel-willed discipline that had created her astounding
physique that flexed threateningly now, bigger-than-big and
bursting the seams of her coat as she stood in the doorway.
She was wearing a knee-length denim jacket open and
unbuttoned; a stretchy tube top beneath it, barely containing the
full-moon raging breasts that rose and fell with each heavily-
pronounced breath like an ocean's waves in a storm; and white
stretch pants that might as well have been painted on to her
breakneck curves.
The white high heels were in evidence again, too.
I wondered if they were the same pair, or if she stocked her
wardrobe closet with identical sets...
Her country-girl face was a grim lip-sticked war-mask,
features tight, hair a careless, pinned-back afterthought; I
flashed on a mental image of a Nashville Songstress who is
suddenly told by Music City Management that her fledgling career
is over, her plans for stardom shattered...
And my Bosslady was the one calling a halt to the concert...
Ursula released me and stepped between her secretary and the
giant blonde interloper, placing her equally-huge female monument
to over-development in front of me.
"So," the blonde sneered, extending two arms on the
doorframe as her coat fell back and revealed the harsh relief of
her chiseled rungs of brown abdomen, "he's got himself a great
big girlfriend, huh? Step aside, sister. I have something to
discuss with this little runt...," she asserted, rolling up her
sleeves now and stepping across the threshold, and passing
through my outer office in three long strides and onto the second
threshold, that divided my office from Ursula's room. It did not
appear that she was a women who could be reasoned with.
I felt a cold sweat break out on my neck as she stood now,
almost inside Ursula's office; like an earthquake of estrogen
ready to rumble, or...
An invader ready to attack.
"No, you don't," my protector responded, hands on her hips;
my eyes took a ride on the Aspen slopes of her body, and I wished
I could keep skiing until I was far away from here.
"He works for me, and if you have anything to say, you'll
say it to me, Ms. Hallison. And I had better like what I hear..."
I could not see the look on `Sally's face; all I could see
was her naked broad back ripple commandingly under flowing black
hair, as she defended her turf.
And her cowering secretary, as he crouched behind her...
I watched the tiny string of her panty disappear down deep
between her perfectly round and haughty buttocks, still full of a
teenager's ability to defy gravity at an age when such testaments
to youth begin to fall earthwards, full of jello-wobble.
Not on Ursula!
"So," the blonde surmised, "you found out about my tastes
for small-fry-guys. That little shit Angela, huh?"
Ursula nodded, a barely perceptible movement of hair.
"And you sent your little hairless guy here to catch my
attention by the pool. I shoulda known she'd try something," she
sniped with contempt for the skinny and spoiled rich-girl.
"She didn't try anything, Ms. Hallison. We did," Ursula
corrected her, proud of her small operative, giving me credit.
Not for anything, but I sort of wished that she'd leave the
`we' part out of it now...!
"Yeah, and you almost succeeded. You put `tiny' here on a
hook, like a little pale worm; knowin' I'd bite at the sight of
him. And maybe I did," she admitted, not embarassed in the least
to admit her rough-house ransacking of Ursula's small assistant.
"But I caught on before it was too late," she reminded us.
A momentary silence descended on the room; a pregnant pause,
as though these women were collecting their strength, stealing
themselves for a bare-knuckled big-babe brawl.
I was scared for Ursula. Up until yesterday evening, she
hadn't really been herself, had she?
"Give me the paper," was all Raye-Anne finally said,
quietly; holding out her hand and maintaining an even tone, but a
tone that all-the-same was a dam that held back white-water fury
only with great effort.
Ursula shook her head. She was as defiant as she was naked;
only her g-string covered any of her thick mountainous flesh; the
early sunlight worshipped her, in a gold puddle at her feet.
She held her arms at her side now, away from her body, and
so accentuating the width of her shoulders, and her wonderful
back continued to tense; muscle rose up close to the surface of
her skin, as though swelling herself up to an even bigger, more
intimidating size. With an adversary like Raye-Anne
Hallison, she would need it...
"Uh-uh," she denied her. "You got that thing under false
circumstances. In this case, two wrongs do make a right," she
asserted gently, matching her visitor's even tone of voice.
"I was hired to retrieve it, and my assistant distracted you
just long enough to do it...", she proclaimed, with just a bit of
pride at the bed-sheet bait-and-switch we had pulled together.
Raye-Anne raised an eyebrow; shot me with an arrow from
hateful smoldering eyes.
"Illegal circumstances? That so? I don't agree. The stupid
bitch signed everything over to me, and it's mine. Plain and
simple," she shrugged, taking another step over the threshold of
the office now, and into Ursula's domain; less than eight feet
away...
"And let me tell you something else, lady," she said, her
voice rising now, "your little slut-mouse-of-an-assistant and me
have a few things to discuss. Nobody fucks with Raye-Raye
Hallison. Not nobody. Not ever," she pronounced, speaking those
words like a death sentence upon my spinning head.
She leaned sideways, to see me clearly as I stood behind
Ursula, shrinking nervously and shaking with fear, trying to back
up until I was out the window, and a thousand miles from town...
She gave me a tiny little wave with her taloned fingers,
very slowly, smiling grimly; letting me know that she planned to
deal with me later. She turned back to meet dark-skinned
defiance from the rock-of-a-woman who stood between us, and
inhaled very deeply.
A power was building, sinews fighting internal restraint as
our invader built up to a She-Hulk Overload; cloaked muscle ready
to make itself seen, and felt...
I swallowed hard, closed my eyes for a brief second.
Nothing happened. I opened them to see...
Her large hand rummaging in her pocket?
And she produced the small African-Art animal from the
interior of her coat; the one that had been the signal for
Ursula's successful completion of her job.
"You left my Harry-Hippo turned around," she growled,
glancing at it as she held it high.
"That was how I got suspicious. I may not look the part,
but I keep a neat house," she contended with a touch of pride,
"and I know that my little hippo was facing the other way when we
went upstairs," she asserted, her voice just for a second taking
on a little girl's pouting tones at the mention of one of her
toy-dolls...
But it was gone again, when next she spoke...
"A lady cop comes looking for her little husband whose head
got turned, huh? Bullshit!," she spat.
"I knew something was up. As soon as your little boy here
left with that `cop' or whatever she was, I went to my safe.
Congratulations, lady. You did a good job. That's a tough safe
to find, let alone crack..."
Ursula nodded to her, and in the reflection of the marbled
glass I saw the bare bosom jiggling slightly with the movement.
"Thanks. I'm a pro, Ms. Hallison. When I get hired to do
something, I get it done. It's that simple."
Oh, yeah, I thought; Ursula was back...!
"And as far as finding your safe? I could see where it was
hiding the second I stepped inside your home. It's quite a common
choice, really. You'd be surprised how people think alike."
"Uh-huh," the blonde verified, resenting the implication
that her mind was any less a singularity than her body; but the
woman before her was proving things otherwise.
"I hopped in my car and followed your boy here. Don't look
now, lady, but he's two-timing both of us. I saw him all over
that blonde in the leather jacket who saved his ass from my
branding iron; they were gettin' along real nice `n cozy. That
is, until he pissed her off," she said, wagging a disapproving
finger at me...
"She threw him out of the car, and over her knee, too.
Must've done something to tick her off. Boy, you sure have a way
of makin' ladies angry, churchmouse," she contended, leaning over
to get a clear look at me again, her voice full of foreboding.
Suddenly, my rear end, whose pain had dulled, perhaps in the
distraction of my encounter with Ursula, began a painful
pulsation; I could almost feel Maria's handprints burning deep in
my flesh, pounding. Maybe I was dreading and anticipating
more...
"When I saw him go in here, I realized what was going on.
That blonde wasn't your wife, was she, little man?" she asked me.
I pretended I didn't hear...
"You have a little reputation in the bodybuilding community,
lady, and I knew you kept an office here," Raye-Anne continued.
"Remember that piece they did on you in "Musclemag"? I can
put two and two together, just like you can. So here I am. And
I.. want...Those....DOCUMENTS.....BACK!," she bellowed, clenching
her teeth to spit out those last few words like hot poison...
"No," Ursula said, shaking her head and bracing for trouble.
I angled my way back to her desk; where she kept her gun.
"No way," came Raye-Anne's voice at me. She reached into
another pocket and produced a small gleaming pistol. In her
sturdy arm, it's power diminished just a bit; the gun looked too
small and lady-like for someone so large and over-the-top as she.
But it was deadly all the same.
"Freeze, pipsqueak," she ordered, turning it's nuzzle upon
me. I obeyed. Bullets can hurt even worse than bulging biceps.
"Get over here," she snarled at me, keeping her gaze steady
and hard on Ursula. She seemed be appraising her all-but-naked
body, as though trying to figure out if she could handle her
if things got physical, surveiling the Perfect Woman's physique
for any flaws or weaknesses.
She would not find any...
All the while, she kept a firm grip on her gun, her thick
forearm bared by the rolled-up sleeve..
I obeyed again, and walked over to her fearfully, dread
falling over me like a shroud.
"Still wearing that little speedo, huh, boy?," she sneered,
grabbing me by the arm and pulling me at her. I slammed, quite
involuntarily, into the Rocky Mountain that was her voluptuous
body; and lost my breath in the process.
She spun me around and, bending down, locked a tree trunk of
an arm around my neck, squeezing just hard enough to make me
understand that any attempt at resistance would mean my death.
My upper back was pressed hard against her breasts, but they
offered me no comfort.
Her flesh was cool and hard, and I could see the look of
concern in Ursula's eyes that met my own and tried to soothe me.
MuscleBossLady would handle this, wouldn't she?
I hoped, gulping audibly.
"Don't worry, JT. I'll protect you," she seemed to be
saying wordlessly, as she struck a powerful pose--hands at a
waist sculpted by thousands of slant-board crunches and whittled
to nothing; her hands reaching almost-clear around them; wide-
wide shoulders coming into play, mountains rising from under the
flesh, staying uncovered; bare molten boulders of flesh bared,
the better to impress her challenger...
"Okay, Lady Dick, hand over that paper or you can put an ad
in the papers tomorrow looking for a new assistant...."
The pressure of her arm around my neck increased, and I
began to redden and choke.
Ursula made a quick one-step move at Raye-Anne, but thought
better of it as I let out a small yelp as oxygen vanished from my
lungs and my windpipe began to collapse.
She froze in her high-heeled tracks.
Resigned, her beautiful face betraying defeat despite her
iron will to protect me, she reached into the desk.
Would she get the gun...?
"Hold it," Raye-Anne yelled, in anticipation of a trick.
Ursula froze again, under orders...
Raye-Anne cocked the gun and held it to my temple.
"Try anything funny, lady, and your little boyfriend's
history. I don't think you want to take that chance. Do you?"
Slowly, looking down, Ursula closed the drawer, opened
another; and, hesitantly, removed the papers. She placed them on
the desk, her Amazon's thick body suddenly impotent in the
gunsight of the little automatic.
"Push it to me on the floor," Raye-Anne growled, "then step
back to the window," she ordered.
The white sheets of legalese came across to us in a smooth
slide over the wood floor.
"Pick it up, littledick," she ordered me.
Another of her orders was carried out by Ursula & Co, Inc.
I was the "Inc."
Bare-skinned and beaten, Ursula had no choice but to obey.
My heart was beating a hard and fast marimba in my chest,
and blood rushed through my ears loud and clear, almost
deafening.
"Put these on, slaveboy," she ordered, producing a pair of
black metal handcuffs. "You're gonna get cuffed to me, just like
in the movies. I'm gonna take you someplace, and show you what
happens to little wimps who fuck around with big bad Raye-Anne,
get me? Oh, and by the way, my branding iron is out in my car,
and it's still hot. You're little ass is in for some treat,
Junior..."
As per her command, I locked my wrist with the cuffs, and
she did the same with the other end.
We were chained together; and I knew I was in hellish
trouble. I tried to avoid the stare of angry blue topaz that was
burning a hate-filled hole in my head; I kept my eyes downcast,
in defeat, helpless in the hands of a six-and-a-half-foot tall
steaming cauldron of sheer malevolence twice my weight, who
clasped her little hippo in her hand like a child with her
favorite toy; but who was full of electro-charged muscle and a
burning desire to make me suffer...
Ursula, powerless for the first time since I had known her,
stood with her huge arms folded in anger and frustration across
her bare chest, distorting her big breasts as they were pressed
flat under all that muscle; nipples peaking out the slits of her
fingers like a second set of prying red eyes trying to catch a
peak at the proceedings through fleshy venetian blinds.
"You're not leaving the building with him," she said
finally, emotion breaking into the cool river of her voice.
Raye-Anne cocked an eyebrow.
"Oh, yeah, lady? Just watch me. Don't try to follow us...,"
she ordered, holding her gun high, right at Ursula's heart.
And we began backing out of the office. It was useless to
try to oppose her; she could carry me as easily as breathe...
I found myself wishing and hoping for a natural cataclysm to
strike, a tornado, an earthquake; anything but this stacked
hurricane of blonde muscle named Raye-Anne Hallison...
We stepped out into the dead-still tomb of the dark hallway,
and Raye-Anne shut the door. I watched my g-stringed
MuscleBossLady disappear behind it, like a curtain closing and
calling an end to that part of my life, for good.
The hard blue eyes of the Amazon turned upon me, and seemed
to lift me roughly yet easily, and pin me against the wall by
themselves, in the shadows of the deserted hallway. There was no
air to breathe.
But that may have been because I was too scared to inhale.
"You blew it, Skinny Boy," she pronounced, her hot breath
billowing in my pale-white frightened face as she held me aloft
with one hand grabbing my swimsuit by the top. I was pinned like
a helpless moth on a bug-nut's board, just like in that movie...
I started to wonder if the infamous Hannibal Lecter was any
relation to the Hallisons of Pennsylvania...
"Too bad, too. You coulda been around for awhile, if you'd a
just been a little bit smarter. I like havin' guys like you
hangin' on my bod 'n livin' to please me; the sex sucks, but the
worship's great; I think it's better than havin' a dog...," she
snarled, promising brutality from an unrelenting hand.
I was terrified; no way to talk my way out of it. My feet
dangled high off the floor, and the heat of her body was
palpable, like a demon again; maybe I was in hell for real this
time...
Holding me in place with her massive bodyweight, my arms and
legs gone limp, she produced the little animal again, holding it
up right in front of my face.
"Harry the Hippo thinks you did a real bad thing, mouse.
You made his friend Raye-Raye mad. You hurt her feelings, too.
And when Raye-Raye's feelin's are hurt, so are Harry's. So you
better apologize..."
I tried to make my brain and my mouth work together long
enough to form the words; I was fighting a fearfilled urge to
pass out.
Be strong, whatever happens, I told myself; for Ursula...
"I'm sorry, big Raye-Raye," I offered meekly, "I was only
doing my job. That big lady inside does...does bad things to me
if I don't do what she tells me to do," I melted, lying weakly;
choking softly, worshipfully, breathlessly, trying to sound
child-like but sexy at the same time, like some strange post-op
Jennifer Tilly sniffing back crocodile tears to get what she
wants.
Don't laugh, gentle reader. At that point I was so scared I
would've even worn the little red dress that the silly Ms. Tilly
bounced and bopped around in, attributes spilling out and never-
quite-wearing-it, in the movie "Let It Ride", if I thought it
might've helped save my mortally-endangered skin!
And I would have lowered my head and pouted with big-eyed
innocence, but I was too scared to move my head, and I didn't
think she'd buy it anyway...
She didn't...
"Bullshit!, she spat, "you're on salary, Bikini-Boy.
Besides, I don't want to hear your apology, you little asshole;
your'e gonna be doing penance to your goddess for a long time to
come, to show me how sorry you are for your sins. But right now,
I want you to apologize to Harry Hippo," she said, as though
disappointed that I didn't understand, but meaning every word.
And I did apologize to him, feeling more ridiculous
executing that simple order, however weird, than I had even in my
puppet-jiggle on her knee amidst the silk and the empty jaded
glares of her dolls.
She made the wooden replication of a roaring hippo do a
little dance of joy on my shoulder; satisfied at last, she
dropped it in her pocket again.
A girl-woman satisfied.
"There's a boat waiting at the dock. We're taking a ride,
and you're gonna learn how dangerous it can be to cross me.
You're gonna be my li'l slave, honey," she growled, all blue-
denimed business again...
I tried to guess at the possibility that the boat was
Maria's, and that I was in for some stereophonic abuse at the
hands of both women. No way, I knew; not even I was that unlucky,
was I?
"There's gonna be whippings and brandings and spankings, and
you're gonna thank me for every one of them, understand? And if
you do anything I don't approve of," she threatened, her large
hand reaching down inside the waistband of my briefs again,
finding my shrunken testicles and grabbing them tightly as she
continued to lean against me, "you can kiss these little cherries
g'bye. I'll rip 'em right off you, and make you eat 'em for lunch
with lots of ketchup. You wouldn't like that, wouldja?"
"N-No, Raye-Raye," I stammered, averting my eyes.
Her mid-section was pulsating with anger, as it pressed hard
against my own much-softer belly; as though her muscles had to
forcibly hold themselves back from erupting and taking out their
wrath upon me, right here, right now.
"Don't ever call me that again, slave. I will be addressed
as `Ma'am' for now on..."
Just like Maria. The word was going to become part of my
vocabulary, if I lived through this morning! I was to learn that
this was something that muscular women loved to be called...
"This big bod's gonna keep you in a dirty little hell--
permanently. Just think how cute your ass-cheeks are gonna look
with your hot Aunt Raye-Raye's initials on 'em, nephew,!" she
continued, her stunning, heartlessly-big body backing up her
threats. Her stare was icy and molten all at the same time.
"We'll be takin' care of that real soon," she promised.
"That way if you ever get lost, why, they'll know just where to
return you, right, little man,?" she asked, derisively. Her anger
seemed ready to explode as she held her forearm across my chest,
keeping me pinned to the wall.
Before I could respond, she released me, and I dropped to a
pair of shaky feet. She took hold of my trembling arm, and
started moving faster than my feet could function; dragging me as
though I was a drunken doll, to the doorway that led to the
stairs. But the heavy metal door was locked!
Raye-Anne howled in fiery frustration, and sprinted with me
for the elevators.
My bare feet never touched the ground.
There was an "Out of Order" sign on the double doors.
"What's your bitch-of-a-boss trying to pull, Small Stuff?,"
the blonde giantess raged, breathing fire through clenched teeth.
A thick vein suddenly pulsed prominently in her temple; she shook
my hand-cuffed wrist high, tethered and locked to her own, and to
whatever hard-muscled fate awaited. My shoulder screamed a fiery
rebellion, and I winced with the pain as the sharp metal dug into
my wrist; bruises forming...
"I-I don't know, ma'am, I promise," I quaked, weakly.
I was shaking; swallowing panic, inhaling the scent of my
own fright, high and sharp, pungent on my skin; humbled by her
vast angry body as it towered above a frightened mannequin-man.
She was mad beyond all reason now, very possibly in more ways
than one.
I could only pray she would show me mercy if Ursula was
unable to extricate me from this dreadful circumstance...
Back to the office now, towing me all the way, my feet
dragging across the floor as their owner jerked me about, like a
puppet again in her powerful dominion; unable to find my balance
as the Blonde Hurricane raced along, infuriated now; grumbling
with anger and ready to explode as she devoured the floor before
her with each step.
Which was just what my Big Bosslady had bargained for...
Ursula was nowhere to be seen as Raye-Anne burst, no;
exploded into the office. Then I heard a familiar clicking
sound...
Ursula had always taught me that in a situation like this,
hit the deck; that way you denied your captor the easy target.
I did.
An exotic piece of womanhood appeared from behind us, with
the cocked gun right at the back of the blonde head. It was a
big black cannon of a .44 that looked powerful enough to stop a
battleship at full steam; I had never seen it before...
She had thrown on her trenchcoat and looked magnificent;
brown breast and hard washboard abs showed through the canvas
curtains of the coat.
"Drop it," Ursula demanded.
"I'll shoot him," Raye-Anne said, glancing down at me as she
threw that barricade of an arm across my neck.
"And then I'll shoot you, Ms. Hallison. Where will that
leave us? I'll need a new assistant, and Angela Sternwood will
need a new partner. What good is that?," she contended, a
soothing tone coming into her voice, trying to disarm the
blonde's volatile condition. The tone spoke of calm control, and
a sisterhood of the silken bicep; and I felt a sense of relief
and deliverance from my branded-behind future that had loomed so
clearly in my vision...
Raye-Anne surrendered the gun with a disgusted sigh, and
lowered her arm from my neck.
I dove to her feet and grabbed for the brilliant metal
death.
Emboldened, and under the unblinking eye of Ursula's rocket-
launcher of a weapon, I searched her coat pocket for the key to
give me my freedom from the fate that had been awaiting me; and
produced it, slipped it into the cuffs, ignoring the dead-meat
glare of those frozen-arctic eyes.
The metal bracelet fell away, and I sat on the floor,
rubbing my wrists between the two hard-bodied brooding
giantesses, full of pose-down fever in their faces.
I felt like a man repreived from death row.
"The documents," Ursula said, pointing the gun.
Frowning, Raye-Anne dug a clawed hand into the inner breast
pocket of her coat.
When she produced her hand again, it was a flying blur.
She hit Ursula hard and fast on the chin. A strange grunting
noise issued from deep in her stomach as the sound of bone
meeting bone made a sickening crunch, and sent her reeling; the
gun took flight, too, across the room, out of sight, to parts
unknown in the casual cluttered disarray of the Flexing
Detective's office.
I rolled and backed away, fumbling with the appropriated
pistol as I did. Raye-Anne would want it back, and I had to make
sure that she didn't get it.
Ursula leapt to her feet like an angry wildcat before Raye-
Anne could capitalize, and charged, her calves launching her like
a rocket; she locked her mighty arms around Raye-Anne Hallison
with murderous intent in her eyes; glittering diamonds afire.
The battle was on.
I stood and carefully took aim as the two huge ladies locked
themselves up in mortal combat. As they jockeyed for advantage,
trying to pivot their massive physiques, and so gain the
advantage of superior stance, Raye-Anne's jacket began to shred
in the struggle. The old denim long ago worn thin, seams
unravelling in Ursula's strong hands; it now fell, as though on
cue, from the blonde's huge brown body, a piece at a time at
first, until it was merely a patchwork collage of soft worn blue
amidst their shining high-heels as they danced in big-babe-
battle.
Harry the Hippo tumbled out, and spun his way to my feet, as
though seeking refuge from the coming she-muscle storm.
It was hard to get a bead on the ferocious brute-of-a-
blonde, in whose bed I had moaned and worshipped and passed out
just hours ago. It seemed wrong to shoot her now, but when I saw
my Bosslady in trouble...
It was a strange feeling; seeing the two powerfully-built
women fighting, femme a femme, while I stood on and watched, like
the flirt who starts a battle but whose hairdo stays neat..
Even though it was in the line of duty, (for a legal
document worth millions to Raye-Anne, and a healthy paycheck for
Ursula and me), it all seemed like some bizarre '90's twist---
I was being fought over.
Wasn't I?
They were both hugely-muscled, show-stopper showgirls; the
blonde behemoth and the raven-haired ravager of my heart, their
bold attributes spilling out, both combatants too angry to care.
The two lady goliaths careened towards me even as Ursula's
coat now fell loose from her body, and went the way of the denim
jacket of her opponent--Raye-Anne had demolished it with a pull
as they swore at one another, spitting threats; and it lay on the
floor in tatters, mingling with the destroyed denim.
The massive ladies were at it now, trying to get a grasping
hold of each other's scuffling superstructures, flesh crack-
slapping against flesh, echoing through the small room; and they
now stumbled in each other's arms in a simultaneous take-down,
overturning furniture in loud crashes, until they fell across the
room, and into me.
I went down quickly under their collosal-chick body-check,
the gun flying free, sailing across the room.
It vanished; falling out the window like a little silver
bird, to the ground below.
I heard it discharge as it hit the empty pavement.
I groaned in anguish, and rolled away again, quickly, to
avoid being crushed by over five hundred pounds of big angry
naked women as they reeled in each other's grasp on the floor.
Their long manes mixed, ebony and gold tresses intertwining;
their limbs locking and writhing, almost as if they had become
one muscular science experiment gone awry; at war with itself and
it's own thick pulsing flesh.
More groans and curses were exchanged, like an enemy's
ardent vow, a promise to hate forever.
The two muscleladies pushed against each other; one could
not overpower the other, and so, using each other's weight for
leverage, somehow fought their way to their feet, giant calves
bulging; and locked huge arms around each other again, sinews
flexing wickedly as each tried to establish a stranglehold.
Their faces contorted with the effort of battle; and as they
wrestled, steel snakes appeared and disappeared beneath the
browned skin of their forms; thick muscles coming into play as
though inhaling on their own, demanding the fuel to power this
Ultimate Catfight.
Ursula reached under Raye-Anne's chin and pushed her head
back hard; she stumbled backwards, and the blonde's skull slammed
against the dividing wall between our two offices.
The glass partition cracked sharply into a spiderweb...
Ursula pounced...
The tube top tore, clasped tightly in `Sally's other hand;
Raye-Anne's huge boobs made their escape to freedom, and dark
soccer-balls fell heavily, magnificently, on her chest, exposed.
The big nipples were hard, jutting, purple-red with adrenal
rush...
Ursula grabbed one of the huge glands in her hand and
twisted, and the blonde's face contorted with pain.
In the quiet morning air, in an all-but-deserted building,
the She-Brawn Bout was now firing on all thrusters, burning
anything or anyone who stood too near to their hot-blooded rage.
I had to admit--it was magnificent. Hadn't my Bosslady been
offered a contract to be a pro wrestler? Boy, she would've been
great, too; unbeatable, hot, a dominion of daunting delt and
full-breasted female splendor.
And I would have had a front-row seat every night, to cheer
her on!
But suddenly, Ursula was doubling over in a mad swirl of her
own hair; Raye-Anne had sucker-punched her below the belt, and
now followed-up; incapacitating Bosslady with another shot to the
kidneys. Her hands went to her injury, exposing herself to more
attacks...
Sometimes a moment can last a long time...
Ursula's handprint was red and clear on the right breast of
the big bad blonde who now had her chance...
She grabbed her doubled-up dark-haired foe by her strong
chin with one hand, and maneuvered another under an arm-pit;
lifted her until she began, incredibly, to leave the floor; her
high heels dangled several inches off the hardwood, the shiny,
almost-lethal spikes of her shoes hovering impotently under the
diamond-hardness that was her heart-shaped calves...
The sun, momentarily blocked by a dark and angry cloud,
shone through now, throwing a sudden spotlight upon this
Hippolytian feat of strength, as though to call it, and the
battled that had produced it, to the attention of the natural
world.
There was a saying: Never fight with a crazy person; they
have strength that comes from places and parts unknown, as though
the same demon that drives them mad also fuels them with power
immeasurable. If Raye-Anne was indeed mad, Ursula was in trouble
now, and she might need help...
Raye-Anne was holding MuscleBossLady suspended in the air,
overhead; gold hair had fallen freely, wildly, from their captive
pins, and down about her tank-tough shoulders. The huge sinews
of her arms flexed and strained and shook with the effort, but
showed no signs of tiring, and her narrow waist trembled with
exertion, in a blur...
Still stunned by the vicious shot to her kidneys, Ursula
could not respond; her hair fell like a black shroud across her
pain-strickened face even as she struggled overhead.
For just a moment I stood in stark admiration for Raye-Anne
and her fantastically thick-muscled glory; every ounce of her
strength was at work now, as she sought to vanquish her opponent.
And my love.
The stretch pants could not stretch enough; the added weight
of the big lady detective on the blonde's quads forced the pants
to surrender; and they began splitting, tearing the white cloth
to tatters in a long, sick rrrriiiiipp!
Sun-browned sculpted oak became exposed as the torn material
fell from her legs in shreds, ignored as they joined the growing
pool of conquered garment on the office floor. She had neglected
to don panties when she had left her humble home, to do battle
with the lady-detective, and so now, hard round glutes popped
into view, as did the trim pubic bush that lightly camouflaged
the hot wet trap that was her vagina.
There was not a single tan line upon her body; not one. Her
naturally-fair Nordic skin was nearly as sun-darkened as my
boss's own.
And so she was naked, and, I had to admit, glorious; the
wild flying hair, flexing muscles, and ready-for-anything breasts
that never quit. Architectural splendor and sultry sex were
meeting and merging and challenging for dominion between the two
women.
It was as if they were both meant to be this way...
If only Ursula could get her second wind...!
I dove for the denim jacket and huddled in the corner with
it, taking the documents out of the pocket and folding them
carefully. I tucked them into the skimpy confines of my emerald
green swimsuit, enhancing an erection that was, I admit,
sprouting amidst the naked chaos of the swelling scene.
My eyes fell on Ursula's empty stretch-dress as it lay
across her seat. I hoped it's owner would live to don the clingy
outfit again. I had to do something!
Wasn't there another gun in her desk, somewhere? The
smallish .22 she had been cleaning and loading when I came in?
Raye-Anne's nipples were still hard with the excitement of
battle; they stood erect and red on the huge round breasts like
beacons sounding a battle alert. Buttocks tensed under the pussy-
payload she carried, and was about to launch...
To my horror, she began walking towards the window with My
Large Ladylove, who still could not muster a rally; she was
groaning and swinging at air, unable to overcome the crushing
kidney-blow or the deathgrip of the huge blonde woman who held
her overhead, with both arms...
Raye-Anne's stomach was a flat and unforgiving battleplate
of runged muscle that moved with each breath as though there was
a vicious little creature living inside.
"Hope you can fly, bitch," Raye-Anne grunted wickedly
through clenched teeth, "'cause you're goin' out this window in
just a sec. Then I'm taking your little boyfriend with me for a
long, long time. He's gonna be my shivering little slave for the
rest of his life, aren't you, mouse?"
She stood, with Ursula in her impossible arms, at the open
window; and got ready to heave her to her death.
I couldn't let it end like this, especially not now, when
the salvation of her hardbody had been, finally, minutes ago, in
my small hands. But I couldn't get near enough to her desk to
look for that firearm.
My eyes scoured the floor--
Where was that other gun; the black .44 that had been
knocked from her hand?
Desperation can give you courage that you didn't know you
had.
I was desperate, so I had courage...
I was an early cut from my high-school football team, and
spent most of my time managing the equipment for the girls'
basketball team. Even then, I wanted to be around Amazons...
But I remembered the one thing I did learn from my attempts
at athleticism. I knew how to throw my body as a human blockade,
and sacrifice a few minutes of steady breathing in exchange for
stopping a runner. It wasn't about size at all, you see.
It was about...
Knees, and the vulnerability thereof...
Steeling myself, I dove straight for Raye-Anne Hallison's
patellas with all the might that I could muster in my one-
hundred-and-forty-pounds.
For a moment, I thought I would bounce off the powerful legs
like so much flotsam, and I was almost right. For such was the
power of the massively-built blonde goddess that all my
bodyweight had managed to accomplish was to knock her momentarily
off-balance, and buy Ursula a few second's respite.
But it would be all she would need...
Her balance was upset; and I looked up, with cross-eyes from
the bludgeoned impact, to see Raye-Anne teetering and cursing in
anger. She lost her steady hold on my Bosslady overhead; she had
been ready to hurl her to her doom, but Ursula, now fully on top
of the situation, grabbed a hold of the window-frame with sure,
strong arms; her thick upper body going to work now, her brain
commanding stunning she-muscle to life, Gibraltar Biceps
inhaling, taking over, as her legs locked a scissor around the
blonde's thick neck.
She squeezed, her calves and quads pulsing, unforgiving and
unrelenting, and brought a purplish pallor to the sunbronzed
complexion of her opponent, who even now was beginning to buckle
at the knees, and sink to the floor; two giantesses, bare flesh
abounding, but not yet through with each other...
Ursula, who had only a second ago been mere inches from
terrible death, was in charge now, suspending herself from above,
her face a determined screw, her grip sure upon the window-frame
as her physique inflated majestically, prominent corded veins
rushing life-giving oxygen to meet the demands of muscle-
mountains as she continued a relentless attack with a pair of
deadly gams.
Sweat was pouring off their perfect, huge bodies in little
drops, running off breasts and down high-heeled legs to a growing
pool below them...
But such was the fearsome singularity of her grip that she
was unable to free herself from her own vise-like hold on the
blonde, who, moments later, found herself slipping in that same
puddle-pool; and after a moment's struggle with her own internal
equilibrium, they went down in a thudding crash...
I heard skulls hit the floor as I frantically scoured the
room for the other gun. What I didn't know was that Ursula was
out cold for the moment, and Raye-Anne's youth had given her the
upper hand. She was upright in seconds, and reached down for a
handful of dark hair.
Like a primal cavewoman in spiked heels, the naked lady
bodybuilder had grabbed a tangled clump of raven silk, tugged it
sharply as though to test it's tensile strength, and began
dragging it's owner towards the bathroom. Ursula, still stunned,
offered only lame little kicks in protest to this prehistoric
treatment.
Her perfect bottom dragged across the dirty floor, and it
picked up dust and scuffmarks as it skidded towards it's fate...
They were heading into the bathroom, alright.
But why?
I thought incongruously of the old joke about women never
going to the powder room alone, as I watched, through the open
doorway, a pair of green and struggling high heels disappear with
a groan, around the corner.
I ran to the desk, yanked and slammed drawers open and
closed in a frantic search for a glimpse of bright metal; I began
rummaging through a slum of torn paper and old bills; she had
always refused to let me clean the disastrous interior of the
desk; a fifty-car collison of refuse and stale perfume...
Dammit, `Sally!
But wait...
What were they doing in there?
Raye-Anne's huge brown bulky arm would flex as she pushed
Ursula's head down; I couldn't see from where I was standing, but
very quickly I knew exactly what she was trying to do.
Ursula's half-conscious head had been dunked into the very
same toilet in which I had spasmed and shot my not-so-silent
Monday Morning Adoration to my bosslady. And Raye-Anne had
pinned her body down, arms behind her, so that she could not-so-
much as muster a rally; and so ensure a quick finish to the
Flexing Detective.
Raye-Raye, evil muscles grown to full size, throbbing
and stating their flesh-and-blood mastery of the situation,
pulled the handle and laughed a brutal laugh.
In the drawer I caught a glimpse of slim metal buried under
a vesuvius of old papers and fresh tampons; snatched the small
coolness up, ran to the bathroom doorway, and pointed it.
"Hold it, Ms. Hallison!," I ordered in a shaking voice, not
sure for a second what to call her...
She turned to regard me with eyes brimming with amusement,
even as she wrestled with Ursula's blindly-flailing wrist that
had, for a moment, broken free; she caught it, placed it in her
armpit and clamped down hard and tight.
Now she really laughed.
"Let Ursula go!," I commanded, trying to sound in charge,
and lowering my voice half-an-octave, "do you hear me?"
She laughed at my James-Earl-Jones impression, and lowered
her own voice to a gravelly mock-bass...
"Whatcha gonna do with that, Bikini Boy? Staple my tits
together?", she bellowed from an endless fathom.
She roared and went about the business of watery murder.
I looked down to my hand, and saw that, in my desperate
haste, what I had found was not a gun, but a Swingline Super-
Deluxe Stapler; the one I had given my boss for Christmas last
year, engraved with this message:
"To Ursula,
With All My Love Forever,
JT...
When her fiance had found out about it, he wanted to beat me
up, but Ursula had laughed it off; "He's just a cute kid with a
crush on me," she had soothed her stallion, oozing her open-
legged compliance to him on the telephone as I poured her
freshly-made protein drink and shrank into the floor.
Alot of good my love had done for her, anway...
I threw the thing down in frustration, made another abortive
attempt to find the fucking .22! And where-oh-where was that
missing .44? Unarmed in a room full of lost firepower, within a
second's grasp but a light-year from my hand, I started another
last-second herky-jerky search...
I heard the water churn loudly and rise high in the bowl,
and Ursula gurgled and spluttered desperately for air.
There was a foreign element to the sound she was making.
I had heard it once before in my life; it was a call of
death, approaching fast; merging with her struggle to live, and
beginning to overtake it...
Automatically, desperately, I made a start for the Amazons.
I had no idea what difference I would make by confronting
the towering blonde inferno bare-handed; she could swat me like a
fly and pluck my wings with her teeth, in leisure.
But at least I would be with Ursula, and meet death side-by-
side with my beautiful bosslady...
I watched as she called upon some final strength; her head
escaped and emerged just above the frigid water, dripping,
gasping; her effort falling short of what would be needed to
break free of the death-hold that was upon her. She turned her
water-logged gaze to the doorway for just a moment; her face a
canvas full of pained exhaustion, pleading for help with eyes
that were losing their light...
"Don't even think about it, Smallstuff. Don't even think
about it," Raye-Anne barked at one of us; her once-beautiful face
was now contorted to an ugly mask, full of rage and fury and
battle; perverted with hatred.
With that, she shoved the shivering mass of dark tangles
back into the toilet; a sick frantic splashing filling the room.
She pointed at me as I stood, very near the doorway again,
only a long, long yard from my Love and watching her ever-
weakening efforts to stay alive begin to ebb and die; but the
crazed abundance of the muscles in Raye-Anne's thick arm were
tensed and taut and terrifying; denying me access like a brown
barricade of solid, pulsing-veined flesh; and at that moment, I
was sure she was a supernatural creature after all, because my
feet froze to the floor like glue.
"As soon as I take care of this bitch, I'm gonna be takin'
you back with me to teach you a few things about the life of a
slave," she confirmed, above the sound of Ursula's watery groans.
"I own you, little man, and I intend to get some use out
of you," she promised, blowing me a cruel perversion of a kiss
with pink-painted lips, before turning back to her big victim for
just a second, to take stock of the progress of her dark-haired
counterpart's slow drowning...
She flexed the giant arm again, an arm whose bold size even
surpassed Ursula's. The bicep sprung to vulgar, omnivorous size,
and scared the hell out of me as much as it filled me with
confused lust...
"See this? This is gonna be your jailer for now on, buddy.
You're gonna worship me for a long, long time, Baby-Wimps..."
I wanted to say something; to beseech her to take me, but to
please spare Ursula! But I could not find the words, horror
overtaking my ability to talk, or think...
There was no mercy in Raye-Anne now. Not relinquishing her
unbreakable hold for a second, she leaned down to the g-string of
the dying woman, the cloth stained with water and soiled with
sweat; and tore it off with little sharp white teeth that would
leave a tell-tale bite-mark on the taut behind.
She stood up, spitting it at me.
I caught it, held the sweet damp thing close, smelled
Ursula; smelled death; prayed.
Raye-Anne had traveling orders for her beaten opponent...
"Meet Mr. Death naked, like the slut you are, bitch. Maybe
he'll like what he sees and fuck you with his big cock all the
way to hell!," she shrieked from a pit of madness.
She flushed again, Ursula gurgling frantically, choking, her
arm free again and flailing feebly at the dead dry air as water
poured over the porcelain rim and onto the floor, and the body of
the woman I loved. Her muscle was mere embroidery now, a pretty
suit of armor that could not protect her lungs from the assault;
the torment of the watery swirling toilet whose overflow now
formed a growing pool on the bathroom floor.
What a horrible fate!
Drowning in her own toilet at the hands of her flexing and
laughing enemy, while I stood idly by, staring at the hugely
roped arm that belonged to an evil, and quite possibly insane,
sun-browned blonde goddess; like a lovesick, weak-kneed flex-
loving fool.
I stood there; truly impotent, hating myself; as dark clouds
gathered over a city just waking up...
FROM THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS 714-840-1145
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